Him of Renunciation by Sri Shankaracharya Early one morning,
Shankaracharya was going to the Ganges for his daily ablutions when he heard a student loudly repeating one of the rules of grammar in order to memorize it.
The sage thought that this morning hour should have been devoted to the contemplation of God.
Feeling sad at the waste of time,
He composed this hymn of renunciation.
Sunrise and sunset,
Daylight and darkness,
Winter and springtime come and go.
Even the course of time is playful.
Life itself soon ebbs away.
But man's vain hope,
Alas,
Goes onward.
Tirelessly onward evermore.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Seeking for warmth,
The penniless beggar closely crouches before their fire,
Or sits with only the sun to warm them.
Nightly they lay down to slumber,
Curling up to keep out the cold.
Hungrily eats the beggar's portion out of the bowl his hands provide him.
Takes up his dwelling under a tree,
Still as hard as a helpless prisoner,
Bound with the chains of empty hope.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
While a person supports their family,
See what loving care they show.
But when their aging body falters,
Nearing the time of dissolution,
None,
Not even their nearest family,
Will think to ask them how they fare.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death draws nigh.
Many are those whose locks are matted.
Many whose heads are closely shaved.
Many who pluck out all their hair,
Some of them wearing robes of ochre,
Some of them clad in other colors.
All these things for their stomach's sake.
Seeing truth revealed before them,
Still the deluded see it not.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Let a person but read from the Gita.
Drink the Ganges just a drop.
Worship the Lord but once.
And they will set at rest forever all fear of the King of Death.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Feeble has grown the old person's body.
Toothless their gums and bald their head.
But there they go,
On their crutches,
Clinging firmly to fruitless hope.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Lost in play is the carefree stripling.
Lost in his sweetheart's charms,
The youth.
The old man broods upon his sorrows.
None there is,
Alas,
Whose spirit yearns to be lost in the Parabrahman.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Doing everything right profits nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Birth unceasing.
Death unceasing.
Ever to pass through a mother's womb.
Hard to cross is the world's wide ocean.
Lord,
Redeem me through your mercy.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Taking refuge in the transient things of the world profits nothing once the hour of death draws close.
Day follows day.
Night follows night.
New moon,
Full moon,
Ever returning.
Summer and winter see the planet,
Ever inclining on its axis.
Year follows year unfailingly.
But though a changeless law of recurrence grips the world in a relentless way,
Still there's none who dare abandon expectation's empty promise.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Youth having gone,
What good is passion?
Without water,
What use is a lake?
Where to be found are friends and kinsmen once the money's all gone?
Where is the world when truth is known?
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Lust at the sight of a woman or man's body springs from ignorance,
Lust springs from error.
Inwardly reason over and over.
Bodies are flesh and blood and fat.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws near.
Who am I?
And who are you?
What is the place from which I come?
Who is my mother?
And who is my father?
Thinking this way,
Perceive them all as imagination only,
Without any real substance.
Give up the transient world as an idle dream.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws close.
Every day recite from the Gita.
Chant the thousand names of Vishnu,
Cherishing him within your heart.
Take delight to be with the holy and give all your riches away to the poor.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws close.
While a person's soul remains in their body,
Fondly their family wish them well,
But when the life breath leaves its dwelling,
Even your partner will flee in fear.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death comes close.
They who yield to lust for pleasure leave their frame prey to disease.
Yet though death is the final ending,
None gives up their sinfulness.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules profit nothing once the hour of death draws close.
Rags cast off along the highway serve as a garment for the monk.
Freed from vice and freed from virtue,
Onward they wander in their sight.
Nor I,
Nor you,
Nor the world exists.
Why then give way to sorrow?
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules have no benefit once death draws close.
Though for the sake of their salvation,
A person may go to pilgrimage to Ganga-sagra,
To keep their vows and give to the poor.
Not reaching knowledge of the highest,
Nothing of this assures them freedom,
Even in the span of a hundred lives.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda.
Worship Govinda,
Foolish one.
Rules of grammar profit nothing once the hour of death draws close.
