Translated by the Tripiṭaka Master Shi Shengjian of the Qifu Qin Dynasty
Heard like this:
One day, the Buddha was in the country of Vārāṇasī, together with one thousand two hundred and fifty bhikṣus, as well as countless bodhisattvas, kings, ministers, elders, laymen, male pure believers, and female pure believers. At that time, they all came together to assemble.
The Buddha said to the bhikṣus, “Everyone, remain silent, calm your thoughts and listen attentively. I recall that in past lives, when I first attained the path of the bodhisattva, I upheld the precepts, extended great loving-kindness universally, diligently concentrated with single-mindedness, cultivated wisdom, and skillfully taught the Buddha Dharma through skillful means that benefit others. The merits I accumulated were beyond reckoning. Among devas, nāgas, spirits, kings, and people, none could practice as I did.”
Ānanda, upon hearing the Buddha’s words, adjusted his robes, joined his palms, knelt with both knees on the ground, and said to the Buddha, “Willing am I to hear the Buddha’s exposition.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “In the countless past lifetimes, there was a bodhisattva by the name ‘All-Wondrous-Deeds’. He was kind-hearted, generous in bestowing blessings, rescued sentient beings, constantly practiced the four immeasurable minds, saved the world from dangers, and nurtured people in suffering. This bodhisattva resided in the Tuṣita Heaven, teaching the devas. Moreover, he would regularly, at the six times of day and night, abide in proper concentration and mindfulness, contemplate the three realms, and observe the karmic paths of good and evil among the people in all the ten directions’ lands. He honored and supported his parents, revered the Three Jewels, respectfully obeyed his teachers and elders, cultivated all virtues, and constantly used his divine eye to observe the beings in the five realms.
“At that time, in the country of Kāśī, there was a certain venerable elder who was alone and without a son. Both he and his wife were blind in both eyes. The couple gave rise to the aspiration to enter the mountains in search of supreme wisdom, cultivating with pure resolve and faith, delighting in places of purity and tranquility. The bodhisattva thought: ‘These two have resolved to cultivate the subtle and true path, yet their eyes are blind and they can see nothing. If they enter the mountains, they may fall into ditches or pits, or encounter venomous insects—many dangers await them. If I were to end this life, I would go and become their child, to serve and support them until the end of their lives.’ Thereupon the bodhisattva passed away and was reborn in the house of the blind couple, becoming their son. The parents were overjoyed, their hearts filled with deep love and affection. Though they had originally aspired to enter the mountains to cultivate the true path, the birth of a child caused them to become attached to worldly life. When the child turned ten, they named him Śyāmaka. Śyāmaka was extremely filial, kind-hearted, and practiced the ten wholesome actions: he did not kill, did not steal, did not commit sexual misconduct, did not deceive, did not drink alcohol, did not speak falsehoods, did not speak frivolously, and was not jealous. He believed in the true path without doubt and was diligent both day and night. He served his parents as one would serve the heavens. When speaking, he always bore a smile; his words never offended others. His conduct conformed to the Dharma, and his eyes never glanced at wicked things. Thus, his parents were greatly joyful and no longer sorrowful.
“When Śyāmaka was over ten years old, one day he knelt respectfully before his parents and said, “You originally made a great vow, intending to enter the deep mountains, aspiring to dwell in tranquil silence and to pursue the unsurpassed path. How can such a vow be abandoned just because of a child? Human life in this world is ever-changing and impermanent. Life is not like metal or stone—it cannot endure endlessly. I only hope that you will remain true to your original intention, according to your prior aspiration. I, your child, will follow you into the mountains. Whatever offerings and services you may require, I will not fail in timeliness or propriety.” The parents replied, “Your filial heart is surely known by Heaven. We will not go against our original vow—let us now enter the mountains.” Śyāmaka then gave away all possessions of the household to the poor in the kingdom, and thus he entered the mountains together with his parents.
“After entering the mountains, Śyāmaka built a shelter for his parents using firewood and grass, laying out bedding for them. The shelter was neither cold nor hot, and the temperature remained consistently moderate. At that time, a full year had passed since they had entered the mountains. The fruits that grew there were abundant and fine in appearance, their taste fragrant and sweet. Springs gushed forth with water that was clear and cool. Lotus flowers bloomed in the ponds, displaying five bright colors. Trees emitting various sandalwood fragrances grew luxuriantly, and the scent was twice as strong as ordinary. The wind and rain came at the proper times, and the temperature was neither cold nor hot. The trees’ leaves grew densely, shielding them from rain and dew. The shade of the trees blocked the sunlight, and it was always cool under the canopy. Birds flew in and gathered, singing in harmony like musical instruments, bringing joy to the blind parents. Lions, brown bears, tigers, wolves, and venomous beasts all treated one another with loving-kindness, with no intent to harm. All drank water and ate fruit peacefully, their minds free from fear or terror. Deer and crows also came near, and they called out in resonance with Śyāmaka’s voice, bringing delight to the blind parents. Śyāmaka was extremely filial and kind-hearted. No one could surpass him. When stepping on the ground, he always feared causing pain to the earth. Heavenly deities and mountain spirits transformed into human forms, coming by day or night to offer support and comfort to the three ascetics, helping them remain focused and free from worry.
“Śyāmaka often gathered a hundred kinds of melons and fruits to provide for his parents. When his parents were occasionally thirsty and wished to drink water, Śyāmaka would drape himself in deerskin, carry a jar, and go to fetch water. Deer and birds would also come to the pond to drink, and none feared one another. At that time, the king of Kāśī entered the mountains to hunt. Upon seeing deer and birds by the water, the king drew his bow to shoot. Unexpectedly, the arrow missed its target and struck Śyāmaka. Śyāmaka was pierced by a poisoned arrow and suffered greatly, crying out loudly, “Who has used a poisoned arrow to slay three ascetics?”
“The king heard the human voice and dismounted from his horse, approaching Śyāmaka. Śyāmaka said to the king, “The elephant dies for its tusks, the rhinoceros for its horn, the kingfisher for its feathers, the deer for its hide. But I—having no tusks, no horns, no hide, and with flesh that is not edible—what crime have I committed to suffer such wrongful death?”
“The king asked, “Who are you, and why are you clad in deerskin, appearing no different from a beast?”
“Śyāmaka replied, “I am a subject of Your Majesty’s kingdom. Together with my blind parents, I came here to cultivate the Way. It has been more than twenty years now. In over twenty years, I was never harmed by tigers, wolves, or poisonous creatures. Yet today, I have been shot by the arrow of Your Majesty.””
“At that moment, a great storm suddenly arose in the mountains, uprooting and snapping trees. Birds, wild beasts, lions, brown bears, tigers, wolves, and venomous creatures all cried out in anguish—their wails resounded throughout the entire mountain. The sun lost its radiant brilliance, mountain springs dried up, flowers withered and died, and thunder and lightning shook the earth. The blind parents, startled and alarmed, rose and said, “What strange calamity has occurred? Śyāmaka went to fetch water, and he’s been gone for so long—could he have been harmed by poisonous insects? The mourning cries of birds and beasts are unlike the usual sounds. The wind rises from all directions, toppling trees—this must be a sign of great misfortune to cause such abnormality.”
“The king, filled with fear, deeply blamed and regretted himself: “I had only intended to shoot a deer, but my arrow has mistakenly struck a cultivator of the Way. Truly, this is a grievous sin. Because I lacked meat, I gave rise to greedy desire, and unknowingly brought about such a terrible disaster. Today I vow to use all the wealth of my nation—its treasures, palaces, singers and dancers, mountains, and cities—to save your life.””
“The king then stepped forward and tried to pull the arrow from Śyāmaka’s chest with his hands, but the arrow had pierced too deeply and could not be removed. Birds and beasts gathered from all directions, wailing in sorrow—their cries shook the whole mountain. The king was even more terrified; every joint of his body trembled. Śyāmaka said, “This is not the fault of the great king; it is the result of my own karmic offenses from past lives. I do not grieve for my own body or life—I only pity my blind parents. They are already aged and frail, their eyes cannot see. If they lose me, they too will perish. Because of this, I feel deeply distressed.”
“As Śyāmaka spoke, the devas, nāgas, and spirits were moved and reverent. The king once again said, “I would rather descend into hell and endure retribution for a hundred kalpas than let Śyāmaka’s life be lost.” The king then knelt before Śyāmaka in repentance and confessed his fault: “If Śyāmaka passes away, I will not return to the kingdom. I shall remain here in the mountains, caring for your blind parents just as you did while alive. You need not worry. Let the devas, nāgas, spirits, and gods all be witness—I will not break this vow.
“Upon hearing the king’s vow, Śyāmaka said, “Though I have been struck by a poisoned arrow, my heart is filled with joy. Even in the face of death, I feel no regret, because my parents will now be looked after by Your Majesty. The king’s sins will thereby be extinguished, and immeasurable blessings will be obtained.”
“The king said, “Please now tell me where your parents are. While their son still breathes, I beg you to let me know.”
“Śyāmaka pointed and instructed, “From here, follow the small path—not far ahead, you will see a grass hut. My parents reside there. I ask the great king to approach gently and not startle them. Please speak to them with skillful, gentle words that they can accept, and let them know what has happened. Please speak to them on my behalf in this way:
‘I have lived amid impermanence and change, and now, on this day, I am about to depart for the next life. I do not grieve for my body or life—only for my blind parents, who are aged and cannot see. If they lose me, they will have nothing to rely upon. Because of this, I feel deep anguish. My death now will separate me from my parents. This is the consequence of karma from past lives, inescapable and beyond avoidance. Today I repent for all the evils I have committed through countless kalpas, and I pray that my sins may thereby be extinguished. May I in all future lives be reunited with my parents and never again be separated. At that time, I will ensure my parents live to the natural end of their years, free from affliction. May the devas, nāgas, spirits, and gods always protect and support them. May disasters be eliminated, and may all that my parents wish for be fulfilled in accordance with their thoughts, naturally and without striving.’”
“The king, leading several attendants, proceeded to the dwelling of Śyāmaka’s parents. After the king departed, Śyāmaka, with his final breath, passed away. Birds and wild beasts gathered from all directions, letting out loud cries of grief. They surrounded Śyāmaka’s body, licking the blood from his chest. Hearing these sounds, the blind parents grew even more alarmed and began pacing about in confusion. As the king approached, rustling the grass and trees, the blind parents were startled and said, “Who is this? These are not the footsteps of our son.”
“The king replied, “I am the king of Kāśī. Hearing that blind ascetics were cultivating in the mountains, I have come to offer my support.”
“The blind father and mother said, “We trouble Your Majesty to lower yourself and come from afar into this desolate wilderness to visit us. You must be greatly fatigued—may Your Majesty’s body be well? Are the queen, the crown prince, and the ministers all in good health? Is the wind and rain in harmony, and do the five grains yield a good harvest? Are the people of neighboring countries not causing any harm?”
“The king answered the ascetics, “Thanks to the kindness and blessing of the venerable ones, all is well.”
“The king then further asked the blind couple, “Your labor here in the mountains must be arduous, and the forest is hard to live in—are you both living in peace?”
“The blind parents replied, “Through the grace and kindness of Your Majesty, we have always lived in tranquility. We have a filial son named Śyāmaka. He often gathers melons, fruits, and spring water for us, so we lack nothing. Here we have a straw mat—Your Majesty may sit on it. We also have melons and fruits for you to eat. Śyāmaka went to fetch water—he should be on his way back now.””
“Upon hearing the words of Śyāmaka’s parents, the king was overcome with sorrow once more. Weeping, he said, “My sins are truly deep. I entered the mountains to hunt and from afar saw herds of deer by the water. I drew my bow to shoot, but the arrow accidentally struck Śyāmaka. The ascetic Śyāmaka was hit by a poisoned arrow and suffered greatly. Therefore, I have come here today to inform you.”
“Upon hearing this, the blind parents collapsed to the ground, as though Mount Sumeru had crumbled or the earth had quaked. They raised their faces to the heavens and wailed, crying out their sorrow: “Our son Śyāmaka was the most filial person under the heavens—none could surpass him. When he stepped upon the earth, he always feared causing pain to the ground. What sin did he commit to be struck down by an arrow? Just now, a violent wind arose and broke the trees, birds mourned and cried loudly—their cries shook the entire mountain. In over twenty years of living in these mountains, we had never experienced such strange and dreadful signs. Our son Śyāmaka had gone out to fetch water and had not returned—we feared some misfortune might have occurred. All the gods and spirits stirred in alarm, and so these ominous sounds arose.”
“The mother wept without ceasing. The father said, “Weep no more. All beings born in this world must die—such is the nature of impermanence; it cannot be avoided. I only ask the king: how severe is the arrow wound? Is Śyāmaka still alive today, or has he passed?”
“The king then conveyed Śyāmaka’s words to the blind parents. Hearing the king’s report, they fell once more into grief and despair. “If we lose our son, we too shall die. Your Majesty, please now take our hands and lead us to the body of our son.””
“The king then led the blind parents to where Śyāmaka’s body lay. The father cradled his son’s head; the mother held his feet upon her knees. They each reached out with both hands and touched the arrow in Śyāmaka’s chest. They raised their faces to the sky and called out: “O devas, nāgas, spirits, mountain gods, and tree gods—our son Śyāmaka is the most filial among all beings. He is known by all devas, nāgas, and spirits. We are already old, and our eyes can no longer see. If our bodies could be offered in exchange for our son’s life, we would die without regret.”
“Thereupon, the parents together made a vow: “If Śyāmaka is truly the most filial, known by Heaven and Earth, may the arrow be withdrawn, may the poisoned pain be cured, and may Śyāmaka be restored to life.””
“At that time, in the second heaven of the Desire Realm—the Trāyastriṃśa Heaven—the throne of the Heavenly King Śakra trembled. The Heavenly King looked with his divine eye and saw the two blind ascetics crying out in grief as they held their deceased son. Their wails even reached the fourth heaven—Tuṣita Heaven. Śakra, Brahmā, and the Four Heavenly Kings descended from the heavens. Like a person extending or withdrawing an arm, in an instant they arrived before Śyāmaka. They administered supreme divine medicine into Śyāmaka’s mouth. Due to the power of the divine medicine, the arrow was expelled, the poison driven out, and Śyāmaka was restored to life, just as before.
“When his parents heard that Śyāmaka had come back to life, their eyes opened and regained sight. Birds and beasts sang joyful melodies. The great wind ceased, clouds and mists dispersed, and the sun shone once again. Springs gushed forth, clear and cool. Lotus flowers bloomed in the pond, their five colors vivid. Trees emitting various sandalwood fragrances grew lush and full, with a scent more intense than before. At that moment, the king was overwhelmed with joy. He paid homage to Śakra, then paid respect to Śyāmaka’s parents and to Śyāmaka himself. He vowed to offer all the treasures of his kingdom in support of the ascetic, hoping thereby to extinguish his sins and ensure that no trace of them would remain.
“Śyāmaka said to the king, “If the great king wishes to generate vast blessings, simply return to the kingdom, pacify and comfort the people, and encourage the citizens to uphold the precepts. Great king, do not hunt again or slaughter innocent beings without cause. One who kills sentient beings cannot dwell in peace, and after death will fall into hell. Human life in this world is fleeting—love and attachment are only temporarily present. In the end, all must part; no one can abide here forever. Great king, it is because of your past-life blessings that you have been born as a king in this life. You must not be arrogant or act according to your own whims. Because of unrestrained conduct, one creates boundless evil, and in future lives will fall into bad destinies—what use will regret be then?”
“The king replied, “I shall act according to your words.”
“Those who had accompanied the king on his hunt saw that Śyāmaka had died and then, through the gods’ divine medicine, had come back to life. Not only that, they also witnessed the blind parents open their eyes and regain sight. As a result, all of them began to uphold the Five Precepts and practice the Ten Wholesome Deeds. After death, they were reborn in heavenly realms, never again falling into the evil paths.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda and the assembled multitude: “Śyāmaka was my past life. The blind father was the past life of King Śuddhodana. The blind mother was the past life of the present Queen Māyā. The king of Kāśī at that time was the past life of Ānanda. And the Heavenly King Śakra was the past life of Maitreya Buddha.”
The Buddha said to Ānanda, “In my past life as a son, I was kind and filial to my parents; in my past life as a king, I nurtured the people with compassion; in my past life as a citizen, I reverently served the sovereign. Thus, I ultimately became the Honored One of the Three Realms.”
When the Buddha finished teaching this sūtra, all the bodhisattvas, bhikṣus, bhikṣuṇīs, upāsakas, and upāsikās gave rise to joy in their hearts, paid homage, and departed.
Dharma Torch 