“Yaṃ pubbe taṃ visosehi, pacchā te māhu kiñcanaṃ.
Majjhe ce no gahessasi, upasanto carissasi.
“Sabbaso nāmarūpasmiṃ, yassa natthi mamāyitaṃ.
Asatā ca na socati, sa ve loke na jīyati.
“Yassa natthi idaṃ meti, paresaṃ vāpi kiñcanaṃ.
Mamattaṃ so asaṃvindaṃ, natthi meti na socati.”
What has passed, let it wither
What comes after, treat it as trifling
If you don’t get lost in what’s in the middle
You will live and move in peace.
One who does not see as “mine”
Anything having name and form,
Doesn’t taste grief
Is not of the decaying world
Whoever doesn’t think, “this is mine”
Has passed over a sea of troubles
One who knows nothing of my-making
Is not grieved by having nothing.
Sn 4.25. 955-957