Relatives lament, their hair disheveled, saying ‘Ah! Alas! They’re not immortal!’ They take out the body wrapped in a shroud, heap up a pyre, and burn it there.

It’s poked with stakes while being burnt, in just a single cloth, all wealth gone. Relatives, friends, and companions can’t help you when you’re dying.

Heirs take your riches, while beings fare on according to their deeds. Riches don’t follow you when you die; nor do children, wife, wealth, nor kingdom.

Longevity isn’t gained by riches, nor does wealth banish old age; for the attentive say this life is short, it’s perishable and not eternal.