宏智禪師廣錄 7.152

7.152

The light of the eyes falls, the breath of grain subsides; / in the six windows the leaping monkey is seen no more.
Empty and desolate, utterly lonely; / let the wild fire burn the broken house as it will.
The departing guest laughs and shakes his head; / the blue falcon snaps the purple silk tether.
Right at such a moment, how should one conduct oneself?
After a long pause, he said: Sitting and cutting off both ends, / at the ancient ferry the wind is calm; when the boat reaches shore, take a careful step forward; / in clear autumn the moon is cold, the crane moves its nest.