AFTER BUDDHAGHOSA

  

You see, just as a marionette is void,

Soulless and without curiosity,

And while it walks and stands and sits and speaks

Through combinations of the strings employed

To make it seem as though it might enjoy,

Like us, the drama of life’s vain desires—

Seems to have hopes and dreams and to aspire—

One’s own frail ego stands in such a poise,

Seeming to be concerned and well aware.

And this is what the ancient masters tell:

Though mind-and-matter certainly are here,

No human being in them can be found;

For they are null and fashioned like a doll—

Just suffering, piled up like grassy mounds.