Vāseṭṭhī

Struck down with grief for my son,
deranged, out of my mind,
naked, my hair flying,
I wandered here and there.

I lived on rubbish heaps,
in cemeteries and highways.
For three years I wandered,
stricken by hunger and thirst.

Then I saw the Holy One,
who had gone to the city of Mithilā.
Tamer of the untamed,
the Awakened One fears nothing from any quarter.

Regaining my mind,
I paid homage and sat down.
Out of compassion
Gotama taught me the Dhamma.

After hearing his teaching,
I went forth to homelessness.
Applying myself to the Teacher’s words,
I realized the state of grace.

All sorrows are cut off,
given up, they end here.
I've fully understood the basis
from which grief comes to be.