Kunjarakarna Dharmakathana

Mpu Dusun

Translated by Thothica

Kuñjarakarṇa Dharmakathana

avighnam astu.

Canto 1. (Jagaddhita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ =)

The steadfast one, seeking battle on the field of austerities and vows, warring against the six heroic enemies within, His battle-array is the quality of truth in meditation; his chariot, the practice of compassion and more. The sacred hand-gestures are his banner, the lion's roar his chanted spell, the supreme bow his inconceivable contemplation; The highest arrow is enlightenment-wisdom, annihilating the foe, bearing the fruit of dharma-śūnyatā.
Such a one is the visible form of the Lord Śākyamuni, victor over Māra. He stands as a blessing for those who would compose poetry, who bow in devotion, heads bowed to the dust of his feet. My praise is like a consecrated image, set forth as a diadem of rule, seeded with syllables. May my spirit never be parted from his feet in all my lives to come.
And by venerating the feet of the Lord Sugata, chosen as my tutelary deity, May I be without obstacle in recounting the tale of his sermon on the dharma. As a purifying draught, may it illuminate his praise, which sanctifies the world, For it is a summons, a call to the life of a poet who grasps at beauty.
Now, my address to you, accomplished poets, you who are scholars in beauty: Do not say I am presumptuous, rashly composing this allegorical tale. It is not from expertise, but only from following the way of other poets, merely for beauty's sake. Is it not wholly from lack of knowledge? For I am no poet, but a would-be poet who does not yet know the rules.
The reason is that I am foolish, composing verse in clumsy imitation of the famed authors. See, it is like a water-lily, the same as a lotus, yet how can it be a true lotus flower? Thus is my offering, not equal to that of other poets, all masters of beauty. It is merely a story retold, borrowed from the lords of poetry.
There was one named Kuñjarakarṇa; this tale shall be its foundation. But it is pointless for one like me to adorn it, as fruitless as powdering one's face with charcoal. To sprinkle it, hoping to beautify the story, would only increase the scorn of others. Clearly it will provoke laughter, yet may it be forgiven by the great.
The glorious Vairocana is the beginning of the story, at the time he was attended by the host of gods. There in the immaculate Monastery of Enlightenment, he was thus giving a sermon on the Law. Akṣobhya and the other Bodhisattvas of his retinue approached him in devout worship, And all the Bajrapāṇis, the lords of gods, Yama, Varuṇa, and Dhanādhipa.

Canto 2. (not known from elsewhere: ~ - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - - | ~ ~ =)

The host of attendant deities received their turn; The essence of the supreme Teaching was fully received. The ultimate meaning was spoken and understood, The instruction of the glorious, all-knowing, compassionate one.
After the attendant deities had first paid homage, The gods approached in turn to make their offerings. Hearing the sublime Law was like a rain of nectar; The minds of the assembled gods were like grass, surely drenched.
When all had been instructed in the Law by the Lord Jina, they were content and joyful to hear it. All venerated the glorious Sugata with reverence. Let us pass over the departure of the entire host of gods.

Canto 3. (Navaharṣa: ~ ~ - | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ ~ | - ~ ~ | =)

Now the story of Kuñjarakarṇa, who performed austerities on the excellent Mount Meru. He made it the foremost mountain of asceticism, never forgetting to meditate on the Sugata. His means was his yoga, the fruit of his power was his goal, Yet his rākṣasa form was the impurity that was the reason for his austerities.
There on the mountain's slope was a cave-hermitage, facing east. It gazed upon the ocean, like an ascetic's grove in the sky. Its flowers bloomed in profusion, its many fruits were ripe; Their season was unbroken, succeeding one another as if timeless.
On the very edge of the beautiful cliffs, it overlooked the ravines. Water cascaded down, rushing, roaring, thundering. Its fly-whisks of spray seemed to cheer, rejoicing in the strong wind. The cātaka birds cried out, and peacocks wheeled in the sky.
Great trees, the pride of the mountain forest, teja trees, all leaned together, shining. Even the trees covered in staghorn ferns seemed adorned, their trunks a wonder. Creepers like necklaces, lovely; others like bracelets, beautiful and yellow. There was a kavuntat tree approaching the valik-aḍəp below.

Canto 4. (Śikhariṇī: ~ - - | - - - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ =)

The mountain's form was like a jeweled maiden, captivating, enchanting in her beauty. Her skirt was the profusion of trees, fragrant with sweet-smelling flowers. A thin white mist was her garment, a single translucent scarf. Her necklace was the dew, her earrings the glittering rays of the sun.
The charm of the flowers was her cosmetic, adding to her lovely, beautiful appearance. The vines, clinging as if sitting cross-legged, seemed to be playfully leaning in delight. Her face was a graceful maiden, gazing at her reflection in the waters of the lake. The world swooned, dizzy, because the dense leaves were stirred by the breeze.
It was as if the sky and the mountain were making love. The low, soft thunder was its coaxing murmur, its voice was heard. The lightning, beautiful and charming, was its glance, seeking to entice. Its rainbow, arching low, embraced and kissed the water.
The depths of the mountain river's heart could just be seen. The faint reflection of clouds was like the eyebrows of a girl just come of age. The ivory coconuts were her hidden breasts, veiled by the water and fronds. When the clouds departed, the trees seemed disheveled, left behind.
The trees were wilted and weary, exhausted by the sun's sharp heat. The dew was their sweat, the bees were their weeping, the peacocks their faintness. The flowing sap of the siñjang tree was like blood, its red flowers like divine offerings. Its shoots drooped low; what was it they gazed upon?

Canto 5. (Turidagati: ~ ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | =)

Truly it was a special king of mountains, a refuge for all that seeks beauty. The posture of the trees was one of tranquility, attending court, steadfast, never ill-behaved. Their tendrils were like hands in homage, naturally approaching to kiss the earth. Together they offered flowers: the fragrant dragon-flower, the aśoka, and the champaca.
The tirisan trees bore ivory-colored fruit, their bare shoots holding up the sky. A cloud on the ridge-top, arching over, was like a white parasol. Its sound was like a conch shell, vying with the melody of the birds. Like holy water from a fire-rite were the drops in the ravine, where shrimp-blossoms fell.
The path to the forest hermitage was terraced, walled, and paved with stones. Here and there were rows of fragrant flowers, just in fruit, spreading beauty. Handvaṅ and asla trees, gold-trees, puring trees, sparkled white. Parajita, śrīdanta, jagaśatru, were matched by the yellow flower.
No less were the flowers of the asana tree, shining yellow, a wonder of yellow. The blossoming flowers, ripe and all yellow, were like a yellow parasol. Even its birds were yellow, the oriole with its mate, a flash of yellow. Truly, the way of things on the mountain is colored by longing, rewarded with yellow.
A resting place, a pavilion for three, faint as if in a painting. Its offerings were the ceremonial trees, all fruits, lovely flowers, and areca nuts. The tips of the wild banana leaves seemed to long for a visitor's arrival. Water not far below, constantly like a string of pearls, flowed from the mountain heights.
Deer, male and female together, seemed to hesitate on their way to the mountain. The sweet, lingering glance of their eyes was like an invitation to rest for a lover. The entwined gaḍung vines embraced, their tendrils pointing to a secluded bower. The white center-shoot of the lirang palm seemed to unfold, weeping with passionate love.
For this was said to be Mount Mandara, famed as the first of mountains. It was the constant assembly hall of the gods at play, attended by apsaras and apsarīs. That is why the mountain was lovely, its composition a marvel, incomparable in beauty. Fresh, pure water was on its peak, a lake, a supreme holy bathing place.
Moreover, the peaks of Mount Semeru were filled with ascetic sages along the ridges. In every hamlet could be seen the roofs of their huts, of bamboo of many kinds. Some awaited their desire, their hearts pounding, gazing at the highest beauty. Some sent up smoke, perhaps from their ascetic practice, or perhaps from boiling vegetables.
But all that beauty was surpassed by the hermitage, the ascetic dwelling of the great asura. A cave of white rock, like the mouth of Mount Semeru, awesome. It was level, spacious, clean, and sparkling like crystal, bright even at night. Water descended from above, passing over the cave and falling into the ravine.
The great ascetic, the asura Kuñjara, was in the cave, practicing the yoga of concentration. Seated in a firm posture, he joined his hands in the gesture of Amitābha. His body was held straight, unmoving, his gaze fixed on the tip of his nose. The non-existent realm of being was perceived, pure, returning to the nature of Emptiness.
His state was that of a rākṣasa, but his appearance was truly that of a monk. He wore a rosary as a necklace and a guduha bracelet, his loincloth barely covering him. The supreme essence was hidden, a model to be held fast in the heart. Like a crown of matted hair was the beautiful conduct of one who practices non-possession.
When his meditation was over, his mind at peace, he went forth from the cave. His gaze wandered over the beautiful ocean, from the shore to the faint horizon. At last it appeared to merge with the sky, vanishing into blackness. He pondered it, like the end of life, which is eternal and without fruit.
For a moment he was silent, seeming perplexed, following his restless thoughts. He contemplated what was hidden in his heart, discerning the highest path. His purpose was soon to find power and, moreover, to cease being a rākṣasa. Therefore he resolved to go and pay homage at the feet of the Lord Gautama.

Canto 6. (Pṛthvītala: ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - - | ~ =)

The one of fierce austerities departed swiftly, taking the path of the sky, fearless. He was like the king of birds, soaring over the mountain peaks. His nature was that of a powerful yakṣa, accompanied by wondrous might. A rushing blast of wind came, violently shaking the trees on the mountain.
As his flight passed southward, let us speak of all that was below. Regions, one after another, section by section of beauty. Mountains whose forests were dense with groves, following the slopes. Areca, tirisan, and aryan trees, dense and ordered, heavy with fruit.
A smooth ridge, newly cleared, immeasurable to the ravines. It had been touched by forest fire, its scars were burnt. Up to the very peak, lice-like, the gathered charcoal was thick. The pale white rocks were cracked, etched with map-like lines.
A hollow mountain was seen below, its caves like great halls. Its cliffs jutted out like ships, as if hollowed out and vaulted. The water-spirits who looked on all brought offerings, bowing down as they fell. The tigers cried out, startled and afraid, their low growls echoing in the hollows.
White were the waters of the floodplains, stretching out from many mountains. Like a path of pure crystal, the water flowed straight on. It reached the Vindhya mountains, then all passed eastward, It crashed into the cave of the ocean, thundering and roaring.
A dark cloud, veiled in drizzle, lightning flashing, brilliantly shining. So shone the splendor of Kuñjara, traveler of the sky. All who looked up were dazzled, shielding their eyes as they gazed at the heavens. "What wonder is this?" said the people, for there was nothing like it.
He saw nearby Mount Semeru, on the southern slope. It seemed to welcome him with respect, its forests bidding him to come and rest. The sound of the birds, chattering, was like a greeting. Its monkeys leaped about, eager to offer refreshments, as if in jest.
In the distance appeared a newly-made, beautiful monastery. Its gateway was of gold and jewels, its pinnacles of royal white gems. The sun and moon were of no account, put to shame, by its surpassing radiance which outshone the pure, sparkling ramparts.
Swiftly he reached the monastery, the excellent, immaculate Mind of Enlightenment. At once he approached, with hands in homage, the feet of the Lord Jina. He knew the supreme means of attracting the gods: special worship and praise. For that reason the Lord was pleased and immediately addressed him.
"My son, how fortunate that you, the ascetic, have come before my feet. What is your purpose, man, in coming to me? What is it you ask of me? I already know that your vows and austerities on the mountain are mature. Continue to strive for the state of a Lord of Yoga."
Thus spoke the Lord Buddha. The ascetic replied: "Lord, I beg to be instructed in the supreme, sublime Law, So that my birth may bear fruit and I may cease to have the form of a yakṣa. For it is my sole wish to find the power of a divine lord."
"Furthermore, what is the cause of rebirth for all in the world? What is the reason that some find suffering and others happiness? And why is there such disparity, some wretched and others rich? Moreover, why are some perfect in form, while others bear impurity?"
Such were the questions of the ascetic asura at the feet of the Lord Jina. The Lord's compassion for the world is said to be as radiant as the sun. For that reason, the mind of the ascetic blossomed like a lotus. Its beauty was an offering at the Lord's feet. Pleased, he spoke.
"That, man, is a precious birth, called holy in the world, when one desires the Law, is truly virtuous, and attains the good. For how few are eager to understand the complexities of existence, To strive during one's lifetime to practice the highest Law.
There are those who know the power of the supreme Law if it is followed, yet they are heedless, unwilling to question the wise. They are ever absorbed in enjoying power and pleasure, which they hold dear. Therefore their path is forgetfulness, dull to the way of the good Law.
It is the nature of the fly to desire sores, blood, and wounds. Excrement is sought by jackals, pigs, and crows desire flesh. Quarrels and vice are the desire of the utterly foolish, ignorant, and intoxicated. The good Law is the beneficial wish of the supremely virtuous, who are not proud or fierce.
There are those who are scornful, saying, 'There is no law of the gods.' 'In the future, for good and evil deeds, what purpose is there in their outcome?' 'Behold, whatever is the property of the gods, I will take it, there is no consequence.' 'Moreover, as for the property of other people, what is there to fear?'
Such a scornful person has a broken understanding in his heart. It is not truly broken, but only doubt and intoxication. Better is the state of a tree than such a base and deluded person, For a tree can be liberated, consecrated by the spells of the wise.

Canto 7. (Śārdūlavikrīḍita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | - - ~ | - - ~ | =)

"For it is difficult to become a human, sought by all beings in the world. Even if human, it is difficult to become a man, more so than a woman. Even if a man, it is difficult to become learned, virtuous, and steadfast. Even if a scholar, it is difficult to be expert in knowledge, ritual, and the scriptures.
Even if one knows ritual and scripture, the one who knows the inner meaning is rare. Even if one knows this, it is difficult to strive in all the scriptures. The one steadfast in all scriptures is rare, who constantly teaches the world. Even if one teaches the world, one who desires the Law is very difficult to find.
My son, since the holy Law is your desire, heed my words. I command you first, my son, to go and reach the Cauldron of the god Yama. Your purpose is to witness all the paths of suffering in the Cauldron of sinners. Ask the Lord of Yama about all of it; upon your return, I will instruct you.
Be steadfast, my son, do not doubt; the sinners will be there for a long time. So that you may be certain of the essence of the firm and unwavering Law. For you will clearly see the evil deeds of the lowest living beings. Swiftly, my son, depart! May you be without obstacle, seeking the good."
Then the venerable Kuñjarakarṇa departed, after taking leave of the Lord Jina. Because he was a rākṣasa and a perfected sky-farer, he plunged straight into the ocean. He arrived at the Crossroads of the Wind, in the middle of the four paths, and stopped his journey. There were the spirits Kālagupta and his companion, Niṣkala.
They addressed the asura Kuñjara: "What is your purpose in coming here, man? And what is your name? Come, speak the truth, do not lie. For we two guard the paths that lead to heaven and to Hell. It is we who direct the soul, according to its own deeds, to its proper destination."
The ascetic spoke, not hesitating to tell the spirits who guarded the way: "I am the venerable Kuñjarakarṇa, that is my name in the world, a great rākṣasa. The Lord swiftly gave me his blessing, commanding me to go to the Lord of Death. That is my purpose in coming. Now, show me the path I must follow."
"And also, tell me of the destination of the paths to the four cardinal and intermediate directions. Which souls pass along them? What are they like, still in dispute?" "Ah, since that is your question, I will tell you, if you wish to know. O venerable Kuñjarakarṇa, listen to my words and pay attention.
To the east is the path of Īśvara; that is the way for those powerful in austerities and vows. To the north is the path to Hari's world; the way for heroes who perform austerities in battle. To the west is the path of Mahāmara; the way for those heroic in generosity in the world. But to the south is the abode of Yama, the destination of sinners heading for the Cauldron.
This is the path you must follow, clean and trodden, to the great Hell. Do not be slow, for all the defiled ones will arrive, a stinking, trailing crowd. For it is certain they must wait seven months in the impassable darkness. Moreover, their arrival here is almost at hand. Hurry, press on!"
Kuñjarakarṇa, now certain, proceeded straight along the path. He arrived at a place called the City of the Iron Earth, exceedingly vast. Its edges were a blazing fire, circling it, its ramparts unbroken. In its center was a sword-tree, bearing many weapons as fruit, sharp and pointed.
Below it was a sword-grass, all sharp, its blades beyond compare. This, it is said, is where the host of Yama's army herds all the sinners. And to the south, a pair of iron mountains, terribly cruel, inspiring fear, They moved like jaws, snapping shut to devour the countless sinners, crushing them.
Kuñjarakarṇa was aghast to see the sinners gathered on the plain. All were marked by their evil deeds, filthy, their bodies unlovely and squalid. Suffering and pitiable, they were eternally tortured by the host of kiṅkaras. Like hunted animals they were all pursued, surrounded, and herded into the perilous place.
Scattered, they fled, some trampling each other, terrified of the kiṅkara host. The whole crowd broke and was hunted down, rolling over, falling in heaps. Dislocated, broken, their heads were shattered, struck, and their necks were severed. And their chests were split open, torn, leaving nothing but their entrails, torn and spilling out.
Gushing and spurting were those stabbed in the back, their cries a deep wail. Piteously they spoke: "Oh, sir, pull out the stake that is in my back!" Another sinner, trying to pull it out, went too far; his grip was not gentle. "Agh! Ouch! Oh, my lord, the pain is unbearable, it makes my chest ache!"
There were souls, chosen from the warrior class, who drew the weapons they always carried. But they could not hold out when hunted by the spirits who pursued them violently. They charged the host of Yama's army; many fell, crushed and lifeless. And those just recovered were scattered again, their stakes finding companions.
Growing ever more furious, the host of Yama's army grasped their long-shaped weapons. Vanished! Not a single sinner was left, afraid of being left behind. For whoever was caught was trampled underfoot, crushed, falling prostrate. A thousand, ten thousand holes were made at once as they struck the sinners.
And those who were caught were like logs, sought out to be impaled on iron spikes. Suffering, they were dragged away, not dying, but writhing and weeping. Pitiably, others were slammed onto dry stakes, inspiring terror. Others were seized and made to fight like rams until their heads were completely crushed.
The sword-birds, enraged and violent, came to tear apart the host of sinners. They rejoiced to see all the defiled ones spread out, their limbs severed. There were more fierce ones from Yama's host: dog-headed rākṣasas. They seized and bit them in turns, along with monstrous boars.
In chaos, not knowing what to do, the sinners fled, seeking life. Panting and exhausted, they stumbled about, staggering, hurried, and weary. Their breath came fast, they gasped for air, stumbling as if in a whirlwind, often falling. Trampled by their fellow sinners, they were crushed, exhausted, thrown about, and dizzy.
Moreover, the trace of their evil deeds created the sight of a beautiful mirage. The water of a clear lake appeared in their minds, spreading beneath the trees. Desiring water, they all raced for it, rushing to the shade of the trees. No sooner did they arrive than they were plunged into the spur-grass, pierced through, its fruit their ruin.
Then the fire-mouthed rākṣasa blew, charging and scorching the sinners. Destroyed were all who came near, their skin blistered and burnt, their scalps peeled off. Their bodies, rough and red, split open; their joints sizzled from the heat. Their suffering was neither death nor life, exhausted, they held on to their misery.
There was a sinner being hunted who paid homage, his body trembling, his expression piteous. He said: "Oh, my lord, I beg you, give me life, grant me rebirth again! I promise I will repay it with good, bowing in devotion at the feet of the monks." "Oh, so now you wish to renounce the evil you have done, when you are faced with its consequences!
For if I were to grant you rebirth in the world, you would return to infamy. You would destroy the Law, monasteries, halls, huts, and all manner of religious buildings. You would shatter the three worlds; that is why I am merciless to you. Enough! Be steadfast, you greatly defiled one! My stake comes to pierce you!"
The blow of the great stake on the sinner's chest went halfway through. His blood spurted from the wound; some came out from his nose and mouth.

exhausted, panting, stumbling, his voice weary with pain. Thus was the cause of their flight, all the sinners, afraid of being left behind.

Canto 8

(Daṇḍaka: 46-49 syllables)

Then, as the host of sinners fled in disarray, seeing their many comrades destroyed, impaled upon stakes, each one struggled to find a hiding place, the throng of sinners packed so tight they knew not where they were, pushing and shoving one another, seeking the center, trampled by their fellows, swiftly crushed as they stumbled, tripping over the feet of their brothers, where they were kicked and scattered, their noses smashed, countless of them falling, scrambling, crawling, pushing up from beneath the pile of their companions, hoping only not to be seen by the eyes of the rākṣasas who pursued and hunted the host of sinners.
There were those who fled toward the Iron-Clashing Mountains, a hundred thousand, a million of them, all kinds destroyed, their end in the great mountains that seemed to shatter, sending forth waves of blood like thunder, striking fear into the sinners who had almost reached the peaks, who then turned back, fleeing toward the Forest of Sword-Trees, pursued by the host of kiṅkaras, exhausted and hungry, and upon reaching the sword-trees they were pierced through by the sword-grass, crying out for their children, their husbands and wives, their fathers and mothers, their wailing growing louder because of the host of bhūtas in the forest of arrow-trees, a different fate for the sinners in that forest, dark with its weapon-trees.
The weapon-fruits rained down, striking the heads of the great sinners, their shoulders and their backs, making them look like porcupines, their chests were seized and stabbed, their blood flowing like red ore, spurting forth, and they were crushed by the host of kiṅkaras who attacked them in many ways, knowing no pity, killing them like pigs, like chickens, whatever they pleased, drunk on blood, while others grabbed their feet and hands, terrible to see, their voices a horrifying roar, maddened, delirious, red with blood, they danced for their own amusement, a performance where they smeared themselves with feces and pus, while others tore at limbs.
Ever more wretched and weary were the sinners, seeing their many comrades tortured by the host of kiṅkaras, who were fierce, wild, and powerful, breaking their necks, and there were those who were chained in the midst of the sinners; thus it was for those who could find no path to escape, to get far from the iron-earth, for there was no way out, as it was walled in by a great, blazing fire, and for that reason the sinners sought shelter behind the backs of the kiṅkaras themselves, a great host of them falling, trampled in the panicked flight, where they clung to each other, trying to seize weapons, grappling and wrestling with the other sinners.

Canto 9

(Sragdhara: - - - | - ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - - - | ~ - =)

In that moment, the host of kiṅkaras in their torment were overwhelmed by the rampaging sinners, Who, not knowing friend from foe in their confusion, were pressed in, surrounded, their weapons thrown aside, useless. Many struck their own comrades, striking blindly, hitting empty air, pushed back, broken. Arrogantly, defiantly, they stamped their feet, enraged, but were struck back, both sides now thrown into chaos.
The demon army charged, fierce, striking down the terrified, who fell in heaps, swiftly. And monstrous creatures appeared, cruel buffalo, serpents, tigers, elephants, and bears. They tore the host of sinners to pieces, their entrails pulled out, their corpses piled high. The suffering souls of the sinners emerged from within, wailing, crawling, and creeping away.

Canto 10

(Śikhariṇī: ~ - - | - - - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ =)

There were two hundred thousand of them, impaled on long stakes. Side by side they were skewered, like a forest of evil, dense and silent. Roasted in a blazing fire, their piteous voices could be heard: "Oh, have mercy, my lords of the kiṅkara host, let us live!"
The ascetic's gaze was fixed, filled with pity for all the sinners. He was horrified, yet his compassion could not help the wicked and the damned. His hair stood on end, and then he remembered the compassion of the Lord God for them. For that reason he bowed in homage in every direction to the glorious Ten-Powered One.
"Ah, Lord Vairocana, your compassion is great and bears fruit! The Lord's command that I come to Yama's realm is truly my good fortune. This is the trouble of a life entangled in defilement and the wrong path. Such is the fate here for sinners, to find suffering without end."
Then he swiftly continued his journey and arrived at the abode of Yama. He was amazed, for it was beautiful and wondrous, he gazed upon a lovely heaven. The beauty of its design was supreme, its artistry incomparable, enchanting. Its gateways were of crystal, its pinnacles of jewels, all shining.
Yet it had a single flaw that disturbed the heart of the beholder: Though it was a palace of radiant light, it was not a place of peace. A great copper cauldron with many spouts stood in its courtyard, a terrifying sight, Overhung by a sword-tree, whose fruits were sharp weapons.

Canto 11

(Mṛdukomala: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ =)

Arriving inside the palace, the ascetic sought the Lord of Death. There in the golden hall, the Lord God, it is said, was welcoming a guest. He did not at first know the nature of the one who had come, such was his power. When the courtesies and refreshments were done, he spoke thus:
"How fortunate, Kuñjarakarṇa, you who practice austerities on the snowy Mount Meru. Ah, what is your purpose, and what is your business with me, my son? Is it your wish to wander for pleasure, to amuse yourself in the world of Yama? This is your first time coming to Yama's abode," said the host.
"My purpose in coming to you, Lord of Death, is that I was commanded to witness impurity, All the forms of suffering and struggle in the abode of Yama. And the Lord Yama, it is said, will explain the cause of it all. Such was the command of the Lord Jina to me, which I hold fast."
"My connection to this is that I was ordered to come to the abode of Yama, Lord of Death. Previously, I entered the monastery of the excellent, immaculate Mind of Enlightenment. My worship, spells, and praise were for the Lord Gautama. Joyfully I heard the good Law, and in return for this gift, I was questioned."
"But he did not at once teach me the good Law. Instead, he sent me to come to Yama's world, for the purpose of witnessing impurity. When I have returned from here, he said, he will instruct me. That is the reason I have come to the world of the Lord Yama."
"Ah, so it was by the Lord's command that you have come to us. Now I will tell you of the way the sinful soul is met. There are three causes for the fruits of good and evil to be experienced: Action, speech, and mind. An error in one of these is the cause."
"Furthermore, their nature is of three grades: low, middle, and high. The sin of the body is less than that of wicked, harsh, and abusive speech. The evil of speech is less than the evil of the mind, if it is evil. Like the weight of the king of mountains is the sin if all three are combined."
"Cherish these three and offer them to the Lord Sugata. Bodily virtue, when spiritual, brings the fruit of power. Good speech brings the fruit of heaven, if it is constantly used for praise. A mind of pure contemplation will find steadfast liberation."
"A mind that is faithless, that delights in the faults of others or in their lack of virtue, Harshness in speech, deception, lies, poison, and slander, Wickedness in action, killing, treachery, stealing the property and wives of others— These are the sins of the three that bring forth the suffering of sin."
"Behold the nature of the sinful soul and what it finds in the abode of Yama. Its life-force neither dies nor lives, but is eternally tortured. If its sins are few, it is punished lightly, not heavily. All receive their due according to the nature of their evil deeds."
"If one has wealth—gold, jewels, especially silver, cattle, rice— Its limit is only the house; upon one's death, one does not find it again. As for friends and relatives, the cremation ground is their limit. Only the likeness of one's good and evil deeds follows like a shadow."
"For it is impossible not to experience the fruit of one's good and evil deeds. As for happiness and suffering, there is no other source for them. It is from one's own self that they come, following all past karma. That is why the great and virtuous person is not heedless of what he finds."
"If the mind is not restrained, it follows its desires without end. Desire for sense-pleasures and greed are its power, which it does not abandon. Its engagement in the objects of the senses is what brings infamy in its wake. Not in vain are its evil deeds reckoned; their end is in the cauldron."
"The proof is that they all flock to Yama's realm, without cease. There was a path you traveled on your way here, clean and well-trodden. And the city of the Iron Earth, a league wide, was filled with the many who were unrighteous, evil-doers, base people in the world of mortals."
"But not so is the path of the soul that comes to the abode of the gods; it is faint. Overgrown and tangled are the sprouts of grass and vines, rustling softly. It is still, lonely, and desolate, as if it were a phantom city. It is difficult for a person to find his way to the worthy assembly of the gods' abode."
"So, that is the reason for the base and sinful in the abode of Yama. But what is the cause of their living again, when they have truly died? For they died in the world of mortals, so say the people there." "Ah, since that is your question, listen to the truth of the soul's divisions."
"The soul is thus: five bodies in one. First is the ātmā, second the parātma with the antarātma third, Fourth is the nirātma, and its embodiment is the cetanātma, the fifth. Desire in the conscious self is the reason the five souls become one."

Canto 12

(Jaloddhatagati: ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ =)

The reason that it goes to Yama's abode is because of the unrighteous and evil deeds that follow it. My host it is that punishes it always, for the nature of its evil deeds demands it.
But as for those who are supreme, who are liberated, they are released, they strip themselves from their bodies. Like a lamp, or a stone, they give no sign. They create the form of the five souls.
And though they are in the manifest body, they cannot be pointed to. For they are in the mind and in that which points; how then could they be perceived separately?
But enough of my instruction to you. Know that the Lord God will speak later. The Lord Jina, who loves to be praised, he is the supreme form who will instruct you.
"Lord Yama, may your glory be eternal. Your compassion for this Kuñjara is fruitful. But what is that cauldron that is being washed? What is its purpose, now that it is clean?"
"I am puzzled by it, for it is to be filled, yet it is turned upside down, with nothing inside. What is the reason for it being so empty? This is my question; please tell me."
"There is a great sinner who is to be cast in. His time in torment will be long. For a hundred thousand years is his term; when it is full, he will be in the cauldron of misery."
"After that, the weapon-birds will come to tear apart that wicked, defiled soul. It will be displayed, they say, in the iron tree, and dashed against the sharp sword-blades."
"When that is done, it will be brought to the iron plain, and hung by its feet from a bamboo pole. A fire will burn beneath it without cease. Its time in each torment is the same."
"But as for his arrival in Yama's realm, in seven nights he is expected to come. That is the reason the cauldron is being washed, as the place of his torment when he arrives."
"Oh, how fruitful is the Lord God's instruction! My heart feels as if it has been sliced, hearing this. I long to become a human in the future; I see the pity of being a man is a difficult thing."
"Again I ask of the Lord Yama: who is the name of that sinner? Come, tell me, sir. It seems you know his name."

Canto 13

(Sragdhara: - - - | - ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - - - | ~ - =)

"There is a gandharva king, famed for his beauty in Indra's heaven, of exceeding power. His name is none other than Pūrṇavijaya, an equal in heaven to the god Indra. Many, it is said, were his wicked deeds, for he was not steadfast in the great dharma of old. That is the reason he will be tormented for a long, long time by the demon host."
"Now he enjoys heaven, receiving the fruit of his good karma from the past. But his evil deeds remain, clinging to him, and they too demand to be experienced. Thus spoke the Lord of Death to the ascetic, who was as if thunderstruck. "Oh, so it is Pūrṇavijaya, then, who is the sinner with such a heavy burden!"
"Indeed, he is my spiritual brother; he is the reason I performed austerities and fled to the mountains, because I was shamed that Pūrṇavijaya had attained heaven as a king of the vidyādharas. I was nearly heedless in my path, constantly desiring power in the beautiful heavens. It is certain I would have ended up in hell, had I not shown devotion to the glorious Lord of Jinas."
"Now it is clear: Pūrṇavijaya will find the affliction of a leper's body. Useless is his attainment of heavenly glory as king of the gods called vidyādharas. His sins are not forgotten; they will be repaid by experiencing great sinfulness. But he is far from knowing his sinful state, made heedless by his power."
"Now my course is clear, Lord Yama. I will continue to be your student in the good Law. For my only hope is to take refuge in the compassion of the glorious, great Lion of the Śākyas. And my heart is humbled, taking shelter in the fact that I have not yet bowed in devotion." Thus spoke the ascetic. Lord Yama knew that he was acting on the command of the glorious Lord of Jinas.
The ascetic paid homage at the feet of Lord Yama, who was pleased. He asked again if the sinner could return to the world of mortals, or if he would be tormented forever in Yama's abode, in constant, intense, and great suffering. Lord Yama spoke of his fate after he had experienced Yama's world.
"The sign of one reborn from hell into the world of mortals is this: He may be born a leper, blind, deaf, mute, mad, hunchbacked, goitered, or swollen, club-footed, with a prominent navel, lame, consumptive, coughing, palsied, or paralyzed. If healthy, he will be a slave, the child of a slave, a servant, a buffoon, a sorcerer, or a madman."
"And those whose sins are heavy become barbarians, outcasts, wretches. They become leeches, worms, plants, beasts, wild animals, and also frogs, fish, and birds. Such are the births of the sinful, unlovely, different from the birth of a virtuous person." These words of Lord Yama served as a lesson to the mind of the ascetic, who was greatly pleased.
The ascetic took his leave of Lord Yama, and after paying homage, he departed. Slowly, lingeringly, as if reluctant, he gazed at the beautiful path to heaven. And he thought of Pūrṇavijaya, who would be cast into the cauldron in the end. Great was his compassion for his friend, the reason he went to Indra's heaven, a messenger on a mission.

Canto 14

(Śikhariṇī: ~ - - | - - - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ =)

He ascended to Indra's heaven, gazing upon the beautiful eight abodes. To the east, the heaven of Indra; nearby in the southeast, the abode of Agni. To the south, the heaven of Lord Yama; nearby, that of the Lord of Rākṣasas. To the west, the heaven of Lord Varuṇa; nearby, the abode of Māruta.
The heaven of Kubera is in the north, the supreme abode of the lord of yakṣas. In the northeast is the abode of glorious Īśāna, he who is worshipped as the lord of bhūtas. The Triśṛṅga palace was visible, supreme in the center, the abode of Śiva. To its south was the heaven of Brahmā, and to its north, the realm of Viṣṇu.
Beyond the heaven of Lord Varuṇa and that of the Lord of Rākṣasas, there was the heaven of the glorious Pūrṇavijaya, which the ascetic sought out. The beauty of the heaven was of many designs, its decorations shining, with its golden halls and, moreover, its jeweled gates.

Canto 15

(Jagadnātha: ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ =)

Meanwhile, it was night as he sought to reach the destination of the one he intended to speak with. Truly like the moon were the silver ramparts and jeweled gates, all radiant. He passed by the guards at the gate without being challenged, for they knew he was a friend of the excellent Pūrṇavijaya, and so he went straight on.
He arrived and entered the inner gate, then knocked and knocked upon the door. The excellent Pūrṇavijaya was asleep, resting his head on his beloved's lap. She was Kusumagandhavatī, a name of supreme beauty, praised in song. Startled, she woke her beloved, telling him of the knocking at the door.
Then the king of the apsaras listened, and recognized the voice of the one who had come. "My brother, the asura Kuñjara!" he said, joyfully ordering the door to be opened. "My brother, what good fortune is this! It is like a dream that you come in the dead of night." "There is, my younger brother, a heavy matter that is the reason for my urgent visit, it is no small thing."
"I went to pay homage at the feet of the Lord Sugata, the supreme one, at the immortal Bodhi, the immaculate. He commanded me to go to the abode of Yama, to see those who experience their sin. I was terrified to see all the sinners, each one enduring great pain. But there was one cauldron being washed; I asked your brother what its purpose was."
"It is for you, they said; for a hundred thousand years will be your time in the cauldron. And when you are done in the cauldron, you will be taken to the weapon-tree by the demon birds. After that, you will go to the plain of the iron earth, to be hung from a bamboo pole. And it is expected that in seven nights you will be cast into the cauldron."
"That was the instruction of the Lord Yama to me just now; do not be heedless. I must return, for I am in a hurry to go to the lotus feet of the Lord Gautama." Thus spoke the ascetic Kuñjara, just as he was descending from the stone platform. His feet were seized and wept over by the king of the divine apsaras.
"Ah, my brother, what am I to do? Immense is your younger brother's fear of this sin! Seize me, brother, from the cauldron to come; your younger brother promises to repay you with a virtuous heart. I beg of the Lord Yama that my life be returned to the realm of the gods. If it can be bought with gold, jewels, gems, and silver, buy my life, brother!"
"Alas, what can I do? There is no remedy for this. Sin cannot be bought off, its life exchanged for jewels, gems, or gold. What could be the payment, my son, if you owe a debt of wealth that can be paid in that way? But for your path of unrighteousness, sin itself is the only payment, there is no other."
"It is my wish that you come with me to pay homage at the feet of the great Jina. He is now in the monastery of the excellent, immaculate, supreme Bodhi. Tomorrow morning we will depart; you will be escorted by the divine apsaras and apsarīs. I, your brother, will be your companion, and will present you at the feet of the great Jina."
Then the great apsara king commanded his host of divine apsaras and apsarīs to be summoned. And to his beloved he took his leave, his tender words like a mixture of honey: "My little sister, take care of the house; your brother is going to pay homage at the feet of the great Jina. May your beauty be kept safe, a precious thing. Your brother will not be long on his journey."
Thus spoke the king of the celestials to his beloved, whom he embraced and kissed. Playfully he kissed her cheek, and there were those who offered him the betel from his mouth. She was silent, stunned, unaware, it seemed, the beautiful one, of her beloved's departure. Her heart was anxious that he would be gone for a long time; that was the reason her tears flowed.
It would take too long to tell of all his actions and the refreshments for his guest. When dawn came, the celestial king had washed, adorned himself, and put on his ornaments. All the host that would escort him on his journey were ready and waiting. Complete were the provisions they brought, each one seeking to please the mind of their lord.

Canto 16

(Suvadanā: - - - | - ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - ~ ~ | ~ =)

The gandharva king departed, beautifully escorted by his friend, the great ascetic. Lovely were the vidyādharīs and the celestial soldiers who followed, a thronging crowd behind them. Like a host of stars spreading their light, they moved across the sky, following its course. Because of their red garments and ornaments, their combined radiance shone brightly.
Swiftly they arrived at the famed monastery named Sambodhi Vimala. There a throne of gold and jewels was prepared by Pūrṇavijaya. It was the place for the glorious Ten-Powered One to teach the fruitful, supreme Law. Let us pass over the sight of the canopies set up, the banners, flags, and parasols.
And fine cloths, upper garments, and ornaments were offered with beautiful food-offerings, incense and lamps, fragrant powders and consecrated rice, together with water for the feet and for rinsing the mouth, not far away. Fragrant garlands and wreaths of flowers, their perfume spreading, sweet and thick with civet. There the two of them worshipped the glorious Lord Sugata; this was their prayer:

Canto 17

(Śārdūlavikrīḍita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | - - ~ | - - ~ | =)

Oṃ! Homage of one who worships at the twin feet of the glorious, supreme King of Dharma, You who dwell in the excellent world-sphere, whose temple is the incomparable sky, You who are the God of the manifest and unmanifest soul, becoming the infinite, pure form, God of gods, of the thirty deities, of asuras and all others, feared, holder of the bodhyagrimudrā.
You who pervade all worlds, whose consciousness is immaculate, Your abode is in the Emptiness of being, you are the great and the small, the subtle, the far and the near, You who are the manifest essence of the highest truth in the minds of the gods who take refuge in you.

Your will is said to be present in the holy waters, the mountains, and the seas.

Your merit and altruism are the reason you are followed by the bodhisattva-souls, And your supreme, heroic power is called the pure, immeasurable dharma. Like the rain of the Kārtika season is the nectar of your love for the world, which is like a young sprout. Your compassion for all steadfast beings spreads like the light of the sun and moon.
Such was the beginning of the praise uttered by the one who worshipped in devotion. Then he spoke to the feet of the Lord, paying homage with reverence: "By your command, O glorious Six-Knower, I have now seen the nature of sinners, And it was made clear by the teaching of Lord Yama what the origin of sin is.
My plea to the feet of the Lord Sugata is for your pure instruction now. There are two of us who would be taught the supreme truth of the dharma, So that there may be no obstacle for me in finally reaching the feet of the Lord Jina, For I do not desire to take refuge in the fruit of a lesser heaven, a mere external sanctuary.
I do not wish for liberation in the wheel of existence, which is perilous, terrifying, and full of sorrow. The proof of this is the fate of Pūrṇavijaya, king of the heavenly apsaras. Useless is his state, for he will be cast, it is said, into the Gomukha cauldron. And Lord Yama said his sins were of three kinds, and the three are now fulfilled."
"Om, my son, your desire for the highest good is most holy. Since you wish to attain the supreme state, the path to mokṣa, listen. Where were you long ago, when your mother was a young maiden? Where were you when your father was a youth, in the void or in the space between?
It was from the passion of your father and mother that they were moved to unite. From the liṅga of your father you emerged, like molten tin, poured out. Indeed, Kāma is its name; Ratih is your name when you clung to your mother. There in the blossoming lotus of your mother's womb, you took on a definite form.

Canto 18

(Upendrabajra: ~ - ~ | - - ~ | ~ - ~ | - =, Indrabajra: - - ~ | - - ~ | ~ - ~ | - =)

You were followed by the five great elements. The work of earth is the body, The work of fire is the eyes, Water, none other, its chief work is the tongue.
The wind's work is the breath, none other, Ether is that which makes your head. All are joined, embodied as a living being. The joining of earth is the cetanātmā.
The joining of water is the nirātmā. The joining of fire is the ātmā itself. The joining of wind is the antarātmā. The joining of ether is, of course, the parātmā.
That is the purpose of the five souls in the body: Ātmā, parātmā, and antarātmā, And also nirātmā with cetanātmā. Such is the nature of the five souls in the body.

Canto 19

(Basantatilaka: - - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | ~ - ~ | - =)

Ātmā is the name for that which perceives, which sees this world. That which hears all sounds is the parātmā. The breath, the wind, is called the antarātmā. And the substance of sound is what is named nirātmā.
And the pulsing in the body is the cetanātmā. Desire is the function of the five souls in the body. That is the body of the five great elements. When your time and season are complete, you emerge.

Canto 20

(Bhujaṅgaprayāta: ~ - - | ~ - - | ~ - - | ~ - =)

You were cared for with love by your mother, In every way she held you as her child. Day and night, she slept little, watching over you, Suffering, she showed her love, performing vows to keep you alive.
And in her anxiety, she was disheveled, weary, and worn, Because her love for her child troubled her heart. Always praying for your well-being and long life, Long was her hardship in caring for you and serving you.
Such is your debt to your father and mother from long ago. Then you grew up, thanks to their diligent efforts. Illumined by the light of the moon and sun, You did not know then how to address your father and mother.
The six enemies emerged, there in your body, They who poison the body, the five senses themselves. The Lord, the god of gods, was in your body, But when you were a child, your mind created only foolishness.
Your arrogance extended even to the poor, You did not hesitate to speak ill of virtuous old monks. You forgot your origin and your destination. That is why you have seen the suffering in Yama's realm.
The debts of being human are fourfold: To the world, to the Lord God, to your teacher, and to your parents. Devotion to the Lord God is your repayment to God. As for the world, strive that it not suffer, seek the contentment of the world.
The debt to your teacher is repaid in your own good students. The debt to your parents is repaid in your own good children. Make this the means of your constant, unbroken devotion, And you will be fortunate to find the supreme liberation.

Canto 21

(Mṛgāṅśa: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | =)

This is the precious secret of birth, my teaching to you, which you must heed. Be diligent in listening to my instruction, do not take it lightly. For now you will find the fruit of my words, a most fruitful thing. May your defilements be destroyed from your bodies, both of you, my sons.
Thus spoke the glorious Sugata, teaching the dharma to the two, a most rare gift. Then the great ascetic bowed at the feet of the Lord and replied: "By the Lord's command, may your grace continue, have pity on the shelterless. My freedom from rebirth, the means to mokṣa, is what I ask at the feet of the Lord of Jinas."
"Om, my son, your goal is holy and precious, and most fruitful. Now, this is the way to remove the evil of the senses, all impurity. The pure wisdom-water is for washing the face, for bathing again and again, So that the filth that obstructs may be shattered, that which is in the body.
Not the water from a spring, nor from a conch shell with chanted spells and rites, Can succeed in removing the filth of this evil body. It is not far from the body, the perfection of stillness that must be practiced. That is called the immaculate, the highest truth that must be contemplated."

Canto 22

(Sragdhara: - - - | - ~ - | - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - - - | ~ - =)

"Thus, that which is commanded is truly my body, the body of the Lord. That which is there is here, it is said; you are I, famed in the world of heaven. Useless is it thus, and difficult for one who does not master the meaning of this teaching. My son, if you desire the state of mokṣa, hold fast to this, do not have a divided mind.
For it is difficult to grasp, subtle, great and small, and rare for a person to find. Even if one knows its meaning, only then will one manifestly find purity. Fortunate is the monk who strives for it, who has it as his provision for release, untouched by the stain of defilement. And do not choose between the three, whether you are Buddhist, Śaiva, or a divine Ṛṣi.
He he, my sons, both of you, come here before my feet and be seated. There is a special matter I will reveal to you, and I will speak of its nature. Now, my sons, this is what is fought over by the Buddhist, Śaiva, and Ṛṣi factions. They do not agree, for each one elevates his own god of gods."

Canto 23

(Jagaddhita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ =)

Such is the state of those who hold to austerities and vows, their minds in conflict. That is the reason the groups of monks in the land are deluded and not released. They do not know the unity of their creed; one, two, and three become many, yet are not other. Like the array of the Sugata, the five Buddhas, the five Kuśika ṛṣis, and the five Śaiva monks.
But as for all of them, if they are a body, they are manifest there; know this: Akṣobhya is the great Kuśika, Garga; Ratnasambhava is he. The sage Maitri is Amitābha; the sage Kuruṣya is named Amoghasiddhi, for certain. Patañjala is I, there is no other; I am the lord of the Buddhist gods.
And as for the five aspects of Śiva, in truth they are the five Sugatas, the highest truth, none other. Akṣobhya is the god Īśvara, though he is described with different attributes. The god Brahmā is Ratnasambhava; Mahāmara is the god Amitābha. The god Amoghasiddhi is none other than Madhusūdana, if he has four arms.
Now, as for the unity of the world, you must know it in truth. I, Vairocana, am Buddha-form and Śiva-form, the teacher of the entire world. That is why I am called Lord Teacher, renowned throughout all the world. I alone am the all-pervading, the special, supreme deity in all the universe.
In short, my father, do not fail to have a truly pure mind. Do not praise a wicked faction, do not have a desire to grasp anything but peace. May your goal be accomplished, my sons, both of you, and may your hearing of the teaching be fruitful. Such were the words from the mind of the Lord God to the two great ascetics, who again paid homage.
"Faithful is the Lord in his sermon on the dharma, unhindered in giving his grace. Let not my rākṣasa nature be spoken of; my desire is due to your compassion. And may the king of the gods, Pūrṇavijaya, be cured of his foul leprosy. Humbly I ask leave to return to my hermitage, to seek the great state."
Having taken his leave and bowed at the feet of the Lord, he returned to his hermitage. The vidyādhara, it is said, remained behind, approaching the feet of the Lord Gautama. He came forward, prostrated himself, and with devotion begged for the rite of liberation from the body. An atonement, so that his sin might be cancelled and his torment in the Gomukha cauldron averted.
The Lord spoke: "There is no medicine for the coming of the end, of destruction. As long as the body exists, for even a moment its reality is certainly not fixed. My son, as for the state of the body, how can you escape from that? But there is a fruit you will find, now that you have been worthy to hear my dharma.
Your sleep will be your death, yet you will not eternally experience your sin. Your limit in hell will be to endure pain for nine nights, remembering my words. On the tenth night, you will return, whole and eternal again. All the fine features of your body will be destroyed, reversed, and made fruitless.
But be mindful, at the time you fall asleep, to hold to a pure mind. When your soul has been released, hold fast to this teaching for its return to the corpse. That, my son, is called jīvavāsita; you will be able to avoid a long wandering." Thus spoke the glorious Six-Knower, it is said, and the king of the apsaras paid homage to him.
The homage of the prostrate one, in devotion at the twin lotus-feet of the Lord, is eternal. "May my external and internal reverence and worship at your feet be seen by the Lord of Jinas. You who are the manifest creator of the world's welfare, the constant refuge for the shelterless in action and thought, A form of illusion, a soul-protector, an image in the heart, taken as the chosen deity."
In short, after the Lord's grace, it was felt as a consecration, nothing less. "Only the Lord Buddha is the cause of my perfection. Let not my humble mind be considered; I ask leave to return, with your blessing." Thus spoke the excellent lord, Pūrṇavijaya, when his purpose was complete.

Canto 24

(Aśvalalita: ~ ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ =)

Now, after he had taken his leave, paying homage at the feet of the Lord Buddha, it is told, He went forth, escorted by the commanders of the apsara host and the lovely celestial nymphs. All who saw him were amazed, praising Pūrṇavijaya, for his impurity was gone. But the apsarīs, who had long served him in love and pleasure, approached with joyful cries.
Not long was his journey on the path; he swiftly arrived at Indra's heaven. He was met by his beloved, Kusumagandhavatī, supremely loyal, devoted, and happy. There he told her of the sequence of the grace he had received, the flawless, fruitful dharma, And that he naturally had to ask her to watch over him as he slept for ten nights, during which he would not speak.
But his beloved, ordered to keep watch, was suddenly as if struck with sorrow, her heart filled with foreboding. Tears welled in her eyes, not because she would disobey her beloved's word, But because it created anxiety in her heart, recalling the words of the asura ascetic long ago: That he would long suffer his sins in the Avīci hell, the iron earth; this she endured.
His promise was for ten nights, yet she could not believe it. Kusumagandhavatī was tormented by her love for her departing beloved. Her wish long ago had been to follow him and share his suffering in the realm of Yama. Now she was left behind to watch over the sleep of the lord of gods, unable to refuse.
Now, in the afterlife, Pūrṇavijaya's soul went to the realm of Yama. There the host of Yama's army roared, ordering all their troops to come with weapons. All rushed forward, scrambling to strike him, powerfully attacking, stabbing with their sharp nails, Escorting him to Yama's realm without pity, surrounding the defiled soul.

Canto 25

(Śārdūlavikrīḍita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | - - ~ | - - ~ | =)

Let us pass over the soul of the lord of gods, weary and grieving in the cauldron. The one left behind in the world of the gods, it is told, was weeping in sorrow and grief. All the celestial women mourned for the suffering lord of the gandharvas. And the lament of the queen was a weeping that wrung the soul and inspired pity.
"Ah, my love, you who are gone from our bed, how cruel of you to leave your beloved! My wish, my brother, is to follow you wherever you go, even if you go to the Raurava hell. But now you have left me, taken away, and it creates a crushing pain in my heart. Alas, my love, to think of you in Yama's realm, suffering a great torment!
Is there no way, my treasure, for me to be your companion, to wait for you in the Raurava hell? For my love for you is great, my pity; what will you cry out in the cauldron? Fortunate would it be if my treasure could be ransomed, if I could take the place of your sin. Let me find a way to clear your debt for your unrighteousness, for the many sins to be suffered in the cauldron.
Wait for me, my brother, your companion in pity, to suffer the great torment. Let me be your companion in the forest of sword-trees, or if you are to be hung from a bamboo pole. Even if I am to be killed, torn apart by the kiṅkaras of the god Yama, I am not afraid; only know this, my love, your bond of loyalty and love."

Canto 26

(Udgatavisama: ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ = // - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ = // ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | =)

Thus was heard the sound of Kusumagandhikā's lament as she wept, Her heart burned, exhausted with pain, In her words of sorrow, grief, and pity.
Faint, weak, and weary was her body from the power of her sorrow. Her heart was choked, her sight grew dim, She fainted, collapsing on the couch of her beloved.
The attendant apsara women came to help her with gentle kindness. "Hush, be calm, my lady," thus they woke her, "It is certain he will live again, he who is dead."
"My instruction from my lord was about the promise of the king of apsaras. You will see him cured of his leprous impurity. To say otherwise would be a lie," she said.
"After the grace of the Lord of Ten Powers was given to the king of gods, There is no reason for doubt. For he spoke of the supreme nectar, the good dharma."
"Why, my lady, would you not follow the word of your lord who is 'dead'? Wait for his promise that he will live again. If the promised time passes, then death is the proper goal."
Such were the words of the apsara women, counseling her, bringing coolness to her heart. Suddenly, because she heard them, There was a slight stirring of consciousness in the grieving one.

Canto 27

(Kusumavilasita: - ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ | - ~ =)

Now, he who was in hell, it is told, on his ninth night, There he became mindful, and the sharpness of the cauldron felt as nothing. When the tenth night arrived, he held to a meditation of pure mind. The cauldron was shattered, its fire died, transformed into a jeweled lotus pond.
And the sword-tree became a lovely Pārijāta, all glorious. Its fruits were flawless gems, Kaustubha jewels, its flowers golden necklaces. Its soft leaves were a fragrant footstool, its blood-sap exceedingly sweet-smelling. It ceased to be foul, sharp-smelling, and pungent; all its qualities were reversed, bringing bliss.
The fire-mouthed rākṣasa, seeing the Avīci hell powerless and without fire, Seized his trident and then, threatening, pointed with his left hand, eager to attack. His trident was shattered, destroyed, disintegrating like dust in a strong wind. He fled in shame and ordered his companion to take his place and attack.
At once the fierce sword-birds came, hurling iron boulders. The size of the Daughter of the Mountain, they turned to dust and were blown into the sky. Thus all of Yama's army who tried to do harm were all suddenly shamed. For this reason, the host of Yama's rākṣasas went to report to the god Antaka.

Canto 28

(Kilayu anədəṅ: - - ~ | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | =)

The homage of all the asura servants at the feet of Antaka, the lord of death, was to inform him: "The one named Pūrṇavijaya, my lord, who was ordered by the Lord God to be tormented for a long time, His term was to be a hundred thousand years, so it was heard. But now, after only ten nights, it has surely shattered and become a celestial abode."
"All the weapons of the Lord's army are destroyed, their end is to become dust. And the heat of the fire-mouthed asuras has become cool, they are no longer feared. The torments have no effect, all of Yama's army is turned back." Such was the report of the asura servants; Yama, the lord of death, was perplexed to hear it.
Then the god Yama went to the Avīci hell, escorted by the asura army. When he saw the perfect youthfulness of the soul, like the god of love, It was different, incomparable, not like a sinful soul suffering in Yama's realm. For that reason he spoke soothingly, with kind, pleasing, and sweet words.
"O you of perfect beauty, like the god Kāma come to Yama's realm, What is the reason you were able to destroy Yama's realm and make it a celestial court? For you were sent here to suffer your sins in the Avīci hell for a long, long time. Now you have been here ten nights; what is it that has caused this marvel?"
"Lord Yama, may I tell you the reason I have found this teaching? The Lord of Ten Powers is he who granted that I would not be long in my defilement. My limit for torment in the Gomukha cauldron was nine nights, no more. But Yama's army came to attack me, and that is why they were all turned back."
"The supreme teacher, the lord of sages, is he who gave this great grace. You are most fortunate, sir, to be blessed like a god among all the celestials. Now return, sir, to your own domain, my father, go back again. There is one who will escort you, Kālarātri is his name, he will follow you."

Canto 29

(Basantatilaka: - - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | ~ - ~ | - =)

Lord Yamarāja returned, not to be described further. The soul of King Pūrṇavijaya is now the subject. It entered his corpse again, not straying from the path. Then he awoke, as if from a sleep, without equal.
Startled was the queen, Kusumagandhavatī. Gently her beloved calmed her as she prostrated herself and paid long homage, For her heart was trembling, overcome with joy, When she saw the lord of gods awaken and live.
King Pūrṇavijaya spoke to his queen: "My lady, I have now paid my debt in Yama's realm. The suffering was pitiable, I was tormented in the Avīci hell. Many were the torments of Yama's servants in the past."
"But when the promised night arrived, my brother, I practiced yoga. I remembered the final teaching of the supreme Buddha. The cauldron was shattered, transformed into a beautiful celestial court. The god Yamādhipa himself was amazed by me."
"It was none other than a friend, divine and most special. A virtuous friend is the means to good fortune. That virtuous one was my brother Kuñjarakarṇa, a heavy debt I owe him. He was the sole reason I sought refuge at the feet of the Lord of Jinas."
"A virtuous friend is like a jewel worn in the heart. But one cannot approach him when one is wicked. When his mind is at peace, he is like a glowing coal. It is certain that one will always be influenced by his ways."
"My only desire now is to follow my brother, none other, There to the snowy Mount Semeru, his beautiful hermitage. I will constantly strive in chanting spells, I will practice yoga, So that the Lord Tathāgatendra may love me eternally."
"So, tomorrow morning I will go before the feet of the Lord of Jinas. All the celestial army and the celestial women I will order to escort me with offerings for worship. When I have paid homage and made my offering, I will go to the mountain."

Canto 30

(Jagaddhita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ =)

Such were the words of the celestial king, the cause of his beloved's sorrow, For her love could not bear to be checked, she who had just been denied the bliss of their union. Her heart ached with the longing of having been left behind, just as their joy was blossoming anew. And now, he said, his goal was asceticism; there was no desire for their cherished lovemaking.
The eager wish of the lovely apsara women, to shower him with flowers upon his return, was thwarted. Their offering was to be a stage for lovemaking, a bed to reward his passion, a stand for their love. But now there was a knot of hair undone, a garland of withered flowers, a symbol of parting. She cared not for her offerings, her clothes disheveled, at the brink of her fate.
Now the mind of the celestial queen was in turmoil, her heart confused, without purpose, For she thought her beloved, the lord of gods, had fallen for the beauty of another apsarī. This was the cause of her grief, which brought forth tears, telling of her heart's sorrow. Then all her attendants took their leave, returning to their chambers, defeated by the night.
The queen, Gandhavatī, was left in deep sorrow, her grief a turmoil; she knew no peace. The only words she heard were that her devoted husband would practice austerities. Stunned, faint, her spirit broken, she imagined his actions, should he leave her. Not knowing what to do, she bowed her head and wept, distraught, regretting the past.
Her face grew more pale, as if reflecting the beauty that was scattered by her suffering. The curve of her waist, weary and lovely, was like the swaying of a blossoming aśoka tree. The flowers of her tears bloomed on her eyelids, like blue lotuses. Her voice, as she wept, was like a bee sipping a flower, a soft sobbing, without a sound.
The glorious vidyādhara king, Pūrṇavijaya, spoke with tender, soothing words: "My treasure, my mother, you who are flawless in beauty, let your brother be met with the sweetness of your glance. Do not weep, do not look at me so, my little one; your brother has just returned to you, to be welcomed. My great longing for you is the reason I am here, to awaken you. Why do you not look at me?"
"My treasure, my mother, what is the reason for this weariness mixed with tears, which mars your divine beauty? I am humbled by your silence, which is like an impassable mountain, the terror of a pathless crossing. The depths of your heart are a ravine, remote and far, as if washing away my own passion. It makes my heart clouded and dark, shrouded in desire, like a gathering of mist."
"How great is the sorrow in your heart for my long absence, while I served you? I did not wait upon you in the inner chambers, to fulfill every wish of your heart. Truly, my treasure, your brother is not angry, for this is indeed my own fault. If there is a punishment for my unfaithfulness, let me bear it all, whatever it may be."

Canto 31

(Mṛdukomala: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ =)

Thus spoke the lord of gods, feigning defeat, seeking to win her with his glance. With tenderness he drew her near, and with joy he wiped the tears of the celestial queen. Her loose hair was brought to his face as he caressed the knot of her coiffure. Gently and lovingly he kissed her, asking the reason for his beloved's weeping.
What bird would not cease its song, what lovely, lured creature would not be silenced? Entranced, delighted, captivated by his nearness, she could not move away. Thus were the words of Kusumagandhavatī, following her heart's grief, Spoken softly, in a broken voice, halting and slow, with heavy sighs.
"Oh, my king, the reason I weep is that you will go away. You will follow your friend, Kuñjarakarṇa, so it is said. Alas, what hope have I if my longing is destroyed by austerities that sever love? My only happiness is to follow you, to share your life of asceticism."
"My treasure, my mother, the reason I seek power and undertake austerities Is my shame that the wife of Indra does not yet pay homage to you. The god Śakra and the other guardians of the four worlds are all beneath you. If I become the supreme leader, it is you alone they will serve."
"And, my treasure, if in another life you wish for the world of mortals, There I will become a handsome prince, of flawless virtue. You, my treasure, will become a beautiful princess, with none to equal you. The joy of our courtship will be as if we were discovering it for the first time."
Many were his words to console the heart of the grieving one. The only result was that she was captured by beauty, and a venomous love arose. It brought an end to the thoughts of one who was like the beauty of the fourth month. Her passion was bound, her mind captured by the celestial king who had 'died'.
Her sorrow ended; she yielded to her longing, willingly submitting. Her resolve was firm: to follow her beloved, to savor pleasure as he wished. The lord of apsaras arrayed the union of their love-yoga. The heart of the one who received it fainted at the meeting of ecstatic bliss.
It would be too long to tell of all their actions in the night. It was like a culmination of the celestial queen's radiance; every wish was fulfilled. Joyfully she served him again, he who had returned to her charms. In bliss they enjoyed beauty, sharing a meal in the courtyard, together with love.

Canto 32

(Sragdhara: - - - | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - - - | ~ - =)

Now, as the night passed, the host of the army of gods was summoned. Swiftly they came forth with all their ornaments, emerging into the main road with their beloveds. And the apsarī maidens, beautifully arrayed, their hearts full, came in glorious procession. Their graceful movements were like an escort for the final end of the bonds of passion.
But some were still adorning themselves, lingering, choosing a royal lion-style coiffure, Hoping in vain that it would come undone from the slightest trembling of the hair on their heads. Moreover, the weight of two or three added ornaments was hidden in the great coiffure. Their adornments were a jumble, crowded together, covering their mouths when seen.
There were two vidyādharīs whispering to each other, their only thought the same. They spoke, it is said, of their heartache and frustration that he did not want to be their husband. Now their hope was gone, for he had chosen another, he whose beauty they had once desired. By chance he glanced their way, and they turned aside, as if craving a sour fruit.
Now the glorious gandharva king, having put on his many-colored ornaments, His divine garments shining, his fly-whisk adorned with patterns of gold and red, Lovingly led his queen, and then came forth, not delaying his departure. Many were the vidyādharīs and the celestial soldiers, who had been waiting long and were ready.
The vidyādhara king departed, beautifully escorted by the immeasurable army of gods. And the lovely vidyādharīs escorted him, the handsome and glorious gandharva. For the escorts had been arranged, with the young and charming in the front. They were like the host of the god of love, surging forth to sport in the ocean.
Swiftly they arrived at the famed monastery named Bodhicitta Atiśuddha. The beauty of the offerings was prepared, the splendor of the divine worship was irresistible. The fivefold offering was complete, immeasurable, awaiting all the sacrificial implements. There, it is said, Pūrṇavijaya performed his worship, followed by the host of gods.

Canto 33

(Mālinī: ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | ~ - - | ~ - =)

There someone blew a kāla horn, and a pair of śaṅkha conches Thundered, clashing together with bheri drums and mṛdaṅga. The murava, paḍahi, boñjiṅ, and the great, resonant muṇḍa, Their sound, together with the vindā drum, was a surge of sweet melody.
And adding to the beauty were the apsaras and celestial women, Displaying their skill in dance, graceful in their movements. The throng of soldiers played many instruments, their sound a roar, Creating a sublime beauty that brought joy to the heart.
Swiftly, with a coaxing air, the kinnaras performed their jesting dance. The two of them, matched in skill, were nimble in their comic steps. As if in thrilling delight, they found a mood of laughter. Their movements were truly masterful, the work of one who knows no clumsiness.
Immeasurable were the songs of the gods and celestial women. All of them were pleasing, hymns of praise and divine worship. There were those who recited verses of homage, with beautiful, clear pronunciation, Their rhythm of long and short syllables perfectly in time with the cymbals and lute.
The one at the back, playing the flute, was slender and without peer. He looked as if he were carved, his waist slender and arched. His boastful tune was a match for the clear tone of the ivory flute: "Who is greater than I?" was the gesture of his proud mind.
The one who had finished dancing was of flawless, youthful body, Followed from behind, with many jesters at the rear. He was chosen as the winner in a contest of beauty from the world of Kāma. His beauty, moreover, was a match for the beauty of the queen.
Now, while the sounds of all the offerings blended together, They were heard with great clarity in the shining world of heaven. The hearts of the host of gods were joyful, eager to listen, Marveling at the performance, desiring to witness the beauty.
Yama, Varuṇa, Kubera, and the great lord Indra, chief among them, All came, together with the host of divine sages. As if summoned, they arrived swiftly at the Bodhicitta monastery, Prostrate, all paying homage with reverence at the feet of the lord of Jinas.

Canto 34

(Śārdūlavikrīḍita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | - - ~ | - - ~ | =)

There the god Yama spoke, bowing at the feet of the glorious Śākya Lion King: "Lord God, what is the reason that Pūrṇavijaya's sins have vanished so quickly? For long ago, your child, the Lord, heard the words of the host of gods, That he would be long in the cauldron, it was said, and on the plain of the iron earth."
"And what is the cause, the truth of his being in the world long ago, that led to his sin, And the reason he became a celestial king, though his defilements had not yet vanished?" Such was the question of the god Antaka, the lord of death. There the Lord God spoke: "Heed my words, all you gods, listen carefully."
"There was long ago in the world of mortals a land where people were ever praised, Famed in the world, its name was Bhūmimaṇḍala, fertile, prosperous, and beautiful. There lived a rich man named Mūladhara, possessed of gold and jewels. His beloved was beautiful, named Sumaliṇī, exceedingly devoted to her husband."
"But he was wicked, taking whatever he wished, the wives and property of other men. He was full of anger, contempt, baseness, false words, slander, and thievery. He committed acts of violence against the old and against the company of scholars. All that is considered the lowest of actions, in his mind was the highest, in his drunken foolishness."
"Yet he it was who created a beautiful work of merit on the edge of a great, lovely road. It was splendid, for there was a hall of charity with abundant fruit, rice-wine, cooked rice, and syrup. And he gave gifts of gold, gems, silver, cloth, garments, and cattle. Let us pass over his offerings; they were made to the holy dharma, and he achieved release."
"There was, moreover, a poor man named Utsāhadharma, who was steadfast. His beloved was named Sudharmika, pure, knowing, and devoted to her husband. Content and serene of mind were the couple, their wish was for the dharma, their faith in guests was great. Their livelihood was from gathering vegetables and greens, which they obtained in the proper way."
"This, it is said, is what they gave, accompanied by a joyful and serene heart, Thinking of the travelers on the road who came to rest there in their lovely home. Moreover, their courtyard was beautiful, clean, and well-tended, with flowering plants spreading everywhere. There, next to their rest-house, was another inside, next to the pavilion."
"By chance, this dwelling was next to the meritorious foundation of Mūladhara, near the road. This was the cause of Mūladhara's unhappiness with Utsāhadharma's good work. In anger, he drove away the poor man who followed the dharma-minded way in the world. He departed quietly after this, the piteous couple taking their leave."

Canto 35

(Basantatilaka: - - ~ | - ~ ~ | ~ - ~ | ~ - ~ | - =)

There was a precious, fruitful mountain, divine and beautiful. There they made their hermitage, near the path. Steadfast vows, worship, and meditation they held to always, And combined this with merit done for the sake of others.
At the end of their lives, they died together with their loves. The sign of their release was that they created a radiance. Their goal was mokṣa, release into the supreme world-sphere, But their external merit bound them, causing them to return.
There, when he was embodied, he became the god Indra. His beloved was his queen, named the goddess Śacī. He was established in Indra's heaven as king of the gods. Utsāhadharma set the pattern for the birth of a man.
Thus Mūladhara died, together with his beloved. Truly, he became Pūrṇavijaya, the equal of the god Indra, For the fruit of his merit was to imitate a work of charity and giving. His beloved of long ago is this Gandhavatī now.
But his evil deeds clung to him, bringing him misfortune. That is the reason he suffered from leprosy, experiencing his sin. There was a friend of his named Karṇagotra, A craftsman of his, who undertook austerities long ago.
He it was who became the ascetic yakṣa, Kuñjarakarṇa. He came to me and heard the true, supreme dharma. He was pleased to grasp my teaching of the dharma. He returned to his austerities, and his end will be mokṣa.
And as for Pūrṇavijaya, this is my timely instruction: The reason he will not be long held in the Avīci hell Is that his limit in hell is nine nights, no more, complete. Such is the fruit of his hearing my teaching of the dharma.

Canto 36

(Toṭaka: ~ ~ - | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ =)

That is the reason, all you excellent gods, You must hold to the supreme dharma, for its power is divine. It removes defilement and sin from Yama's realm, And is the path to the highest state of mokṣa.
If a human child is wise, Fortunate, of good signs, and becomes a monk, And holds always to serving the Lord God, He will easily find the perfect release.
Thus were the words of the Lord Jina. All the gods bowed in deep reverence. Having taken their leave, they returned home. The celestial king and the divine sages went back together.

Canto 37

(Vīralalita = Jagatpramudita: - ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | =)

After the host of gods had returned to the celestial realm, There the celestial king, Pūrṇavijaya, approached again. In devotion he paid homage, asking about the specifics of vows and austerities, And the proper fruit of all the acts of giving and merit performed.
The Lord's words instructed the king of the celestial apsaras: "Lesser is the fruit of all external works of merit and charity. Heaven is their fruit; they do not find mokṣa, the pure abode. It is not like the result of the difficult vows and austerities one holds to."
"There is an internal merit whose goal is the attainment of mokṣa. Merit from giving, merit from virtue, and merit from contemplation are superior. These are the three kinds of merit that are proper to perform. Your intention should be to offer them to the Three Jewels as a refuge."

Canto 38

(Śārdūlavikrīḍita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | - - ~ | - - ~ | =)

And the four kinds of giving are offered as the highest merit in the world. Flowers, young leaves, vegetables, wood, salt, water, food, whatever there is, It is proper to give to those who desire it, with words of serenity and a generous heart. This is āmiṣadāna, the first, know it as one of the four kinds of giving.
If protection is the wish of one who is afraid on the road, at home, or in battle, From his great fear that he will be overcome by a wicked and most terrible enemy, It is proper to protect him, strive truly and be mindful of his safety. This is the merit of abhayadāna, to be performed by the brave, wise, and excellent hero.
If a person is blind with ignorance, no different from darkness in the night, And knows no way, but wishes to know the proper path of what to reject and accept, It is proper to teach him the beneficial meaning, the right path of the dharma and the highest truths. This, then, is called the supreme dharmadāna by the great scholars.
This is the purpose of maitrīdāna: the yoga of constant love for the world. Hold to the radiant, pure wisdom in all states of natural being. All beings, shining and good, animals together with gods, Are freed from all defilements, released, and find the heaven of enlightenment, which brings bliss.

Canto 39

(Vīralalita = Jagatpramudita: - ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | =)

"Such, then, is the union of the means of good merit. But, my lord, may the Lord God continue to speak further. Of the many ways of holding to vows and austerities, which is the best to follow As a vehicle to reach the realm of the Jinas, to seek release?"
"Om, my son, strive to seek the path that finds the highest state, For it is incomparable, supreme, special, and truly leads to release. If you follow it, your actions will not be reversed or fruitless. There will be no sorrow, obstacle, or fear; there will be only bliss."
"The good dharma is like a lake you create through your austerities. Pure wisdom is its water, it is said, cool and clear. The feeling of non-duality is its spring from which nectar flows. The practice of the Brahma-vihāras is its firm banks."
"Let your beneficial vows be the ducks that swim upon it. Their beauty is clear when your chanting is its lotus flowers. The pleasing mantras are the sound of its bees that are heard. This lotus pond of the good dharma is the sacred means of release."
"Guard your pure mind alone; keep it in all your vows. The purity of your three bodies—body, speech, and mind—is the highest truth to be kept secret. Extend your peace and reverence to all beings. Its purpose is to clear the way for the good path of release."
"This is my teaching; obey it and undertake it. As long as you follow my firm scripture, my son, You will have no fear, no enemy will dare to approach you. Thus the mokṣa you seek will be successfully attained."
"Do not torture yourself when you practice vows, lest it be in vain. Look at the people in the land who practice austerities in the mountains and forests. Their bodies are weary, they mortify themselves in their practice of vows and austerities. Heaven is what they seek; their power brings them that and nothing else."
"If they find supreme power in the middle world in a future life, Power and glory are merely the hermitage for their austerities. The suffering of the world is like an ocean, it is found to be no different. Its breadth is without limit, its depth is what one must swim across."
"Sickness is the waves of the ocean, sorrow and conflict are its reefs. The host of passions that surge and seethe are like its currents. The death of beings is the swift flood of its waters that flow on. The soul drowns and reaches Yama's realm if it is heedless in its actions."
"The truth of the god Īśvara is that he is like a hunter who seizes his prey. His dogs are old age, which runs swiftly, and maturity, which ensures capture. Sickness, sorrow, disease, and humiliation are his army. His arrows are his weapons that kill all living beings."
"Worldly success is the name for austerities that are not joined with release. Moreover, there are many kinds, all with different characteristics. Any mind that is entered by good or evil actions, That is the lowest form of wrong action, which binds one again."
"Merit done for the sake of others, the dharma that creates happiness for other people, If it is without expectation of reward, that is its proper form. The wise, virtuous, and powerful one has a serene and firm heart. That is the middle path, which seeks the three-eyed god."
"Such were the words of the Lord of Six Knowledges, his sermon on the dharma. Pūrṇavijaya became ever more intent on the highest state. This was the reason he sought to practice austerities on the snowy Mount Semeru, And the lady Gandhavatī sought to practice austerities, following her beloved."

Canto 40

(Girīśa: ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - - - | - - ~ | ~ ~ ~ | =)

After he had paid homage to the glorious Śākyamuni, lord of gods, He came forth, escorted by the entire host of celestial soldiers who followed. His heart was joyful and at ease, for his vow was fulfilled. His new state was none other than the success of his journey to become an ascetic.
He felt it would be better to proceed directly to the mountain, Lest he arrive in Indra's heaven and be delayed from setting out on his ascetic path. He was held back by his long delay, bound by the sensory pleasures of the past. He grew more resolute in cutting the great bond of desire that held him.
The reason he stopped was a lovely, pleasant resting place where they had gathered. There was a long field, which was the place where he was attended. It was beautifully arranged, a lotus-seat was prepared for him. There he spoke, to arouse the pity of those who served him.
"Forgive my words, all you of the gandharva army. I am now taking my leave for the mountains, to seek the life of an ascetic. Return now to the abode of heaven, go back. For my situation is like that of a king who has borrowed an army."
"If there is a celestial king in the future who will replace me as the one you serve, May the ocean dry up if I now speak falsely to you. The difficulty of following the heart of one's lord is to please him. Practice true, firm devotion and obedience in your actions."
At once, the entire host of celestial soldiers bowed in homage. The beautiful gandharva maidens also came forward in reverence. How much more the sorrow of the beloveds, all those who would inherit his longing. There were those who wept at the feet of the glorious gandharva king, clinging to him.

Canto 41

(Jagaddhita: - - - | ~ ~ - | ~ - ~ | ~ ~ - | ~ ~ ~ | ~ ~ ~ | - ~ - | ~ =)

It would be too long to tell of the sorrow of the host of apsaras and the celestial women. The glorious vidyādhara king had cut off his passion, making his firm vows the reason. That was why he went straight away, departing to practice austerities, his beloved his inspiration. Already his way of holding to the great vows of the Mahāyāna showed the signs of perfection.
The host of celestial apsaras and the divine women returned to the world of the gods, Filled with sorrow and grief, for Pūrṇavijaya was no longer to be served in the celestial abode. For it is difficult to find a lord who loves his followers like him who had now departed, Who knew the proper conduct, and always brought forth virtue in those who had none.
Especially the state of the apsarīs, all of whom felt indebted for the pleasures they had shared. Their minds were stunned, lost, when they remembered the celestial king’s actions in the past. Arriving home, they gave themselves over to their pain, trying to console it, but what could console it? They could only gaze at every feature of the beloved who had left them, veiling their faces.
Their minds were confused, for a mental image seizes upon whatever can be its screen. Whatever form is seen becomes an image in the mind, following it, creating a memory. So too, it is said, are the words that are heard, becoming an image in the mind. The yogi destroys memory and thought, for they are the barrier to mokṣa.
It would be too much to tell of all the celestial women, every one of them filled with sorrow. Some tried to distract themselves, wandering sadly in the gardens to soothe the ache of their pain. There was, it is said, a poem by the celestial king, left behind in that beautiful hall. This is what one of them read, and as she did, she imagined him speaking with his beloved.

"My lady, you who embody the company of the longing, a friend in passion, a companion in love, You, my comrade, my family, whose glance mixed with a smile is the fruit of a heart’s delight. Alone, I bind this lament to a pandanus flower, to sweeten the passion of our love. My goal is to meet with you, firm in our shared refuge, as close as siblings on a single mat.

In future lives I will not be parted from you; if you become a flower in a garden, my little sister, And if you are a lotus, my love, I shall become the lake, clear and flawless, for your bathing. My purpose is to be the choice of a maiden, if I am to be made, but only if purity is its aim. When your time comes to be taken by force, may your brother be deep within you, your protector.

If you become an asana tree, my dear, I will become the cloud that approaches bringing rain. Enjoy my love, which becomes a drizzle; if it thunders, it is to greet the seeds of your longing. Let me see the joy of my love in full blossom, that you may know my passion. And as a bee, I will never cease to approach your beauty, to be remembered by my kisses."

Such was the song of the departed one that she read, over and over, reading it aloud. The heart of the celestial woman was pained, crushed, as if she had lost her very soul. Her pain could no longer be held back, like a fire consuming blazing straw. Her cries were piteous as she repeatedly wiped her tears, forgetting that her sarong was slipping.
"Ah, you rogue in our bed, why were you not afraid of the supreme weapon of the god of love? There, the battle-line of my sharp eyebrows flashed from the corner of my eye, just for you. It was no trouble for the spear of my breasts to pierce your chest, my brother, you who praise firm vows! What a pity that my precious beauty was taken, without mercy, you who have betrayed me!
You have gone, leaving me far behind, I who would make our loving words one. It was sweet long ago, witnessed by the god of love, a blessing in the heart to die in our union. Your words were a lie as you spoke, sucking my lips, so utterly, deeply deceitful. My only curse is that the god of love himself be the one to punish you, and bring you back to me.
My heart overflows, my love, silent in the night; at last I will make an offering, steadfastly worshipping. My offering on this bed of flowers is the contents of my hair-knot, perfumed with the scent of my face-powder. Scattered flowers, fragrant powders, perfumes, my loosened sarong, my ointments... My form, my appearance, all that I hold, I have offered to you, a sacrifice in the night, hoping you would come."
Such was the lament of the apsarī, overcome with the pain of passion, left behind by her beloved. It was as if no celestial king could ever be served again; their minds were all stunned and lost. They did not know the decree of fate: that in the hermitage lay the fruit of merit in the world. Clearly, the abode of the gods and the celestial women are the property of one who practices the good dharma.
Such is the end of the story. Pūrṇavijaya has performed his vows and austerities there on the divine, excellent Mount Meru, together with his beloved, firm in the Mahāyāna. Kuñjarakarṇa has already achieved perfection, released at the feet of the Jina, finding mokṣa. Then, it is said, the excellent Pūrṇavijaya was also released; he achieved mokṣa together with his beloved.
This is the Kuñjarakarṇadharmakathana; may it be forgiven by those who hear it. It is not at all complete, lacking in aesthetic delight, the work of Mpu Dusun, who brings forth only simple speech. An offering of flowers at the feet of the poets, may it please them, may it be approved. And also his love for the persevering ones who teach the ways of the poet.
Useless is this performance to please the ear; truly it is just a pastime to while away the hours. Even if it is flawed and full of holes, may I find a poet as a companion in composing. My purpose is not to be lost in deceit, but to take refuge in the supreme state that creates good. May my mind be deemed perfected and beautiful, following the other poets, my friends in this worthy effort.