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OLD AGE [1] Why this laughter? Why this merriment? When there is always this fire that consumes you are enveloped by darkness and you do not seek the light. [2] Look at this decorated image, the body full of sores, a heaped mass, diseased, full of vagaries with no stable status. [3] This form is decrepit, given to diseases, a mass of corruption, it breaks up – life ends in death. [4] What lure can there be at
the sight of these bones white as dovefeather, that are thrown away like gourds
in autumn.
Page – 217 [5] A fortress has been made of bones and it is plastered with flesh and blood. Age and Death, pride and deceit are installed there. [6] Even the gaudy regal chariots wear out. Age reaches the body too. But Truth and Righteousness do not age; they are passed on from sage to sage. [7] A man with little knowledge grows old like an ox. His flesh increases, his intelligence does not. [8] The cycle of numberless births have I entered and I have not found the builder of this house, even though I have been out in search of him. The cycle of births is a misery! [9] I have found Thee, O Maker of the house! Thou wilt not build me a house again. All the beams are broken, the topdome has toppled down. The mind is freed of all its obscure innate movements: desires have ended. [10] If you have not led a life of self-control, if you have not acquired wealth in your youth, you will perish like an old heron in a pond emptied of fish. [11] If you have not led a life
of self-control, if you have not acquired wealth in your youth, you will lie
like a worn out bow lamenting over the past.
Page – 218
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