Khuddaka Nikaya - Theragatha 9

Khuddaka Nikaya - Theragatha 9

Thag 9
Bhuta Thera
No Greater Contentment
Translated from the Pali by
Andrew OlendzkiPTS: vv. 522-526



Source: Transcribed from a file provided by the translator.



Copyright © 2005 Andrew Olendzki.
Access to Insight edition © 2005
For free distribution. This work may be republished, reformatted,
reprinted, and redistributed in any medium. It is the author's wish,
however, that any such republication and redistribution be made available
to the public on a free and unrestricted basis and that translations and
other derivative works be clearly marked as such.



When the thundering storm cloud roars out in the mist,
And torrents of rain fill the paths of the birds,
Nestled in a mountain cave, the monk meditates.
— No greater contentment than this can be found.

When along the rivers the tumbling flowers bloom
In winding wreaths adorned with verdant color,
Seated on the bank, glad-minded, he meditates.
— No greater contentment than this can be found.

When in the depths of night, in a lonely forest,
The rain-deva drizzles and the fanged beasts cry,
Nestled in a mountain cave, the monk meditates.
— No greater contentment than this can be found.

When restraining himself and his discursive thoughts,
(Dwelling in a hollow in the mountains' midst),
Devoid of fear and barrenness, he meditates.
— No greater contentment than this can be found.

When he is happy — expunged of stain, waste and grief,
Unobstructed, unencumbered, unassailed —
Having ended all defilements, he meditates.
— No greater contentment than this can be found.



Translator's note
Three entirely different moods are portrayed so sensitively in the first three
stanzas of this poem by the monk Bhuta — the first wild and clamorous, the
second bright and benevolent, the third dark and mysterious. Constant among
these dramatic changes of nature is the meditating monk, content in any setting.

Mindful awareness allows all things to be just what they are, undisturbed by the
reconstructions of the petty ego. Like the tiny figure in a Chinese landscape
painting, the monk blends into phenomena because of his transparency of self.
The original tristubh meter is an alteration of 12 and 13 syllables per line,
reproduced here in a 12 and 11 syllable translation that seems to work better in
English. The Pali images are so richly textured in this poem, one could easily
use twice as many English words and still not capture the nuances.
The second line alone, for example, evokes the image of twisted streams of water
cascading down the steep streambeds of a mountain gorge, and then transfers the
image to the heavens, where the plunging rivulets now course down the invisible
tracks left everywhere in the sky by the passage of birds. That's a lot to fit
into eleven syllables!