明覺禪師語錄 2.51

2.51

The old man of Zhongyan is eighty-one; / Spending ten years at leisure, aiding with words and brush. / Even if one boasts of one’s strides at this very time, / How can one avoid being laughed at in old age on another day? / On another day, who will let flow dynamic shifts? / At midnight, the cold toad-moon rises on the water’s surface. / Whence comes another pure radiance? / Raising the eyes, stars scatter and turn wildly. / A song, a song, painfully searched out; / Presented from afar to Yun the Chan practitioner, ashamed of its standard. / Pursuing the ancient style at the seat of Huangmei, / Singing aloud, one naturally knows heaven and earth are narrow.