“How was I once puff’d up, incens’d with the bloom of my beauty,
Vain of my perfect form, my fame and success ’midst the people,
Fill’d with the pride of my youth, unknowing the Truth and unheeding!
Lo! I made my body, bravely arrayed, deftly painted,
Speak for me to the lads, whilst I at the door of the harlot
Stood, like a crafty hunter, weaving his snares, ever watchful.
Yea, I bared without shame my body and wealth of adorning;
Manifold wiles I wrought, devouring the virtue of many.
To-day with shaven head, wrapt in my robe,
I go forth on my daily round for food;
And ’neath the spreading boughs of forest tree
I sit, and Second-Jhana’s rapture win,
Where reas’nings cease, and joy and ease remain.
Now all the evil bonds that fetter gods
And men are wholly rent and cut away.
Purg’d are the Āsavas that drugg’d my heart,
Calm and content I know Nibbana’s Peace.”