Chapter 67

1. Eventually everyone must die; like a shadow of his body he lies down, his material goods remain withheld from him.

2. For some, a thousand demons come, dark foggy demons hover around, the darkness of night presses on the dying, oppression comes to them; sitting on the breast, the demons cause them to dream.

3. For some, a false, hairy, ageing demoness comes, the hail-cloud is like her in colour; provided with hideous brows, her look is like a bloody butcher, her disgusting teats are like a nail in sharpness.

4. A grey cloud rises out of her nose, from her throat ascends black smoke; her breast is wholly compact with a myriad of snakes, her hair is a viper; her finger is altogether sharp and venomous.

5. She seizes on the erring Soul beating on its head, she thrusts it into the umbral.

6. The demons found in the umbral seize upon it, the evil demons come, they take it to themselves.

7. There you see many dark spirits, to implore whom when near to death is purposeless.