虛堂和尚語錄 7.196

7.196

Heaven's pipes arise from inner stillness,
The peak is high, reaching far above the clouds.
What comes is not heard by the eyes;
Where there is nothing suffices for the mind to hear.
Rushes are cold, the Chan robe worn out;
The window is empty, moonlight divides in shadows.
The great achievement in the end does not rule;
Let it speak on for itself.