Make An Island Onto Yourself

Like a wither leave you are now,

Messenger of death waits for you.

On the threshold of decay you stand,

As there is no provision there for you.

Make an island onto yourself,

Strive quickly to become wise.

Purge stains and passionates,

You shall enter the heavenly state of the Noble.

Your life has come to an end now,

To the presence of death you are setting out.

There is no place for you to stop in between,

As there is no provision for you.

Make an island onto yourself,

Strive quickly and become wise.

Purge stains and passionates,

You shall enter the heavenly state of the Noble.

Your life has come to an end now,

To the presence of death you are setting out.

There is no place for you to stop in between,

As there is no provision for you.

You will not come back again to birth and old age.