佛所行讚厭患品第三
Chapter 3: Disgust with Worldly Existence
外有諸園林， 流泉清涼池，
眾雜華果樹， 行列垂玄蔭。
異類諸奇鳥， 奮飛戲其中，
水陸四種花， 炎色流妙香。
伎女因奏樂， 弦歌告太子，
太子聞音樂， 歎美彼園林。
內懷甚踊悅， 思樂出遊觀，
猶如繫狂象， 常慕閑曠野。
父王聞太子， 樂出彼園遊，
即勅諸群臣， 嚴飾備羽儀。
平治正王路， 并除諸醜穢，
老病形殘類， 羸劣貧窮苦，
無令少樂子， 見起厭惡心。
莊嚴悉備已， 啟請求拜辭，
王見太子至， 摩頭瞻顏色，
悲喜情交結， 口許而心留。
眾寶軒飾車， 結駟駿平流，
賢良善術藝， 年少美姿容，
妙淨鮮花服， 同車為執御。
街巷散眾華， 寶縵蔽路傍，
垣樹列道側， 寶器以莊嚴，
繒蓋諸幢幡， 繽紛隨風揚。
觀者挾長路， 側身目連光，
瞪矚而不瞬， 如並青蓮花。
臣民悉扈從， 如星隨宿王，
異口同聲歎， 稱慶世希有。
貴賤及貧富， 長幼及中年，
悉皆恭敬禮， 唯願令吉祥。
郭邑及田里， 聞太子當出，
尊卑不待辭， 寤寐不相告。
六畜不遑收， 錢財不及斂，
門戶不容閉， 奔馳走路傍。
樓閣堤塘樹， 窓牖衢巷間，
側身競容目， 瞪矚觀無厭。
高觀謂投地， 步者謂乘虛，
意專不自覺， 形神若雙飛。
虔虔恭形觀， 不生放逸心，
圓體𦟛支節， 色若蓮花敷，
今出處園林， 願成聖法仙。
太子見修塗， 莊嚴從人眾，
服乘鮮光澤， 欣然心歡悅。
國人瞻太子， 嚴儀勝羽從，
亦如諸天眾， 見天太子生。
時淨居天王， 忽然在道側，
變形衰老相， 勸生厭離心。
太子見老人， 驚怪問御者：
「此是何等人？ 頭白而背僂，
目冥身戰搖， 任杖而羸步。
為是身卒變， 為受性自爾？」
御者心躊躇， 不敢以實答，
淨居加神力， 令其表真言：
「色變氣虛微， 多憂少歡樂，
喜忘諸根羸， 是名衰老相。
此本為嬰兒， 長養於母乳，
及童子嬉遊， 端正恣五欲，
年逝形枯朽， 今為老所壞。」
太子長歎息， 而問御者言：
「但彼獨衰老， 吾等亦當然？」
御者又答言： 「尊亦有此分，
時移形自變， 必至無所疑，
少壯無不老， 舉世知而求。」
菩薩久修習， 清淨智慧業，
廣殖諸德本， 願果華於今。
聞說衰老苦， 戰慄身毛竪，
雷霆霹靂聲， 群獸怖奔走。
菩薩亦如是， 震怖長噓息，
繫心於老苦， 頷頭而瞪矚，
念此衰老苦， 世人何愛樂？
老相之所壞， 觸類無所擇，
雖有壯色力， 無一不遷變。
目前見證相， 如何不厭離？
菩薩謂御者， 宜速迴車還，
念念衰老至， 園林何足歡？
受命即風馳， 飛輪旋本宮。
心存朽暮境， 如歸空塜間，
觸事不留情， 所居無暫安。
王聞子不悅， 勸令重出遊，
即勅諸群臣， 莊嚴復勝前。
天復化病人， 守命在路傍，
身瘦而腹大， 呼吸長喘息，
手脚攣枯燥， 悲泣而呻吟。
太子問御者： 「此復何等人？」
對曰：「是病者， 四大俱錯亂，
羸劣無所堪， 轉側恃仰人。」
太子聞所說， 即生哀愍心，
問：「唯此人病， 餘亦當復爾？」
對曰：「此世間， 一切俱亦然，
有身必有患， 愚癡樂朝歡。」
太子聞其說， 即生大恐怖，
身心悉戰動， 譬如揚波月。
處斯大苦器， 云何能自安？
嗚呼世間人， 愚惑癡闇障，
病賊至無期， 而生喜樂心。
於是迴車還， 愁憂念病苦，
如人被打害， 捲身待杖至，
靜息於閑宮， 專求反世樂。
王復聞子還， 勅問何因緣？
對曰見病人， 王怖猶失身。
深責治路者， 心結口不言，
復增伎女眾， 音樂倍勝前。
以此悅視聽， 樂俗不厭家，
晝夜進聲色， 其心未始歡。
王自出遊歷， 更求勝妙園，
簡擇諸婇女， 美艷極姿顏。
諂𭶑能奉事， 容媚能惑人，
增修王御道， 防制諸不淨，
并勅善御者， 瞻察擇路行。
時彼淨居天， 復化為死人，
四人共持輿， 現於菩薩前，
餘人悉不覺， 菩薩御者見。
問：「此何等輿？ 幡花雜莊嚴，
從者悉憂慼， 散髮號哭隨。」
天神教御者， 對曰：「為死人。
諸根壞命斷， 心散念識離，
神逝形乾燥， 挺直如枯木。
親戚諸朋友， 恩愛素纏綿，
今悉不喜見， 遠棄空塜間。」
太子聞死聲， 悲痛心交結。
問：「唯此人死， 天下亦俱然？」
對曰：「普皆爾， 夫始必有終，
長幼及中年， 有身莫不壞。」
太子心驚怛， 身垂車軾前，
息殆絕而嘆， 世人一何誤？
公見身磨滅， 猶尚放逸生。
心非枯木石， 曾不慮無常？
即勅迴車還， 非復遊戲時，
命絕死無期， 如何縱心遊？
御者奉王勅， 畏怖不敢旋，
正御疾驅馳， 徑往至彼園。
林流滿清淨， 嘉木悉敷榮，
靈禽雜奇獸， 飛走欣和鳴，
光耀悅耳目， 猶天難陀園。
Outside were gardens and groves, With flowing springs and cool, clear pools. A multitude of mixed flowers and fruit trees, Stood in rows, casting deep shade.
Rare birds of various kinds Fluttered and played among them. Flowers from water and land in four kinds, Their radiant colors wafting exquisite fragrance.
Maidens, playing music, Sang with strings to inform the prince. Hearing the music, the prince Praised the beauty of those gardens.
His heart was filled with great joy, He longed to go out and wander for pleasure. Like a wild elephant tethered, He constantly yearned for the open wilderness.
His father the king, hearing the prince Desired to go out to those garden grounds, Immediately commanded his ministers To prepare and adorn the royal procession.
To level and smooth the king's highway, And remove all that was ugly and foul: The aged, the sick, the deformed, The weak, the poor, and the suffering.
"Let not my son of little joy See them and give rise to a heart of aversion." When the adornments were fully prepared, They requested leave and paid their respects.
The king saw the prince arrive, Touched his head and gazed upon his face. Sorrow and joy intertwined in his heart, His mouth gave consent, but his mind wished to keep him.
A carriage adorned with many jewels, Drawn by four fine, smooth-flowing steeds. Worthy, skilled, and good-natured youths, Handsome and young in appearance,
Wearing fresh, pure, flower-bright clothes, Rode together as his charioteers. Flowers were scattered in the streets and lanes, Precious canopies lined the roadsides.
Walls and trees flanked the path, Adorned with precious vessels. Silken canopies and banners of all kinds, Fluttered and danced in the wind.
Onlookers lined the long road, Turning their bodies, their eyes following the light. They stared without blinking, Like a row of blue lotus flowers.
Ministers and people all followed in attendance, Like stars following the constellation's lord. With different mouths but the same voice they sighed, Praising this rare sight in the world.
Noble and base, poor and rich, The old, the young, and those in middle years, All paid respectful homage, Wishing only for his auspiciousness.
In the city walls, villages, and fields, Hearing the prince was to go forth, High and low did not wait to be told, Awake or asleep, they did not need to inform each other.
Their livestock was left untended, Their wealth and goods left ungathered. Their doors and gates were left unbarred, As they ran to line the roadside.
From towers, pavilions, embankments, and trees, From windows, alleys, and lanes between, They strained to see, competing for a view, Staring, gazing, never tiring.
Those on high balconies seemed to throw themselves to the ground, Those on foot seemed to walk on air. Their minds focused, unaware of themselves, Their forms and spirits seemed to fly together.
Reverently, respectfully they gazed upon his form, Not giving rise to a careless mind. "His full body and well-proportioned limbs, His color like a lotus in bloom, Now he goes forth to the gardens and groves, May he accomplish the holy Dharma and become an immortal."
The prince saw the well-prepared road, The adorned and accompanying crowd, The fresh, gleaming clothes and carriage, And his heart was joyful and delighted.
The people gazed upon the prince, His majestic bearing surpassing his feathered entourage. It was just like the host of gods Seeing the birth of a heavenly prince.
Then the Heaven-King of the Pure Abode Suddenly appeared by the roadside. He transformed into an aged, decaying form, To urge the birth of a heart of renunciation.
The prince saw the old man, Startled, he asked his charioteer: "What manner of man is this? White-haired and bent-backed, Eyes dim, body trembling and shaking, Leaning on a staff, taking feeble steps. Is this a sudden change of body, Or is this his inherent nature?"
The charioteer's heart hesitated, He dared not answer with the truth. The Pure Abode god added his divine power, Causing him to speak the true words:
"His color changed, his breath faint and weak, Full of sorrow, with little joy. Forgetful, his faculties weakened— This is called the mark of old age. He was once an infant, Nourished at his mother's breast, Then a playful youth, Handsome, indulging in the five desires. The years passed, his form withered and decayed, Now he is broken by age."
The prince heaved a long sigh, And asked the charioteer: "Is he alone in growing old, Or shall we be so as well?"
The charioteer answered again: "Your Highness, you too have this fate. Time passes, the form naturally changes, It will surely come, without a doubt. None who are young and strong avoid old age, The whole world knows this, yet they seek."
The Bodhisattva had long cultivated, The pure karma of wisdom. He had widely planted the roots of virtue, His vowed fruit now flowering.
Hearing of the suffering of old age, He shuddered, the hairs on his body stood on end. Like the sound of a thunderclap Frightening herds of beasts to flee, So too was the Bodhisattva, Trembling in fear, heaving a long sigh. His mind fastened on the suffering of old age, He bowed his head and stared intently, Thinking: "This suffering of old age— Why do people in the world delight in it? Ruined by the marks of age, It touches all kinds, without discrimination. Though one may have the strength and beauty of youth, Not one escapes this change. Seeing this proof before my eyes, How can I not feel renunciation?"
The Bodhisattva said to the charioteer, "We should quickly turn the carriage back. With the thought of old age ever approaching, What joy is there in gardens and groves?" Receiving the command, they sped like the wind, The flying wheels returning to the palace.
His mind dwelling on the scene of decay, As if returning to an empty tomb, No event could hold his affection, No dwelling place gave him temporary peace.
The king heard his son was displeased, Urged him to go out wandering again. He commanded his ministers To adorn things even more splendidly than before.
The god again transformed into a sick man, Lingering by the roadside. Body emaciated, belly swollen, Breathing with long, labored gasps. Hands and feet cramped, dry and withered, Weeping and moaning in sorrow.
The prince asked his charioteer: "What manner of person is this again?" He replied: "This is a sick person, His four elements all disordered. Weak and feeble, incapable, He turns and leans on others for support."
Hearing this explanation, The prince immediately gave rise to a heart of compassion. He asked: "Is this person alone sick, Or shall others be so as well?" He replied: "In this world, All are thus. Having a body, one must have affliction, Yet the foolish and deluded delight in morning's joy."
Hearing his words, The prince gave rise to great terror. His body and mind trembled and shook, Like the moon reflected on rippling waves. "Dwelling in this vessel of great suffering, How can one find peace for oneself? Alas, people of the world! Obstructed by folly, delusion, and darkness, The thief of illness comes without warning, Yet they give rise to hearts of joy and pleasure."
Then he turned the carriage back, Sorrowful, brooding on the suffering of sickness. Like a man who has been struck, Curling his body, awaiting the blow, He rested quietly in his secluded palace, Single-mindedly seeking the happiness beyond the world.
The king again heard his son had returned, Commanded to ask the reason. They replied he had seen a sick man, The king was as terrified as if he had lost his own body. Deeply blaming those who prepared the road, His heart knotted, his mouth silent. He increased again the host of maidens, The music even more splendid than before.
With these to please his sight and hearing, To make him delight in the worldly, not weary of home, Day and night they offered sounds and sights, Yet his heart found no joy in them.
The king himself went out traveling, Seeking even more supremely wonderful gardens. He selected various court maidens, Of surpassing beauty and exquisite appearance, Flattering and skilled in service, Their charms able to bewitch men. He improved the king's royal road, Guarding against all that was impure, And commanded the skilled charioteer To observe and choose the path to travel.
Then that Heaven of the Pure Abode Again transformed into a dead man. Four men carrying a bier Appeared before the Bodhisattva. None of the others perceived it, Only the Bodhisattva and his charioteer saw.
He asked: "What manner of bier is this? With banners, flowers, and mixed adornments, The followers all sorrowful and distressed, With hair disheveled, weeping and wailing as they follow."
A heavenly god instructed the charioteer, Who replied: "It is for a dead man. His faculties ruined, his life cut off, His mind scattered, thought and consciousness departed. His spirit gone, his form dried up, Stiff and straight like a withered tree. Relatives, friends, and companions, Bound by love and affection, Now find no joy in seeing him, But cast him far away in an empty tomb."
Hearing the word 'death', the prince Was stricken with grief, his heart entangled. He asked: "Is this person alone dead, Or is all the world thus as well?" He replied: "All are thus, universally. What has a beginning must have an end. Old and young, and those in middle years, None with a body avoid this ruin."
The prince's heart was shocked and pained, His body slumped against the chariot's front rail. His breath almost ceased as he sighed: "How mistaken are the people of the world! Openly seeing the body's destruction, They still give rise to carelessness. Is the heart not like dried wood or stone, That it never considers impermanence?"
He immediately commanded to turn the carriage back, "This is no time for amusement. Death comes without warning, life is cut off, How can one indulge the mind in wandering?" The charioteer, having received the king's command, Was afraid and dared not turn back. He properly drove, speeding swiftly, Straight on to that garden.
The groves and streams were full of purity, Fine trees all in glorious bloom. Divine birds mingled with rare beasts, Flying, running, joyfully singing in harmony. The light and splendor pleased eye and ear, Like the heavenly Nandana garden.