佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄 1.40

1.40

雪竇是作家。於古人難咬難嚼難透難見節角誵訛處。頌出教人見。不妨奇特。雪竇識得法眼關棙子。又知慧超落處。更恐後人向法眼言句下。錯作解會。所以頌出這僧如此問。法眼如是答。便是江國春風吹不起。鷓鴣啼在深花裏。此兩句只是一句。且道雪竇意在什麼處。江西江南多作兩般解會道。江國春風吹不起。用頌汝是慧超。只這箇消息。直饒江國春風也吹不起。鷓鴣啼在深花裏。用頌諸方商量這話。浩浩地。似鷓鴣啼在深花裏相似。有什麼交涉。殊不知。雪竇這兩句。只是一句。要得無縫無罅。明明向汝道。言也端語也端。蓋天蓋地。他問如何是佛。法眼云。汝是慧超。雪竇道。江國春風吹不起。鷓鴣啼在深花裏。向這裏薦得去。可以丹霄獨步。爾若作情解。三生六十劫。雪竇第三第四句。忒殺傷慈。為人一時說破。超禪師當下大悟處。如三級浪高魚化龍。癡人猶戽夜塘水。禹門三級浪。孟津即是龍門。禹帝鑿為三級。今三月三。桃花開時。天地所感。有魚透得龍門。頭上生角昂鬃鬣尾。拏雲而去。跳不得者點額而回。癡人向言下咬嚼。似戽夜塘之水求魚相似。殊不知。魚已化為龍也。端師翁有頌云。一文大光錢。買得箇油糍。喫向肚裏了。當下不聞飢。此頌極好。只是太拙。雪竇頌得極巧。不傷鋒犯手。舊時慶藏主愛問人。如何是三級浪高魚化龍。我也不必在。我且問爾。化作龍去。即今在什麼處。

Xuedou is an expert. At those places in the ancients that are difficult to bite, chew, penetrate, and see, the intricate knots and tangled obscurities, he composes a verse eulogy to show people; it is exceptionally extraordinary. Xuedou recognised Fayan's pivot and also knew where Huichao landed. Furthermore, fearing that later people would make erroneous interpretations under Fayan's words and phrases, he therefore versified this monk's asking thus and Fayan's replying thus: it is precisely 'The spring wind of the river country cannot stir it up; partridges cry amidst the deep blossoms.' These two lines are just a single line. But tell me: what was Xuedou's intention? In Jiangxi and Jiangnan people mostly make two kinds of interpretations, saying: 'The spring wind of the river country cannot stir it up' eulogises 'You are Huichao'—just this message, even the spring wind of the river country cannot stir it up. 'Partridges cry amidst the deep blossoms' eulogises the discussions of this topic in various quarters, surging clamorously, just like partridges crying amidst the deep blossoms. What connection is there? Little do they realise that these two lines of Xuedou are just a single line, needing to be seamless and crackless, clearly saying to you: the words are proper and the phrases are proper, covering heaven and covering earth. He asked, 'What is the Buddha?' Fayan said, 'You are Huichao.' Xuedou says: 'The spring wind of the river country cannot stir it up; partridges cry amidst the deep blossoms.' If you can comprehend it here, you can walk alone in the crimson dawn. If you make an emotional interpretation, it will take three lifetimes and sixty kalpas. Xuedou's third and fourth lines are exceedingly excessive in their compassion, laying it bare all at once for people. Monk Chao's instant of great awakening is like 'Three tiers of waves rise high, and the fish turns into a dragon; foolish men are still bailing out the night pond's water.' At the three tiers of waves at Yu's Gate—Mengjin is the Dragon Gate, chiseled by Emperor Yu into three tiers—now, on the third day of the third month, when the peach blossoms bloom, moved by heaven and earth, there are fish that penetrate the Dragon Gate: horns grow on their heads, their manes and tails bristling, and they grasp the clouds and depart. Those who cannot leap turn back with bruised foreheads. Foolish men chew under the words, which is like bailing out the water of a night pond to look for fish. Little do they realise that the fish has already transformed into a dragon. Grandfather Master Duan had a eulogy: 'With one large bright coin, / I bought an oily rice-cake. / Having eaten it into my belly, / Immediately I feel no hunger.' This eulogy is extremely fine, only too artless. Xuedou versifies it extremely skillfully, without wounding the blade or injuring the hand. In former days, Chief of the Canon Qing loved to ask people: 'What is: Three tiers of waves rise high, and the fish turns into a dragon?' I need not be in that; let me just ask you: Having transformed into a dragon and departed, right now, where is it?