The Traveller: V. Old

"Their cord extended across
What was above it? What beneath?
There were those with seed, those with powers
Energy beneath, impulse above

You are now like a withered leaf
The messengers of death are waiting
You stand at the threshold of departure
Yet have no provision for the journey

My eyes look back at me and say
Where were these wrinkles yesterday?
Where are the friends you used to know?
Where are the oats you used to sow?
Who is this stranger  foolish, wise 
Who stares at you with your own eyes?

Swollen, swollen, swollen with pride, you wander
On your ten months in the womb, why have you ceased to ponder?
Bees store honey, you store gold, but for all you gain here
Once you're dead, they'll shout, Away! Don't let his ghost remain here
Your wife will follow to the door, your friends to your last station
Then your soul's alone once more  no friend and no relation
Burned, your body will turn to ash buried, you'll lie rotten 
An unbaked water-swollen pot, you'll fall apart, forgotten
Into the trap the parrot walks, lost in its own confusion
Into the well of death falls Man, drunk with the world's delusion

I have now grown old, Ananda, worn out, full of years, approaching dusk
I am eighty years old. Just as an old cart is kept going by makeshift repair, so too is it with my body
Therefore, now, Ananda, be lamps to yourselves
Be a refuge to yourselves. Seek no other refuge
Take the truth as a lamp. Take the truth as a refuge
Seek no other refuge

All my arrangements were in vain, no drug could cure my malady
It was an ailment of my heart that made a final end of me
My term of youth I passed in tears, in age I closed my eyes at last
That is: I lay awake long nights till dawn and sleep came finally
"