“Then again when I was
a matted-hair ascetic of severe penance,
Mātaṅga was my name,
I was virtuous and serene.
A brahmin and I both lived
on a bank of the Ganges.
I stayed upstream,
the brahmin downstream.
Wandering along the riverbank,
he saw my hermitage upstream.
Then he abused and cursed me,
that my head would split in seven.
If I were upset with him
and if I were not taking care of my ethics,
then just with a glance
I could have reduced him to ashes.
But when he cursed me then,
so angry and bitter-hearted,
it fell right back on his own head:
I freed him from that yoke.
I guarded my ethics,
not my life.
For then I was ethical,
because it was solely for awakening.”