明覺禪師語錄 5.91

5.91

Sitting in the empty crags through the clear night,
Mossy paths accumulate deep snow.
Closing the eyes, thinking of the ancients,
Through to the dawn the waning moon sinks.
The boy monk strikes the cold stone chiming-slab;
The ape hangs and the withered branch snaps.
Deep and boundless feeling—
To whom can it be clearly spoken?