Reading guide
A two-part poem: extended drama, then a compact declaration
At 306 segments, this is by far the longest poem in the Therīgāthā — the entire book named for it, the Mahānipāta or ‘Great Book’, consists of this single poem. Its first three-quarters unfold as an extended narrative drama: Sumedhā's exchange with her parents, then with her betrothed, in verse. Its final section compresses an entirely different scale of time into a few verses: an account of her own past lives, reaching back to a Buddha who lived long before the historical Buddha Gotama.
An escalating double refusal, staged with dramatic timing
Sumedhā's parents refuse her request to ordain and instead reveal she is already betrothed to King Anīkaratta; she refuses marriage outright, threatening to starve rather than comply. As she finishes making her case to her father, the poem cuts directly to Anīkaratta's arrival for the wedding — and while he climbs the stairs to find her, Sumedhā has shut herself in alone, cut off her own hair, and entered deep absorption. He arrives to find her already gone from him in every sense but the physical, and pleads with her in nearly the same language her parents used, about royal wealth and youth. She answers him with the same teaching, extended even further.
A word Sumedhā favors, almost nowhere else in early Pali
Sujato's notes flag Sumedhā's own signature vocabulary: she uses the term bhavagata, ‘state of life’, seven times across this one poem — a term otherwise essentially unattested in early Pali literature, found, per Sujato, only once elsewhere, in the much later Peṭakopadesa. Whether this reflects an individual voice preserved across centuries of oral transmission, or simply this poem's own stylistic habit, the repetition is unusual enough that the collection's own translator thought it worth flagging.
Teaching through catalogues: body, pleasure, and the scale of transmigration
Sumedhā's persuasion leans on accumulation rather than a single argument. Refusing marriage, she itemizes the body's foulness — a carcass smeared with flesh and blood, oozing filth, food for birds and worms — a passage that echoes a simile at SN 22.95 per Sujato's note. Refusing Anīkaratta, she strings together more than a dozen similes for sensual pleasure in succession: a snake's head, a butcher's block, a firebrand, a skeleton, a hot iron ball, borrowed goods, a pit of coals, a grass torch, a hound on a chain, a catfish on a hook. And teaching her parents the scale of saṃsāra, she reaches for cosmic measures: oceans of tears, milk, and blood larger than the four oceans combined; bones piled higher than Mount Vipula; and the canon's own image for how rare a human rebirth is — a blind turtle in a vast ocean, surfacing once a century, happening to put its head through the single hole in a floating yoke.
A closing declaration, and a colophon that closes far more than one poem
Sumedhā's final words shift from teaching to testimony: on her deathbed she recounts a shared gift of a newly-built dwelling to the Saṅgha, given together with two friends in the time of a Buddha who lived ages before Gotama, Koṇāgamana — a single act of generosity she traces forward through thousands of rebirths among the gods, a life as queen with the seven treasures, and finally this life's meeting with the teaching and its result. The Pali text's closing lines then mark two endings at once: ‘the Great Book is finished’, followed by an untranslated tally verse recording that this collection holds four hundred and seventy-four verses spoken by one hundred and one senior nuns, all of whom attained the ending of the defilements — and finally, ‘the text of the Verses of the Senior Nuns is finished’. Sumedhā's poem does not just close the Great Book; in the Pali text itself, it closes the entire Therīgāthā.
Key terms
The text
§1In Mantāvatī city, Sumedhā, the daughter of King Koñca’s chief queen, was converted by those who practice the Buddha’s teaching. She was virtuous, a brilliant speaker, learned, and trained in the Buddha’s instructions. She went up to her mother and father and said: “Pay heed, both of you!
§2I delight in extinguishment! No state of life is eternal, not even that of the gods; what then of sensual pleasures, so hollow, offering little gratification and much distress. Sensual pleasures are bitter as the venom of a snake, yet fools are infatuated by them. Sent to hell for a very long time, they are beaten and tortured. Those who grow in wickedness ever lament in the underworld due to their own bad deeds. They’re fools, unrestrained in body, mind, and speech. Those witless, senseless fools, trapped by the origin of suffering, are ignorant, not understanding the noble truths when they are being taught. Most people, mum, ignorant of the truths taught by the excellent Buddha, look forward to a state of life, longing for rebirth among the gods. Yet even rebirth among the gods in an impermanent state of life is not eternal. But fools are not scared of being reborn time and again. Four lower realms and two other realms may be gained somehow or other. But for those who end up in a lower realm, there is no way to go forth in the hells.
§3May you both grant me permission to go forth in the dispensation of him of the ten powers. Living at ease, I shall apply myself to giving up rebirth and death. Why look forward to a new state of life in this useless, insubstantial body? Grant me permission, I shall go forth to make an end of craving for a new life. A Buddha has arisen, the time has come, the unlucky moment has passed. As long as I live I’ll never betray my ethical precepts or my chaste path.”
§4Then Sumedhā said to her parents: “So long as I remain a layperson, I’ll refuse to eat any food, until I’ve fallen under the sway of death.” Upset, her mother burst into tears, while her father, though grieved, tried his best to persuade her as she lay collapsed upstairs in the longhouse.
§5“Get up child, why do you grieve so? You’re already betrothed to be married! King Anīkaratta the handsome is in Vāraṇavatī: he is your betrothed. You shall be the chief queen, wife of King Anīkaratta. Ethical precepts, the chaste path—going forth is hard to do, my child. As a royal there is command, wealth, authority, and the happiness of possessions. Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young! Let your wedding take place, my child!”
§6Then Sumedhā said to him: “Let this not come to pass! Existence is hollow! I shall either go forth or die, but I shall never marry. Why cling to this rotting body so foul, stinking of fluids, a horrifying water-bag carcass, always oozing, full of filth? Knowing it like I do, what’s the point? A carcass is vile, smeared with flesh and blood, food for birds and swarms of worms—why have we been given it? Before long the body, bereft of consciousness, is carried out to the charnel ground, to be discarded like an old log by relatives in disgust. When they’ve discarded it in the charnel ground, to be eaten by others, your own parents bathe themselves, disgusted; what then of people at large?
§7They’re attached to this hollow carcass, this mass of sinews and bone; this rotting body full of saliva, tears, feces, and pus. If anyone were to dissect it, turning it inside out, the unbearable stench would disgust even their own mother. Rationally examining the aggregates, elements, and sense fields as conditioned, rooted in birth, suffering—why would I wish for marriage? Let three hundred sharp swords fall on my body everyday! Even if the slaughter lasted a hundred years it’d be worth it if it led to the end of suffering. One who understands the Teacher’s words would put up with this slaughter: ‘Long for you is transmigration being killed time and time again.’
§8Among gods and humans, in the realm of animals or that of titans, among the ghosts or in the hells, endless killings are seen. The hells are full of killing, for the corrupt who have fallen to the underworld. Even among the gods there is no shelter, for no happiness excels extinguishment. Those who are committed to the dispensation of him of the ten powers attain extinguishment. Living at ease, they apply themselves to giving up rebirth and death. On this very day, dad, I shall renounce: what’s to enjoy in hollow riches? I’m disillusioned with sensual pleasures, they’re like vomit, made like a palm stump.”
§9As she spoke thus to her father, Anīkaratta, to whom she was betrothed, approached from Vāraṇavatī at the time appointed for the marriage. Then Sumedhā took up a knife, and cut off her hair, so black, thick, and soft. Shutting herself in the longhouse, she entered the first absorption. And as she entered it there, Anīkaratta arrived at the city. Then in the longhouse, Sumedhā well developed the perception of impermanence. As she investigated in meditation, Anīkaratta quickly climbed the stairs. His limbs adorned with gems and honey-yellow gold, he begged Sumedhā with cupped palms:
§10“As a royal there is command, wealth, authority, and the happiness of possessions. Enjoy sensual pleasures while you’re still young! Sensual pleasures are hard to find in the world! I’ve handed royalty to you—enjoy riches, give gifts! Don’t be sad; your parents are upset.” Sumedhā, having no use for sensual pleasures, and having done away with delusion, spoke right back: “Do not take pleasure in sensuality! See the danger in sensual pleasures! Mandhātā, king of four continents, foremost in enjoying sensual pleasures, died unsated, his desires unfulfilled. Were the seven jewels to rain from the sky all over the ten directions, there would be no sating of sensual pleasures: people die insatiable. Like a butcher’s knife and chopping board, sensual pleasures are like a snake’s head. They burn like a fire-brand, they resemble a skeleton.
§11Sensual pleasures are impermanent and unstable, they’re full of suffering, a terrible poison; like a hot iron ball, the root of gloom, their fruit is pain. Sensual pleasures are like fruits of a tree, like scraps of meat, painful, they trick you like a dream; sensual pleasures are like borrowed goods. Sensual pleasures are like swords and spears; a disease, a boil, gloom and trouble. Like a pit of glowing coals, the root of gloom, fear and slaughter. Thus sensual pleasures have been explained to be obstructions, so full of suffering. Please leave! As for me, I have no trust in any state of life. What can someone else do for me when their own head is burning? When stalked by old age and death, you should strive to destroy them.”
§12She opened the door and saw her parents with Anīkaratta, sitting crying on the floor. And so she said this: “Transmigration is long for fools, crying again and again at that with no known beginning—the death of a father, the killing of a brother or of themselves. Remember the ocean of tears, of milk, of blood—transmigration with no known beginning. Remember the bones piled up by beings transmigrating. Remember the four oceans compared with tears, milk, and blood. Remember bones piled up high as Mount Vipula in the course of a single eon. Transmigration with no known beginning is compared to this broad Black Plum Tree Land; if divided into lumps the size of jujube seeds, they’d still be fewer than his mother’s mothers. Remember the grass, sticks, and leaves, compare that with no known beginning: if split into chips four inches in size, they’d still be fewer than his father’s fathers. Remember the one-eyed turtle and the yoke with a hole blown in the ocean from east to west—sticking the head in the hole is a metaphor for gaining a human birth.
§13Remember the form of this unlucky body, insubstantial as a lump of foam. See the aggregates as impermanent, remember the hells so full of distress. Remember those swelling the charnel grounds again and again in life after life. Remember the danger of gharials! Remember the four truths! When freedom from death is there to be found, why would you drink the five bitter poisons? For all erotic delights are so much more bitter than them. When freedom from death is there to be found, why would you burn for sensual pleasures? For all erotic delights are burning, boiling, bubbling, seething. When there is freedom from enmity, why would you want your enemy, sensual pleasures? Many enemies take a share of your sensual pleasures: kings, fire, robbers, flood, and unloved heirs. When liberation is there to be found, what good are sensual pleasures that kill and bind? For though unwilling, when sensual pleasures are there, they are subject to the pain of killing and binding.
§14As a blazing grass torch burns one who grasps it without letting go, sensual pleasures are like a grass torch, burning those who do not let go. Don’t give up abundant happiness for the trivial joys of sensual pleasure. Don’t fret later, like a catfish on a hook. Deliberately control yourself among sensual pleasures! You’re like a hound fixed to a chain: sensual pleasures will surely devour you as hungry corpse-workers would a dog. Harnessed to sensual pleasure, you undergo endless pain, along with much mental anguish: relinquish sensual pleasures, they don’t last! When the unaging is there to be found, what good are sensual pleasures in which is old age? All rebirths everywhere are bonded to death and sickness. This is freedom from old age, freedom from death! This is freedom from old age and death, the sorrowless state! Free of enmity, unconstricted, faultless, fearless, without tribulations. This freedom from death has been realized by many; even today it can be obtained by those who rationally apply themselves; but it’s impossible if you don’t try.”
§15So said Sumedhā, lacking delight in conditioned things. Soothing Anīkaratta, Sumedhā cast her hair on the ground. Standing up, Anīkaratta raised his cupped palms to her father and begged: “Let go of Sumedhā, so that she may go forth! She will see the truth of liberation.” Released by her mother and father, she went forth, afraid of grief and fear. While still a trainee nun she realized the six direct knowledges, along with the highest fruit.
§16The extinguishment of the princess was incredible and amazing; on her deathbed, she declared her several past lives. “In the time of the Buddha Koṇāgamana, we three friends gave the gift of a newly-built dwelling in the Saṅgha’s monastery. Ten times, a hundred times, a thousand times, ten thousand times, we were reborn among the gods, let alone among humans. We were mighty among the gods, let alone among humans! I was queen to a king with the seven treasures—I was the treasure of a wife. That was the cause, that the origin, that the root, that was the acceptance of the dispensation; that first meeting culminated in extinguishment for one delighting in the teaching. So say those who have faith in the words of the one unrivaled in wisdom. They’re disillusioned with any state of life, and being disillusioned they become dispassionate.”
§17That is how these verses were recited by the senior nun Sumedhā. The Verses of the Senior Nuns are finished.
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