The Dart
A poem on grief and mortality. It opens by saying the length of life is unknown, that all who are born will die, and compares mortals to ripe fruit that must fall and clay pots that must break. Death takes young and old, foolish and wise, and no relative can protect another from it. The poem then turns to mourning: weeping and wailing do not bring peace of heart; they add suffering, wear down the body, and do nothing for the dead. One who sees this pulls out the dart of grief, as the wind blows away a tuft of cotton, and finds peace of mind.
A note on this text. A frank poem about death and the futility of lamentation. Some lines are stark (“like a cow to the slaughter”), one speaks of beings passing on “according to their deeds,” and it may be hard reading in fresh grief.
The full text
Anthology of Discourses 3.8 · The Dart · translated by Bhikkhu Sujato · public domain (CC0) · about 2 min · on SuttaCentral
Unforeseen and unknownis the extent of this mortal life—hard and shortand bound to pain.
There is no way thatthose born will not die.On reaching old age death follows:such is the nature of living creatures.
As ripe fruitare always in danger of falling,so mortals once bornare always in danger of death.
As clay potsmade by a potterall end up being broken,so is the life of mortals.
Young and old,foolish and wise—all go under the sway of death;all are destined to die.
When those overcome by deathleave this world for the next,a father cannot protect his son,nor relatives their kin.
See how, while relatives look on,wailing profusely,mortals are led away one by one,like a cow to the slaughter.
And so the world is strickenby old age and by death.That is why the attentive do not grieve,for they understand the way of the world.
For one whose path you do not know—not whence they came nor where they went—you lament in vain,seeing neither end.
If a bewildered person,lamenting and self-harming,could extract any good from that,then those who see clearly would do the same.
For not by weeping and wailingwill you find peace of heart.It just gives rise to more suffering,and distresses your body.
Growing thin and pale,you hurt yourself.It does nothing to help the dead:your lamentation is in vain.
Unless a personage gives up grief,they fall into suffering all the more.Bewailing those whose time has come,you fall under the sway of grief.
See, too, other folk departing,passing on according to their deeds;fallen under the sway of death,beings flounder while still here.
For however they imagine it,it turns out to be something else.Such is separation:see the way of the world!
Even if a human livesa hundred years or more,they are parted from their family circle,they leave this life behind.
Therefore, having learned from the Perfected One,dispel lamentation.Seeing the dead and departed, think:“I cannot escape this.”
As one would extinguisha blazing refuge with water,so too an attentive one—a wise,astute, and skilled person—would swiftly blow away grief that comes up,like the wind a tuft of cotton.
One who seeks their own happinesswould pluck out the dart from themselves—the wailing and praying,and sadness inside.
With dart plucked out, unattached,having found peace of mind,overcoming all sorrow,one is sorrowless and quenched.