虛堂和尚語錄 10.47

10.47

The kalpa fire once smelted his iron-skinned face;
never did he let his price be low.
At times he revealed the message beyond the clouds;
his rugged style bewildered all who arrived.
This man all his life shouldered his plank, chewed ginger and sipped vinegar—
even the Buddha's eye could hardly spy him out.
Dwelling as abbot on two mountains, at times halting and at times advancing,
neither sacred nor profane could distinguish him.
In modest retirement he entirely preserved his final years;
following conditions, he responded to the ancient mortar.
Before the clappers were taken up, the great star fell first.
Now the relics overflow, and the jade is opened to this casket.
Although we no longer see his voice and countenance, what can be done about his original face that still remains?
Do you see it?”
He held up the bone and said, “It cannot be contained within the stūpa;
in the land without yin or yang, clouds and thunder arise.”