注維摩詰經 2.182

2.182

[Kumāra]jīva says: Long ago, a man offended the king. The king wished to execute him secretly, so he placed four poisonous snakes in a basket and made him guard it, and stationed five treacherous bandits with drawn swords to watch him. A good friend told him to flee, so the man immediately left and entered an empty village, where he stayed. The friend said again: 'This place is the dwelling of vicious bandits; if you stay here, in a moment the bandits will arrive and take your life and your treasures. You should abandon it quickly, and then you will attain safety.' Following this instruction, the man immediately departed. He then encountered a great river, lashed together a raft, and crossed over. Having crossed over, he was in peace and safety, free from all troubles. The king symbolizes Māra. The basket symbolizes the body. The four snakes are the four great elements. The five treacherous bandits are the five aggregates. The empty village is the six sense-entrances. The vicious bandits are the six sense-objects. The river is saṃsāra. The good friend's teaching to flee means that the buddhas and bodhisattvas teach sentient beings to leave the evil Māra, discard the four great elements, and abandon the five aggregates. Following this instruction, sentient beings, although having abandoned the troubles of these three evils, have not yet left the village and escaped the vicious bandits; they are then further taught to board the raft of the Noble Eightfold Path and cross the flow of saṃsāra. Having crossed the flow of saṃsāra, they are tranquil and free of conditioned action, free from all troubles.
[Seng]zhao says: The six internal sense-bases are compared to an empty village; this is fully attested, and the metaphor appears in other sūtras. Thus the *Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra* says: Contemplate the body as four poisonous snakes. This body is impermanent, constantly eaten and gnawed by immeasurable worms. This body is foul and impure, bound in the prison of greedy desires. This body is terrifying, just like a dead dog. This body is impure, with its nine apertures constantly flowing. This body is like a citadel, covered outside with flesh, blood, sinews, bones, and skin; the hands and feet serve as its defensive towers, the eyes as embrasures, the head as the palace hall, and the mind-king dwells within. Such a citadel of the body is abandoned by the Buddhas, the World-Honoured Ones, but constantly relished by ordinary foolish people; within it dwell the rākṣasas of lust, hatred, and ignorance. This body is not solid, just like a reed, an eraṇḍa tree, foam on water, or a plantain tree. This body is impermanent, not persisting for a single thought-moment, just like lightning, a sudden flood, a phantom flame, or like drawing on water, which closes up as soon as it is drawn. This body is easily broken, like a great tree on a steep riverbank. This body does not last long, eaten by tigers, wolves, kites, owls, eagles, vultures, and hungry dogs. What wise person would delight in this body? One could rather fill the footprint of an ox with the great ocean's water than fully describe the impermanence, impurity, and foulness of this body. One could rather ball up the great earth to the size of a date, and gradually make it smaller, down to a mustard seed or even a speck of dust, than fully describe the faults and afflictions of this body. Therefore, one should abandon it like casting away spittle and phlegm.