There is no way that those born will not die. On reaching old age death follows: such is the nature of living creatures.

As ripe fruit are always in danger of falling, so mortals once born are always in danger of death.

As clay pots made by a potter all 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 death leave 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 stricken by 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 wailing will you find peace of heart. It just gives rise to more suffering, and distresses your body.