佛果圜悟禪師碧巖錄 8.41

8.41

Touzi, Touzi! (Clearly. In all the world there is no old fellow this honest. Corrupting the sons and daughters of good families.) / The wheel of his dynamic function encounters no obstruction. (How can anyone do anything to him? There's still a bit.)
Letting go of one, he catches two; (Swapping your eyes. Where do you see Touzi?)
The same over there, the same right here. (Coming like this, one gets the staff; coming not like this, one gets the staff. Ācārya, take his place and strike!)
Pitiable are the countless tide-players: (Letting out one or a half in the chan grove; letting out these two fellows, patch-robed monks across the land want to go like this.)
In the end they fall into the tide and die. (What a pity. How can they fail to get out of this snare? Do not speak of sorrow to sorrowful people.)
If they should suddenly come alive, (The meditation seat trembles. Scaring this mountain monk to death! Also retreating three thousand miles.) / The hundred rivers would flow backward with a roaring surge! (Dangerous! Lingering in thought is in vain. This mountain monk dares not open his mouth. Old Touzi must snap his staff in two before he is done!)
Surge (glossed with the fanqie gu-huo, meaning the sound of rushing water).