"
The prince, greatly agitated and moved, asked his charioteer another
question and said, "Is yonder man the only one afflicted with age, or
shall I, and others also, be such as he?" The charioteer again replied
and said, "Your highness also inherits this lot: as time goes on, the
form itself is changed, and this must doubtless come, beyond all
hindrance. The youthful form must wear the garb of age, throughout the
world, this is the common lot."
Bodhisattva, who had long prepared the foundation of pure and spotless
wisdom, broadly setting the root of every high quality, with a view to
gather large fruit in his present life, hearing these words respecting
the sorrow of age, was afflicted in mind, and his hair stood upright.
Just as the roll of the thunder and the storm alarm and put to flight
the cattle, so was Bodhisattva affected by the words; shaking with
apprehension, he deeply sighed; constrained at heart because of the pain
of age; with shaking head and constant gaze, he thought upon this misery
of decay; what joy or pleasure can men take, he thought, in that which
soon must wither, stricken by the marks of age; affecting all without
exception; though gifted now with youth and strength, yet not one but
soon must change and pine away. The eye beholding such signs as these
before it, how can it not be oppressed by a desire to escape?
Bodhisattva then addressed his charioteer: "Quickly turn your chariot
and go back.
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