Then the devata inhabiting the forest thicket, feeling sympathy for the monk, desiring his benefit, desiring to bring him to his senses, approached him and addressed him with this verse:
"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.The devata:
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?"
"A person ruthless & grasping,[The monk:]
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."
"Yes, yakkha, you understand me[The devata:]
and show me sympathy.
Warn me again, yakkha,
whenever again
you see something like this."
"I don't depend on youThe monk, chastened by the devata, came to his senses.
for my living
nor am I
your hired hand.
You, monk,
you yourself should know
how to go to the good destination."