Norman
107. With hair cut off, wearing dust, formerly I wandered, having only one robe, thinking there was a fault where there was no fault, and seeing no fault where there was a fault.
108. Going out from my daytime resting-place on Mt. Gijjhakūṭa, I saw the stainless Buddha, attended by the Order of bhikkhus.
109. Having bent the knee, having paid homage to him, I stood with cupped hands face to face with him. “Come, Bhadda,” he said to me; that was my ordination.
110. I have wandered over Aṅga, and Magadha, Vajjī, Kāsi, and Kosala. For fifty years without debt I have enjoyed the alms of the kingdoms.
111. Truly he produced much merit; truly wise was that lay-follower who gave a robe to Bhadda who is now freed from all bonds.
Weingast
I used to walk everywhere
wearing only a robe,
a shaved head,
and the dust of the road.
It was all great fun—
but I was still mistaking
the essential for the inessential,
and the inessential for the essential.
Please. I know it’s a mouthful.
But can you tell one from the other?
If so, how?
Here at the end,
part of me still wants to go back
and kiss every inch
of every road
I ever walked.
But it’s enough
just to say thank you—
and goodbye.