宏智禪師廣錄 8.194

8.194

Wondrous, it is not coarse;
Serene, it is not turbid.
Wondrous and serene, it illuminates;
Pure and bright, leaving no trace.
Cloudy mountains are the host;
Water and moon have no root.
Sitting lean in a single silence;
Emptily harmonizing the six gates.
Apertures make the pipes of the wind;
Flowers embrace the bounty of spring.
Successively inheriting this matter,
Sons and grandsons generation after generation.