The mind quivers and shakes,
hard to guard, hard to curb.
The discerning straighten it out,
like a fletcher straightens an arrow.
Like a fish pulled from the sea
and cast upon the shore,
this mind flounders about,
trying to throw off Māra’s dominion.
Hard to hold back, flighty,
alighting where it will;
it’s good to tame the mind;
a tamed mind leads to bliss.
So hard to see, so subtle,
alighting where it will;
the discerning protect the mind,
a guarded mind leads to bliss.
The mind travels far, wandering alone;
incorporeal, it lies hidden in the heart.
Those who will restrain the mind
are freed from Māra’s bonds.
Those of unsteady mind,
who don’t understand the true teaching,
and whose confidence wavers,
do not perfect their wisdom.
One whose mind is not festering,
whose heart is undamaged,
who’s given up right and wrong,
alert, has nothing to fear.
Knowing this body breaks like a pot,
and fortifying the mind like a citadel,
attack Māra with the sword of wisdom,
guard your conquest, and never settle.
All too soon this body
will lie upon the earth,
bereft of consciousness,
tossed aside like a worthless log.
A wrongly directed mind
would do you more harm
than a hater to the hated,
or an enemy to their foe.
A rightly directed mind
would do you more good
than your mother or father
or any other relative.