thag.10.1 Theragatha

Kāḷudāyī

“The trees are now crimson, venerable sir,
they’ve shed their foliage, and are ready to fruit.
They’re splendid, as if aflame;
great hero, this season is full of flavor.
The blossoming trees are delightful,
wafting their scent all around, in all directions.
They’ve shed their leaves and wish to fruit,
hero, it is time to depart from here.
It is neither too hot nor too cold,
venerable sir, it’s a pleasant season for traveling.
Let the Sākiyas and Koḷiyas see you,
heading west across the Rohiṇī river.
In hope, the field is plowed;
the seed is sown in hope;
in hope, merchants travel the seas,
carrying rich cargoes.
The hope that I stand for:
may it succeed!
Again and again, they sow the seed;
again and again, the lord god sends rain;
again and again, farmers plow the field;
again and again, grain is produced for the nation.
Again and again, the beggars wander,
again and again, the donors give.
Again and again, when the donors have given,
again and again, they take their place in heaven.
A hero of vast wisdom purifies seven generations
of the family in which they’re born.
Sakya, I believe you’re the king of kings,
since you fathered the one who is truly called a sage.
The father of the great hermit is named Suddhodana;
and the Buddha’s mother is named Māyā.
Having borne the Bodhisatta in her belly,
she rejoices in the heaven of the Thirty-Three.
When she died and passed away from here,
she was blessed with heavenly sensual pleasures;
enjoying the five kinds of sensual stimulation.
Gotamī is surrounded by those hosts of gods.”
“I’m the son of the Buddha, the incomparable Aṅgīrasa, the poised,
the bearer of the unbearable.
You, Sakya, are my father’s father;
Gotama, you are my grandfather in the Dhamma.”