虛堂和尚語錄 2.153

2.153

At the informal gathering for concluding the summer retreat: "The nose-ropes of each and every one have been slipped off; wagging tails and shaking heads in the autumn wind's shadow. Though Old An was adept at tracking footprints, in the end they are hard to find; Jizi only knew how to forget himself under the tree, but when did he ever understand herding the ox on the open ground clearly exposed? Clouded mountains fill the eyes, sated and snoring; wild grass stretches to the sky—no need for a short flute to urge the return, even the thousand sages have no place to seek them. Suddenly Lord Fu comes out and says: 'You men of horns and heads, leaning on this tree's shade for ninety days, have never rendered half a hoof's worth of service, yet you have trampled into pieces a clod of mud belonging to my permanent property—how can you be so merry?' This mountain monk cannot but deliver a turning word on their behalf."