宏智禪師廣錄 8.31

8.31

Where the wooden child chants, the withered returns to spring; / Right here is adorned the forest of merit and virtue. / Lowering the hands down the sheer cliff, one knows the path is alive; / Hiding the body in the kalpa of emptiness, one fears the dynamic sinks. / When consciousness-waves have not yet churned, there is not much to it; / Not hanging on lips and skin, there is a single sound. / Buddhas and ancestors accord with mind beyond words and traces; / Lighting incense and sitting purely, search it out together.