Thig 13:1 Ambapṅlī

- suttas - - evening talks - short morning talks - lectures - guided meditations - talk collections - other themes - chants - - - - à¹à¸à¸¢ - Franā§ais - Espaā±ol - - Portuguāªs - РÑÑÑкий - - - УкÑаÑнÑÑка Submit Search - Home - Suttas - KN - Thig - Thig 13:1 Ambapṅlī ## Browse Suttas Go to Theragṅthṅ index Thag index ## Thig 13:1  Ambapṅlī Black was my hair —the color of bees— & curled at the tips; with age, it looked like coarse hemp. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Fragrant, like a perfumed basket filled with flowers: my coiffure. With age it smelled musty, like animal fur. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Thick & lush, like a well-tended grove, made splendid, the tips elaborate with comb & pin. With age, it grew thin & bald here & there. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Adorned with gold & delicate pins,1 it was splendid, ornamented with braids. Now, with age, that head has gone bald. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Curved, as if well-drawn by an artist, my brows were once splendid. With age, they droop down in folds. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Radiant, brilliant like jewels, my eyes: elongated, black—deep black. With age, theyâre no longer splendid. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like a delicate peak, my nose was splendid in the prime of my youth. With age, itâs like a long pepper. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like bracelets—well-fashioned, well-finished— my ears were once splendid. With age, they droop down in folds. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like plantain buds in their color, my teeth were once splendid. With age, theyâre broken & yellowed. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like that of a cuckoo in the dense jungle, flitting through deep forest thickets: sweet was the tone of my voice. With age, it cracks here & there. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Smooth2—like a conch shell well-polished— my neck was once splendid. With age, itâs broken down, bent. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like rounded door-bars—both of them— my arms were once splendid. With age, theyâre like dried up pṅṭalī trees. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Adorned with gold & delicate rings, my hands were once splendid. With age, theyâre like onions & tubers. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Swelling, round, firm, & high, both my breasts were once splendid. In the drought of old age, they dangle like empty old water bags.3 The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Like a sheet of gold, well-burnished, my body was splendid. Now itâs covered with very fine wrinkles. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Smooth in their lines, like an elephantâs trunk, both my thighs were once splendid. With age, theyâre like knotted bamboo. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Adorned with gold & delicate anklets, my calves were once splendid. With age, theyâre like sesame sticks. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. As if they were stuffed with soft cotton, both my feet were once splendid. With age, theyâre shriveled & cracked. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Such was this physical heap, now: decrepit, the home of pains, many pains. A house with its plaster all fallen off. The Truth-speakerâs word doesnât change. Notes 1. Reading saṃha-kaṃṇaka. 2. Reading saṃha-kamburiva with the Burmese and Sinhalese editions. 3. Reading thevikīva with the Burmese and Sinhalese editions. See also: DN 16; Thag 1:118 - --> - - - -