Without sign,
	unknown
— the life here of mortals — 
	difficult,
	short,
	tied up with pain.
For there's no way
by which those who are born
	will not die.
Beings are subject
	to death
even when they attain
	old age.

Like ripe fruits
whose downfall, whose danger
		is falling,
so for mortals, once born,
the constant danger
		is death.

As a potter's clay vessels
	large & small
	fired & unfired
all end up broken,
	so too life
	heads to death.
Young & old
wise & foolish
rich & poor:
			all
	come under the sway of death,
			all
	have death as their end.

For those overcome by death,
	gone to the other world,
	father cannot shelter son,
	nor relatives a relative.
See: even while relatives are looking on,
		wailing heavily,
mortals are
one
	by
		one
led away
		like cows to the slaughter.

In this way is the world afflicted
	with aging & death,
and so the enlightened don't grieve,
	knowing the way of the world.

"You don't know the path
of his coming or going:
seeing neither end,
you lament in vain."

If, by lamenting,	
	— confused,
	harming yourself — 
any use could be gained
the prudent would do it as well.
But not by weeping & grief
do you gain peace of awareness.
		Pain
arises all the more. Your body
		is harmed.
You grow thin,
	pale,
		harming yourself
		by yourself.
Not in that way
are the dead protected.
Lamentation's in vain.

Not abandoning grief, a person
suffers all the more pain.
Bewailing one whose time is done,
you fall under the sway of grief.

Look at others
going along,
	people arriving
in line with their actions:
	falling under the sway of death,
	beings simply
	shivering here.

	For however they imagine it,
	it always turns out
	other than that.
That's the type of (their) separation.
		See the way of the world.

Even if a person lives a century	
		— or more — 
he's parted
from his community of relatives,
he abandons his life
right here.

So, having heard the arahant,
subduing lamentation,
seeing the dead one whose time is done,
	[think,] "I can't fetch him back." 
Just as one would put out
	a burning refuge
	with water,
so does the enlightened one — 
	discerning,
	skillful,
	& wise — 
blow away any arisen grief,
like the wind, a bit of cotton fluff.

Seeking your own happiness,
you should pull out your own arrow:
	your own		lamentation,
			longing,
			& sorrow. 
With arrow pulled out,
		independent,
attaining peace of awareness,
all grief transcended,
	griefless you are
		unbound.