宏智禪師廣錄 8.163

8.163

Leaves fall and the mountain's bones are lean;
Waters recede and sand ridges rise high.
A fishing boat plays in the river's sun;
A single leaf floating in the soft red dust.
What is before the eyes is not vulgar;
The mind of a person of the Way is as if empty.
Stepping forward from the top of the bannerpole,
Clouds and waters unfold the family style.