Reading guide
A fixed pattern, repeated eighteen times over
Each verse follows the identical structure: a simile for how a body part once looked — hair ‘as black as bees’, eyes ‘brilliant as gems’, a neck ‘like a polished shell of conch’ — followed immediately by what age has made of it, then the same closing line.
A refrain that turns lament into confirmation
‘The word of the truthful one is confirmed’ closes all nineteen verses without variation — not simply mourning what is lost, but treating each specific change as living evidence that the Buddha's teaching on impermanence holds true.
Precision over generality, verse after verse
The similes for decay are exact, not vague: hair ‘like hemp bark’, a nose ‘shriveled like a pepper’, hands ‘like red radishes’, calves ‘like sesame sticks’ — each comparison specific enough to picture exactly.
A story this verse itself does not tell
Ambapālī's donation of her mango grove to the Buddha, later the site of some of his final teaching before his passing, belongs to the wider canonical narrative tradition — this poem itself narrates none of it, only the body examined, part by part, in old age.
Key terms
The text
§1My hair was as black as bees, graced with curly tips; now old, it has become like hemp bark—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§2Crowned with flowers, my head was as fragrant as a perfume box; now old, it smells like dog fur—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§3My hair was as thick as a well-planted forest, it shone, parted with brush and pins; now old, it’s patchy and sparse—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§4With plaits of black and ribbons of gold, it was so pretty, adorned with braids; now old, my head’s gone bald—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§5My eyebrows used to look so nice, like crescents painted by an artist; now old, they droop with wrinkles—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§6My eyes shone brilliant as gems, wide and indigo; ruined by age, they shine no more—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§7My nose was like a perfect peak, lovely in my bloom of youth; now old, it’s shriveled like a pepper; the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§8My ear-lobes were so pretty, like lovingly crafted bracelets; now old, they droop with wrinkles—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§9My teeth used to be so pretty, bright as a jasmine flower; now old, they’re broken and yellow—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§10My singing was sweet as a cuckoo wandering in the forest groves; now old, it’s patchy and croaking—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§11My neck used to be so pretty, like a polished shell of conch; now old, it’s bowed and bent—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§12My arms used to be so pretty, like rounded cross-bars; with age, they wrinkle and sag as a patala tree—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§13My hands used to be so pretty, adorned with lovely golden rings; now old, they’re like red radishes—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§14My breasts were both once so pretty, swelling, round, close-set, and perky; now they droop like water bags—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§15My body used to be so pretty, like a polished slab of lustrous gold; now it’s covered with delicate wrinkles—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§16Both my thighs used to be so pretty, like an elephant’s trunk; now old, they’re like bamboo—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§17My calves used to be so pretty, adorned with cute golden anklets; now old, they’re like sesame sticks—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§18Both my feet used to be so pretty, plump as if with cotton-wool; now old, they’re cracked and wrinkly—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
§19This bag of bones once was such, but now it’s withered, home to so much pain; like a house in decay with plaster crumbling—the word of the truthful one is confirmed.
Self-check quiz
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