Thig 6.2

Vāseṭṭhītherīgāthā

“Puttasokenahaṁ aṭṭā, khittacittā visaññinī; Naggā pakiṇṇakesī ca, tena tena vicārihaṁ.

Vāseṭṭhī

Struck down with grief for my son, deranged, out of my mind, nude, my hair flying, I wandered here and there.

Vīthi saṅkārakūṭesu, susāne rathiyāsu ca; Acariṁ tīṇi vassāni, khuppipāsāsamappitā.

I lived on rubbish heaps, in cemeteries and highways. For three years I wandered, stricken by hunger and thirst.

Athaddasāsiṁ sugataṁ, nagaraṁ mithilaṁ pati; Adantānaṁ dametāraṁ, sambuddhamakutobhayaṁ.

Then I saw the Holy One back at the city of Mithilā. Tamer of the untamed, the Awakened One fears nothing from any quarter.

Sacittaṁ paṭiladdhāna, vanditvāna upāvisiṁ; So me dhammamadesesi, anukampāya gotamo.

Regaining my mind, I paid homage and sat down. Out of compassion Gotama taught me the Dhamma.

Tassa dhammaṁ suṇitvāna, pabbajiṁ anagāriyaṁ; Yuñjantī satthuvacane, sacchākāsiṁ padaṁ sivaṁ.

After hearing his teaching, I went forth to homelessness. Applying myself to the Teacher’s words, I realized the state of grace.

Sabbe sokā samucchinnā, pahīnā etadantikā; Pariññātā hi me vatthū, yato sokāna sambhavo”ti.

All sorrows are cut off, given up, they end here. I’ve fully understood the basis from which grief comes to be.