肇論 1.54

1.54

Sengzhao states: Zhao has heard that Heaven attains the One to become clear, Earth attains the One to become tranquil, and sovereign rulers attain the One to govern all under heaven. Bowing in reverence, I contemplate Your Majesty: sagely and wise, reverent and luminous, the Dao merges with your spirit. Subtly tallying with the center of the ring, there is no principle you do not comprehend; gliding your blade amidst myriad affairs of state, you propagate the Dao the livelong day. Your awe-inspiring majesty covers the populace; you hand down writings to establish standards. Thus, within the realm there are four great things, and the king occupies one of them. The way of nirvāṇa is indeed that to which the triyāna returns, the profound repository of the vaipulya [sūtras]. Vast, boundless, inaudible, and invisible, it transcends the realm of seeing and hearing; its dark import is vacant and profound, scarcely measurable by ordinary sentiments. Zhao, being a person of low station, by an unmerited stroke of state grace was permitted to reside at leisure in the hall of learning, attending under Master Kumārajīva for more than ten years. Although the myriad sūtras have diverse imports and their sublime purports are not merely one, nonetheless with regard to the single meaning of nirvāṇa, hearing and practicing it were ever made foremost. But Zhao's talent and understanding are dark and limited; though repeatedly graced with instruction and analogies, I still harbored vast doubts. In ceasing not to exhaust my foolishness, it seemed as if I attained some understanding. Yet, not having been first proclaimed by the eminent and superior, I dared not decide for myself. Unfortunately, Master Kumārajīva passed away, leaving me nowhere to consult, which has been my perpetual grief. Yet Your Majesty's sagely virtue does not stand alone: you uniquely shared a spiritual accord with Master Kumārajīva; seeing him face-to-face, the Dao was present, fully and swiftly plumbing his heart's core. Hence you could stir that profound breeze to instruct the degenerate world. One day, I was favored to receive [your] "Letter in Reply to Marquis of Ancheng Yao Song's Inquiry on the Ultimate Purport of Non-Action": "Why is this? Now, that sentient beings long transmigrate through birth and death is entirely due to clinging to desire. If desire ceases in the mind, then there is no longer birth and death. Birth and death having ceased, the spirit is submerged in dark silence, matching its virtue with empty space: this is called nirvāṇa. Since it is called nirvāṇa, how can there be room for any name within it!" This indeed exhausts the beauty of subtle words and reaches the utmost of discourses beyond forms! Were one's way not equal to Mañjuśrī and one's compassionate virtue not comparable to the [Śākya] clan, who could proclaim the profound Dao and serve as a fortress and moat for the Dharma, causing the Great Teaching to unfold again after being rolled up, and the dark purport to shine anew after sinking away? Pondering and savoring it attentively, I could not set it aside for a moment. Joy and awakening mingled in my bosom; I had no leisure even to keep my hands from dancing. How could this merely be a sublime model for the present era? It will indeed serve as a ford and bridge for countless kalpas! Yet the sagely intention is deep and mysterious, its principles subtle and words concise. It can instruct those advanced persons and rescue eminent scholars, but I fear that those who drift along with words and topics might not fully fathom Your Majesty's thought. Hoping to emulate the composition of the Ten Wings on Confucius's Changes—not out of greed for voluminous prose, but seeking thereby to illuminate and display the dark purport—I have ventured to compose the Treatise on Nirvāṇa Being Nameless. The treatise contains nine objections and ten expositions, broadly gathering from the myriad sūtras and relying on proofs to establish analogies, in order reverently to expound Your Majesty's purport of namelessness. How could I claim to have reached the spiritual mind or plumbed its distant and true hits? It is merely to deliberate on the profound portal and make it known to students. The final chapter of the treatise states: 'When the various masters explain the paramārtha-satya, all say it is open, void, and silent, without any sage. I have always thought this was excessively divergent and contrary to human sentiment. If there is no sage, who is it that knows non-being?' Truly it is as the luminous edict states! Truly it is as the luminous edict states! As for the Dao, it is shadowy and indistinct, yet within it there is an essence. If there were no sage, who would roam with the Dao? Recently, students all hesitated before the gate of the Dao, distressed over this purport, harboring doubt all day without anyone able to correct them. Fortunately encountering your superior verdict, the followers of the lineage are enlightened; the companions who knock at the gate abundantly ascend into the profound chamber. This can truly be called the Wheel of Dharma turning a second time in Jambudvīpa, and the light of the Dao reflecting again across a thousand years! Now, the purport of composing this treatise of exposition is to examine thoroughly the essence of nirvāṇa being nameless, silencing that openness and repelling discourses that step outside reality. The items are listed to the left, reverently presented herewith. If it accords even slightly with the sagely intention, I pray an edict be given to preserve it; if there be any error, I humbly await your instruction. Sengzhao states. Niyue, nihuan, and niepan: these three names appeared at different times before and after; this is merely the difference between the dialects of Chu and the Central States. Nirvāṇa (niepan) is the correct sound.