“It’s too cold, too hot, too late,” they say. When the young neglect their work like this, opportunities pass them by.
“Atisītaṁ atiuṇhaṁ, atisāyamidaṁ ahu; Iti vissaṭṭhakammante, khaṇā accenti māṇave.
But one who considers heat and cold as no more than blades of grass— he does his duties as a man, and his happiness never fails.
Yo ca sītañca uṇhañca, tiṇā bhiyyo na maññati; Karaṁ purisakiccāni, so sukhā na vihāyati.
With my chest I’ll thrust aside the grasses, vines, canes, the vetiver, rushes and reeds, and foster seclusion.
Dabbaṁ kusaṁ poṭakilaṁ, usīraṁ muñjapabbajaṁ; Urasā panudissāmi, vivekamanubrūhayan”ti. … Mātaṅgaputto thero ….
