人天眼目 2.160

2.160

Holding the Moye blade horizontally, blazing with brilliant light;
Facing enemies from the eight directions, vast and boundless.
Dragons and snakes both conceal themselves, their scales shedding;
Thunder and rain fully deployed, their stratagems fall into disarray.
Buddhas and patriarchs dot it as dripping sounds;
Rivers and mountains bound together are all fragrant.
On the return journey, solitary and desolate, the outskirts are distant;
The Persian who lost his ship falls into the land of Chu.