I was a farmer at that time
on the banks of River Indus.
Bound in service to another,
I looked not for that other’s rice.

Wandering along the Indus,
I saw Siddhattha, the Victor,
sitting down in meditation
like a lotus flower in bloom.

I having cut off all the stems
of seven plantain flowers then,
did spread them out upon the head
of Buddha, Kinsman of the Sun.

Attentive to the protocol,
back then after I had approached
the Golden-Colored Sambuddha,
Wise One, With Senses Well-Controlled,
-- Hard to Approach like a tusker,
a mātaṇga in three-fold rut—
having pressed my hands together
I worshipped Buddha, the Teacher.

In the ninety-four aeons since
I did pūjā with that flower,
I’ve come to know no bad rebirth:
that’s the fruit of Buddha-pūjā.

The four analytical modes,
and these eight deliverances,
six special knowledges mastered,
I have done what the Buddha taught!

Thus indeed Venerable Kandalīpupphiya Thera spoke these verses.

The legend of Kandalīpupphiya Thera is finished.