She has completed her voyage; she had gone beyond sorrow, The fetters of life have fallen from her, and she lives in full freedom.
The thoughtful strive always. They have no fixed abode, but leave home like swans from their lake.
Like the flight of birds in the sky, it is hard to follow the path of the selfless. They have no possessions, but live on alms in a world of freedom. Like the flight of birds in the sky, it is hard to follow their path. With the senses under control, temperate in eating , they know the meaning of freedom.
Even the gods envy the saints, whose senses obey them like well-trained horses and who are free from pride. Patient like the earth, they stand on the threshold. They are pure like a lake without mud, and free from the cycle of birth and death.
Wisdom has stilled their minds, and their thoughts, words, and deeds are filled with peace. Freed from illusion and from personal ties, they have renounced the world of appearance to find reality. Thus have they reached the highest.
They make holy wherever they dwell, in village or forest, on land or at sea. With their senses at peace and minds full of joy, they make the forests holy.
