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.