Uraga sutta: The Serpent

When anger surges, they drive it out,
as with medicine a cobra’s spreading venom.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They’ve cut off greed entirely,
like a lotus plucked flower and stalk.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They’ve cut off craving entirely,
drying up that swift-flowing stream.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They’ve swept away conceit entirely,
as a fragile bridge of reeds by a great flood.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

In future lives they find no worth,
as an inspector of fig trees finds no flower.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They hide no anger within,
passed beyond any kind of existence.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

Their mental vibrations are cleared away,
internally clipped off entirely.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
but have gone beyond all this proliferation.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
for they know that nothing in the world <j>is what it seems.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of greed.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of lust.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of hate.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have not run too far nor run back,
knowing nothing is what it seems, free of delusion.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have no underlying tendencies at all,
and are rid of unskillful roots,
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They have nothing born of distress at all
to make them to return to the near shore.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

No snarl grows in them at all,
that would shackle them to a new life.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.

They’ve given up the five hindrances,
untroubled, rid of indecision, free of thorns.
Such a mendicant sheds the near shore and the far,
as a serpent its old worn-out skin.