Exhortation to Kings (勸發諸王要偈)

O King of Radiant Merit and Virtue, I have no further wishes left to claim. The teachings spoken by all Buddhas— What is their essential, adorned aim? I now compose this song of sages, Which you, Great King, should kindly hear.

Just as with varied woods combined, A statue of the Tathāgata is made, The wise revere and bow to it, Honoring it for the Buddha's sake. So I, with unpolished speech, Proclaim the treasury of truth. The wise should trust and take delight, And listen to what I relate.

Though you, O King, have often heard The Buddha's Brahma-voice proclaim, Supreme insight comes from much learning— Repeated hearing deepens faith. As sunlight falls on pure white cloth, Does it not enhance its brightness?

The Three Jewels, giving, precepts, heavens— The foremost speak of six recollections. Follow all virtues accordingly, And observe them truly and well. In body, speech, and mind, always practice The tenfold path of pure deeds. Shun wine, avoid intoxication, Turn from wrong views, cultivate right livelihood.

Know wealth is shared by fivefold claimants, Impermanent and never secure. Give gifts to those of virtue, To the poor, the needy, and your kin. What follows you through every birth Is giving—the supreme of all. It never ceases, never perishes, Nor departs, nor seeks reward.

Such pure precepts as these You should accept and firmly keep. For they are fertile fields indeed, That grow the harvest of all merit. Giving, morality, patience, effort, Meditation, and measureless wisdom— These are the pāramitās; The wise should train in them. They cross the ocean of triple existence And attain the state of the Muni Sage.

If one honors father and mother, With wholehearted reverence and care, This is called the gate of propriety— A pure and heavenly noble lineage. Fame spreads far and wide; At death, one rises to celestial realms.

Refraining from killing, stealing, lust, and lies, From liquor and the three branches too, One perfects the eightfold observance, Following the Buddhas' own example. At death, one ascends to six heavens, Where all desires find their fulfilment.

Stinginess, deceit, illusion, pride, Sloth, greed, anger, ignorance— High birth, good looks, Youth, learning, pleasure— All such delusions Should be seen as enemies.

If one cultivates diligence, That is the path of deathlessness. Negligence is the road to death— So the World-Honored One has said. For the growth of wholesome qualities, One should cultivate diligence.

If one has done evil before, But later becomes vigilant, That person lights up the world— As clouds disperse, the moon shines clear.

Patience has no equal, Not following the angry mind. The Buddha taught it leads afar— One attains the path of no return. Some anger is like lines on water, Some like marks on earth or stone. For transcending defilements, The first person is superior; Reforming evil, cultivating loving patience— The third is held as highest.

The Supreme One has taught that speech among beings can be of three kinds—good or bad.

The first is speech that draws people in—sweet words like honey or candy.

The second is truthful speech—like a beautiful flower in full bloom.

The third is dishonest speech—coarse and shallow, like filth or dung.

A wise person should distinguish among these, letting go of the last and cultivating the first two.

Some go from light to light, reaching the end in brightness; Some go from darkness to darkness, ending in gloom; Some move from darkness into light; Others fall from light into shadow. The wise should truly understand this—abandoning the lower three paths, they rise toward the first light.

Some people appear mature but are inwardly raw; Others seem immature yet are inwardly ripe; Some are both—born and ripe in different ways. The discerning one clearly tells these apart.

Do not gaze at another's spouse with desire. If you must look, see them as your mother or daughter. Even so, if delusion still stirs within, cultivate the contemplation of impurity.

The mind is quick to race and wander—one must diligently guard and hold it steady, Like a person protecting their most precious treasure, their beloved child, or their very life.

See the pleasures of the five senses as venomous snakes— As objects of hatred, as blades and fire. Skillfully cultivate a mind of renunciation.

Sensory pleasures bring no true good—they are like the bimba fruit, Beautiful on the outside, deceptive and beguiling, binding people to the cycle of birth and death. The wise should observe this, let it go, and never be tainted by it.

The senses are restless and impulsive, scattering toward the six objects of the world. If one can tame and master them well, that person is truly mighty and brave.

This body is a walking latrine—nine openings constantly leaking filth, Filled with holes and never satisfied, a thin skin hiding impurity within. Fools are deceived by it, but the wise grow weary and turn away.

Just like a person with a skin ailment Scratches near fire to ease the pain, The relief is brief, the suffering grows, Desire is exactly the same.

Those who truly understand desire's fault Can step away from all distress. To see the ultimate truth, The Buddha taught contemplation of dependent origination. This is what you should diligently practice, Nothing surpasses it, no path greater.

A noble family, a handsome form, Learning and knowledge are one's adornment— But without discipline and wisdom, These are not truly excellent. Possessing both virtues, Even lacking a third, one is still extraordinary.

Gain and loss, fame and disgrace, Praise and blame, pleasure and pain— Unmoved by these eight worldly winds, Such a one is a noble king.

Do not, for the sake of gods, Ascetics, brahmins, Relatives, or guests, Take life or commit evil deeds. At death, you enter hell alone; No one else can bear that for you.

If someone does evil, They may not suffer immediately, But at death they reap its fruit— Too late for regret then.

Faith, virtue, generosity, learning, Wisdom, and a sense of shame— The Buddha said these are not shared wealth; All other riches are common to all.

Gambling, large gatherings, Laziness, keeping bad company, Drinking, indulgence, and reckless wandering, Night roaming without shame— These six tarnish one's name; The wise should stay far away.

Contentment is the greatest wealth, As the World-Honored One has declared. If one can cultivate contentment, Though poor and lowly, they are truly rich.

Just as a many-headed dragon Suffers more for its many heads, So too does deep resentment bind— Such a wife is called a foe.

Arrogant and disobedient, She is named a disrespectful wife. Spending her husband’s wealth freely, She is called a thieving wife. Beware, noble husbands, Keep far from these three kinds of wives.

Obedient as a sister, Loving as a good friend, Comforting as a mother, Attentive as a servant— These four virtuous wives Are true companions to their husbands.

Food and drink are medicine— Take them without greed, anger, or delusion, Only to sustain the body, Not for indulgence or vanity.

By day, diligently pursue your work; In the first and last watches of the night, likewise. In the middle watch, maintain mindfulness— Do not let dreams pass idly by.

Cultivate loving-kindness, compassion, Sympathetic joy, and equanimity— Practice them day and night. Even without attaining transcendence, The merit surpasses that of the Brahma heavens.

Renouncing desire, one finds joy; Through pleasure and pain, cultivate the four dhyānas. Brahma's light, purity, and fruition— Enjoy these celestial blisses.

If one commits but small wrongs Yet cultivates immeasurable good, It is like casting a pinch of salt Into the great Ganges River.

If one commits many wrongs Yet cultivates but little purity, It is like placing much poison Into a small vessel of food.

The five aggregates, like dark thieves, Rob people of their precious goodness. Faith and the five faculties, as mighty warriors, Are able to guard them well.

Birth, aging, sickness, and death— The pain of parting from what we love. Sinking without deliverance, This comes from our own deeds.

Seeking rebirth in heaven or liberation, One must diligently cultivate right view. Wrong view, even with good deeds, Brings only suffering as its fruit.

Impermanence, suffering, and impurity— These should be contemplated well. Without proper reflection, Four distortions blind the eye of wisdom.

A handsome form is not self, Nor is my self its master. The other four aggregates are likewise— Merely empty, suffering piles.

Not without cause, not at random, Not arising from inherent nature, Not created by a supreme lord— They arise from ignorance, craving, and deeds.

Views of self, attachment to rites, and doubt— These three obstruct liberation. Noble wisdom opens the gate of freedom— By one's own effort, not depending on others.

Pure ethics, learning concentration, Diligently cultivating the four dhyānas— Higher ethics, mind, and wisdom— Always strive to cultivate these.

All precepts, wisdom, and meditation Are contained within the three trainings. Mindfulness of the body, with great power— The Buddha declared the single path.

Always keep the mind anchored in mindfulness, Skillfully guarding it with care. If mindfulness is forgotten, Then all wholesome qualities are lost.

Body and life are extremely fragile— Like bubbles blown by wind, Like dreams that cannot be relied upon. An exhaled breath may never return— In an instant, all becomes fine dust. Know that nothing here is firm.

The earth, Mount Sumeru, and the seas— All will be consumed by fire in seven days, Leaving not even ashes behind. How much less this frail, brittle body?

Impermanence cannot be relied upon, Nor is it a sheltering protection. This body cannot be trusted— How can one not grow weary of it?

Like a blind sea turtle That chances upon a floating log with a hole— To regain a human birth Is even rarer than that.

Why then, in this human realm, Not cultivate the supreme fruits of merit? To fill a precious vessel with filth— Such a person is truly foolish.

Having obtained the precious human life, Yet using it for evil deeds— Know that such a person Is even more foolish than that.

Born in a land with the noble path, Encountering virtuous teachers, With right view established in the heart— Such is the merit of past lives.

Endowed with the four precious wheels, One can escape the path of birth and death. Drawing near to virtuous teachers, Fully cultivating the pure life— The Buddha said such a person Always finds peace in the heart.

Wrong views lead to the three lower realms— Where the sound of Dharma is never heard. In borderlands, in darkness, Deaf, mute, or in long-lived heavens.

You, O King, have escaped the eight hindrances, And obtained this unobstructed human form. You should cultivate wholesome deeds And skillfully seek nirvāṇa.

In the long night of birth and death, There are countless kinds of suffering. Turning endlessly as six kinds of kin— High and low, with no fixed order.

Through endless eons of birth and death, There has never been a being Who was not once your child. The mother's milk you have drunk Would fill the four great seas— And ordinary beings, still being reborn, Drink even more than that.

From the very beginning, The bones each person has piled up Would tower as high as Mount Sumeru. The heavens and human realms traversed Number like the dust of the great earth.

First one is a wheel-turning king, Then later a humble servant. Sometimes rising as Indra, Worshipped by all the gods— Then descending into filth and dirt, Going back and forth countless times.

Sometimes born in heaven, Enjoying celestial maidens' delights— Eyes dazzled by myriad beauties, Ears filled with ten thousand sounds, Touch all soft and delicate— Joy beyond description.

Then falling into hell, Enduring every kind of torment. If born among sword-leaf trees, Bodies and heads are sliced by blades. Or roaming atop Mount Sumeru, Rising and falling as thoughts dictate.

With celestial maidens together, Bathing in Mandākinī pools, Adorned with jeweled flowers, Cool and refreshing, utterly blissful— Then entering boiling ash rivers, Boiled and stewed until completely mashed.

The six heavens delight in sensual pleasures; The Brahma realm enjoys freedom from desire. Then death brings one to Avīci hell, Suffering every kind of torment.

Sometimes one is the sun or moon, Lighting the four quarters with brilliance— Then born in pitch-black hell, Unable to see one's own form.

O King, you must light the lamp of wisdom— Do not follow the long darkness again.

In the eight great hells, The torments of burning, scorching, and mutilation— All kinds of agony, Boundless and beyond comparison.

If a person, following delusion, Commits all kinds of evil deeds— And upon hearing of these great sufferings Before even an exhaled breath returns— His heart does not tremble with fear, Then he is but a wooden or stone person.

Seeing with one's own eyes the fruits of retribution, Hearing the wise proclaim them, Opening the Buddha's scriptures, Reflecting rightly in the mind— One should be greatly terrified— How much more so when experiencing it oneself!

Among all sufferings, Avīci hell is the greatest. Among all joys, The end of craving is the highest bliss.

Three times by day, three times by night, Three hundred spears piercing the body— Compared to Avīci's suffering, It is not even a hundred-thousandth part.

Countless torments, Where death cannot be begged for. Suffering for hundreds of thousands of years, Until evil deeds are fully exhausted.

Impure, suffering retribution— Seeded by deeds of body and speech. Without planting, there is no harvest— O King, you should cut off suffering's root.

If one falls into the animal realm, There is the suffering of bondage and slaughter. Greed and harm madden the mind; Hatred binds them to devour each other.

Some are taken for their pearls and jewels, Their fur, tails, skin, flesh, and bones— Losing life and limb because of these, Flayed, dismembered, and cut apart.

Swift horses with great strength Suffer bit and harness, burden and ride. Wild and untamed, They are whipped and beaten into submission.

Hungry ghosts crave food and drink, But what they desire never comes. Tormented by hunger, thirst, cold, and heat— Through the long night, never resting.

Some have bodies like great mountains, But throats as narrow as needle points. Burning within from hunger and thirst, Before food, yet unable to eat. Some see filth, pus, and saliva, And rush toward them in droves— But when they arrive, it vanishes, Hope destroyed, adding to their misery.

Hunger and thirst sear their insides; Tumors and sores break out across their flesh. They scratch and claw at each other, Gnawing and sucking at pus and blood.

Emaciated, skin stretched over bones, Naked, with long matted hair, Bodies tall like withered trees— Fierce flames burst from their mouths, Turning back to burn their own bodies— Like blazing palm trees consumed.

In summer nights, they long for cool air, Yet moonlight only makes the heat more severe. In winter, they think of daytime warmth, But when the sun rises, it feels colder than ice. Fruits wither as they approach the trees, Rivers dry up when they draw near to drink. For fifteen thousand years, their karma sustains their lives, Enduring immeasurable suffering for so long, All because of past offenses—their karmic ties. Tormented by countless afflictions, Pure suffering with no respite at all. Greed and clinging, deep miserliness— These, the Buddha taught, are the causes of hungry ghosts.

Though celestial joy is blissful, When merit ends, great suffering follows. This is not the fruit of sages, Nor what the wise rely upon. The body loses its radiance, One no longer delights in one's seat, The flower crown suddenly wilts, Dust and grime cling to the body, Sweat trickles from the armpits— Know that death's time has come. When good fortune's pure karma is spent, One falls again into the three lower realms.

Or one is born as an asura, Where greed and envy bring constant distress. Though possessing intelligence and wit, Such beings never see the truth. In the six realms of birth and death, Beings revolve endlessly without rest. The highest teaching is not to grasp at rebirth, For what is born is a vessel of suffering. Even if flames blazed upon one's head, One should remain mindful and not give in. Do not create karma leading to future existence— Focus the mind and diligently cultivate.

Precepts, meditative absorption, and wisdom, Calm and tranquil, unwavering and still— Seek the path of nirvana, And ultimately transcend birth and death. Mindfulness, investigation, and effort, Joy, ease, meditative concentration, and equanimity— These seven factors of awakening Comprise the pure path of nectar.

Without wisdom, there is no meditation; Without meditation, there is no wisdom. When both are fully developed, One can cross the stream of birth and death. The boundless great ocean of suffering Becomes like a footprint's puddle of water.

The fourteen unanswerable questions, The Buddha said, should not be pondered— They are neither the path of safety Nor the place of tranquility.

Ignorance conditions volitional formations, Which in turn give rise to consciousness. Name-and-form arises from consciousness, And the six sense bases arise from name-and-form. The six sense bases give rise to six contacts, From contacts arise the feelings. Feelings are the cause of craving, And from craving arise the four kinds of clinging. Clinging gives rise to the three realms of existence, And from existence comes future rebirth. From birth comes aging and death, With sorrow, lamentation, and all forms of suffering— An immeasurable mass of woes. When birth ceases, all of it ceases.

This is what the Supreme One revealed— The profound teaching of dependent origination. One who contemplates it rightly Sees the supreme truth. Such true vision Is itself seeing the Buddha.

Right view, right intention, Right speech, right action, right livelihood, Right mindfulness, right effort, And right meditative concentration— These eightfold noble path, Leading to peace, should be cultivated.

Birth itself is the true suffering, Craving and attachment are its origin. The cessation of suffering is liberation, And the path to that state is the eightfold way. To perceive that truth, Always diligently cultivate right wisdom. Even amid the pleasures of the five senses, The wise can find their way out.

Those who realize true dharma All begin as ordinary people— They do not fall from the sky, Nor do they spring from the earth.

The wise and fearless king Grasps the essentials without vexation. He should build the bridge of true dharma To cross the abyss of birth and death.

These profound teachings above— Even renunciants struggle to master them. How much more a worldly ruler Could fully practice them? Yet one should cultivate step by step, And never let a day pass idly by.

When all people cultivate goodness, Always rejoice in their efforts. Practicing the three kinds of wholesome deeds oneself, And sincerely dedicating them to Buddhahood— In future lives, one will receive These immeasurable blessings. One will always be born among gods and humans, Becoming a sovereign lord. Together with great bodhisattvas, One will play with miraculous powers, Skillfully guiding sentient beings, And purifying the Buddha-lands.

Giving, precepts, and wisdom are the seeds; One moves between human and heavenly realms. A stainless and pure reputation Spreads across the lands of the ten directions.

As a guide for the world, One may ascend as a heavenly king, Causing beings to abandon pleasures of the senses And to stay far from heedlessness.

Beings are lost, missing the true crossing, Drifting and wandering with the four currents, In immeasurable suffering of birth and death— They are ferried to the far shore. Through this, one attains Buddhahood, And ultimately great nirvana.