"How great and gracious, Lord, thou art benign,
My request grant, this second of the boons.
I hear the gods do fear and age have none,
In heaven's abode hunger and thirst are not,
Thou Death art not there, hence no ageing fright.
Grant me the wisdom, Cosmic Fire's secret,
By which rejoicing I shall deem fulfilled."

"This mind's majestic cosmic sweep's domain,
Vaishvanara, the Fire Celestial,
Igniting which in concept's sacrifice
In contemplation's comprehensiveness
One gains the world, nay, worlds he does become,
This I shall teach, do learn it from me now,
The guarded knowledge gods zealously keep,
In having which creation's wealth one owns,
Of endless realms one emperor becomes,
Has access into fourteen worlds at once,
With omni-wisdom as the cosmic king,
He rules as all, over all he has the sway.
This science mortals know not till this day,
Which I relate in all its great details,
The Source of worlds, from where creation dawned,
The Fire Supreme of Cosmic Sacrifice,
Whose bricks of altar, framework and lay-out,
Are widespread objects mind does envisage,
The frame is perception's wide tangled field,
In consciousness where worlds are firmly held,
Where each is what it is by other's state,
So that to know any is knowing all,
And knowing all is being everyone,
For Cosmic Fabric is this Mighty Force,
Whose every thread is strung with all others,
Sutratman, great, this's Soul of all the threads,
Impossible for understandings frail,
The fruit of hard Tapas and mind's restraint,
Wherein installed as god of gods one hails.
This glory take as teaching from me, lad,
Good Nachiketas, be thou free of bonds."
So Yama spoke, instructed student come
In thunder's tone reverberating skies.

"But ask the third, the boon I promised, dear;
Virat thou knowest, what else dost thou seek."

"Lord let me know what irks my mind with doubt,
Some say there is a soul and some 'tis not;
What haps the soul when world it quits and goes,
Does it survive or does it cease to be;
When all it loses when it gains the all,
Where does it live, or exist not at all.
This wisdom grant, this is the third of boons,
This greatest blessing graciously bequeath."

"No, ask not thus, this question never raise,
Not all the gods can dare to answer this,
For none of gods is free from doubt, surprise,
Eluding marvel, sense of mystery,
And hopeless feeling in this quest of soul,
Which none has seen and none can ever see;
Subtle is law which concerns soul of man,
With hardship grasped, not easy path is this,
This principle, this way, this truth, which hides
Behind the mind and all the faculties
Which mankind wields by which one knowledge gains,
All which return when baffled by this light
Which darkness all the knowledge world can boast.
How, then, canst thou, whence gods in fright depart,
Persist in quest, whence all recoil despaired;
Ask, therefore, something other than this boon,
Embarrass not and press not this again,
Leave me here free and bind me not this way."

"Dost thou declare that even angels fail,
And are in doubt and know not secret soul's;
Then I am blest for here I am before
The master-teacher who does surely know.
Master, thou knowest, none better than thee
Can I find ever, teach me supplicant.
No other boon can stand compared with this,
Others I ask not, this alone I ask."

"Ask better things, more glorious, meaningful,
Children and friends and wealth and kine and kind,
Who live and last hundreds of years to come,
Royalty over all the widespread earth,
For ages long do rule as mighty king,
Have all the joys and pleasures gods covet,
I grant thee joys which angels not obtain,
Crown and servants and maids and elephant trains,
Army, power and fearless kingdom thine,
Nectar's dishes and nectared bathing streams,
And all the world shall bow in reverence,
Endless durations thou shalt reign the worlds
Of dazzling light, limitless glory thine,
Music and dance and fairest damsels take,
Enchanting maidens mortals ne'er can dream,
Chariots with horses windlike swift-moving,
Silver and gold, what men can hardly find,
Ask more of these, but ask not soul's beyond."

"What good are these that thou offerest, lord,
All things shall pass as transient wisp of breeze,
All joys and pleasures wear the senses' strength,
Senile becomes and dies who pleasures seeks,
All lustre leaves the face of indulgence,
And longest life is short when once it ends,
For end it must though longest it may seem.
Where is the charm in frames made out of clay
Though they be varnished with a daub of gold.
Vibrations' chord of sympathy deceive
The seeker pleasure's into false belief
That joys do stand as bricks are hard to touch,
While joys are phantoms, in fact exist not.
Take back the song and dance and maidens, thine,
Not all the worlds can please a single man,
If thee we see we all the wealth shall gain.
Knowing the worth of colour, taste and touch,
Of sound and smell which tantalise the mind,
Which person sensible would crave their grace
And land his life in sorrow and ruin.
Hence, greatest lord, do condescend to grant
That secret wisdom gods have not yet gained,  
The thing of doubt, the destiny of soul,
Its whereabouts when hence it freed departs,
This do I ask, and none other at all."