“You sniff this water-born flower
that hasn’t been given to you.
This, dear sir, is a factor of stealing.
You are a thief of a scent.”
The monk:
“I don’t take, don’t damage.
I sniff at the lotus
from far away.
So why do you call me
a thief of a scent?
One who
digs up the stalks,
damages flowers,
one of such ruthless behavior:
why don’t you say it of him?”
The devatā:
“A person ruthless & grasping,
smeared like a nursing diaper:
to him
I have nothing to say.
It’s you
to whom I should speak.
To a person unblemished,
constantly searching for purity,
a hair-tip’s worth of evil
seems as large
as a cloud.”
The monk:
“Yes, yakkha, you understand me
and show me sympathy.
Warn me again, yakkha,
whenever again
you see something like this.”
The devatā:
“I don’t depend on you
for my living
nor am I
your hired hand.
You, monk,
you yourself should know
how to go to the good destination.”
Origin URL: https://www.dhammatalks.org/suttas/SN/SN9_14.html