Gazing into the heart of a clear crystal:

Being unable to fix your mind in meditation, your head spinning around with thoughts,

When you seem trapped by the solidity of hopes and fears and grasp at the reality of a self,

When all the activities of the mind appear in total confusion –

Remember the impermanence of birth, death and transmigration.

Even the terrors of hot and cold sickness are only illusion

And if you were to spend an aeon boiling and burning in hell,

Being free of birth and death, your mind would emerge unscathed.

Food, wealth, and your beloved family and friends are illusory 

And, even though you are particularly attached to your own body,  all are doomed to die one day.

This whole cycle of birth and death (saṁsāra) is the product of  hope, fear and confusion,

Seen as clarity and emptiness without grasping at substance in the mind of a buddha,

Like the open sky, free of clouds,

Brilliant and bright, with absolutely nothing to grasp on to.

People who read this in total amazement, 

Forsake all tendencies to grasp at things as real.