In the past, in a forest grove,
I was a man who hunted deer.
There I saw Sambuddha Tissa
bearing the marks of a Great Man.

Pressing hands together for him,
sitting down in that neighborhood
on a leaf-mat that was placed there,
I then set off facing the east.

Just then a fallen lightening bolt
landed on the top of my head.
Again, as I lay there dying,
I pressed both my hands together.

In the ninety-two aeons since
I pressed my hands together then,
I’ve come to know no bad rebirth:
that’s the fruit of pressing my hands.

Four and fifty aeons ago
the monarch named Migaketu
was a wheel-turner with great strength,
possessor of the seven gems.

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

Thus indeed Venerable Ṭhitañjaliya Thera spoke these verses.

The legend of Ṭhitañjaliya Thera is finished.