Having applied himself to what was not his own task, and not having applied himself to what was,

having disregarded the goal to grasp at what he held dear, he now envies those who kept after themselves, took themselves to task.

Don’t ever—regardless— be conjoined with what’s dear or undear.

It’s painful not to see what’s dear or to see what’s not.

So don’t make anything dear, for it’s dreadful to be far from what’s dear.

No bonds are found for those for whom there’s neither dear nor undear.

From what’s dear is born grief, from what’s dear is born fear.

For one freed from what’s dear there’s no grief —so how fear?

From what’s loved is born grief, from what’s loved is born fear.

For one freed from what’s loved there’s no grief —so how fear?

From delight is born grief, from delight is born fear.

For one freed from delight there’s no grief —so how fear?

From sensuality is born grief, from sensuality is born fear.

For one freed from sensuality there’s no grief —so how fear?

From craving is born grief, from craving is born fear.

For one freed from craving there’s no grief —so how fear?

One consummate in virtue & vision, judicious, speaking the truth,

doing his own task: the world holds him dear.

If you’ve given birth to a wish for what can’t be expressed, are suffused with heart,

your mind not enmeshed in sensual passions: you’re said to be in the up-flowing stream.

A man long absent comes home safe from afar.

His kin, his friends, his companions, delight in his return.

In just the same way, when you’ve done good & gone from this world to the world beyond,

your good deeds receive you— as kin, someone dear come home.

Piyavaggo soḷasamo niṭṭhito.