Therīgāthā
Canto 2
5. Cittā
“Though I be suffering and weak, and all
My youthful spring be gone, yet have I climbed,
Leaning upon my staff, the mountain crest.Thrown from my shoulder hangs my cloak, o’erturned
My little bowl. So ’gainst the rock I lean
And prop this self of me, and break away
The wildering gloom that long had closed me in.”