虛堂和尚語錄 10.66

10.66

Turning his back on the Dharma hall, putting on straw sandals and departing,
the patch-robed monk cuts off righteousness and forgets sentiment.
Observing direction, one knows where he goes;
going there, he does not arrive at any direction.
Turning into the furnace and bellows of Nanshan,
he does not guard his own numinous radiance.
A few stalks of dry bones prop up heaven and earth;
a single flat boat carries the Great Tang.