宏智禪師廣錄 6.36

6.36

One who has truly attained the patch-robed monk's grasp does not congeal and does not flow, is not pure and is not mixed. Moving through dry places, one turns the pivot; entering noisy times, one possesses the eye. Penetration and transformation intersect and thoroughly pervade, distinct and unobstructed. The moon follows the current; the wind flattens the grass. Brilliant and flowing, in the end they do not blend with me. Therefore it is said: 'Things of diverse kinds are not uniform, yet there is a path of transcendence.' In the season of responding, you are permitted to go forth like this. Atop the hundred grasses, gathering things up and returning—what should you do? Attaining the seat and draping the robe, look for yourself afterward.