Chapter One

Bhaddiya has plucked out craving, root and all,

and in a jungle thicket

on the far side of the Wild Mango Monastery,

he practices absorption; he is truly well-favored.

Some delight in clay drums,

in arched harps, and in cymbals.

But here, at the foot of a tree,

I delight in the Buddha’s teaching.

If the Buddha were to grant me one wish,

and I were to get what I wished for,

I’d choose for the whole world

constant mindfulness of the body.

Those who’ve judged me on appearance, ^[1]

and those swayed by my voice,

are full of desire and greed;

they don’t know me.

Not knowing what’s inside,

nor seeing what’s outside,

the fool shut in on every side,

gets carried away by a voice.

Not knowing what’s inside,

but discerning what’s outside,

seeing the fruit outside,

they’re also carried away by a voice.

Understanding what’s inside,

and discerning what’s outside,

of unhindered vision,

they don’t get carried away by a voice.