緇門警訓 6.40

6.40

Yangshan rice, Yangshan rice! / Grain after grain like pearls, shining like silver. / Those who eat must know the difficulty of its source; / Let me briefly hold it up for you all to see: / Early spring on eastern mounds and western fields, / Plowing men and provision-bearing women are cold and hungry. / As the earth's rich humors stir and farming begins, / The ox's neck develops sores yet still drags the plow. / In summer the sprouts would tassel but have not yet formed grain; / In the rainless sky on four sides there is only a scorching sun. / Backs withered, faces cracked, sweat pouring over chests, / Weeding and hoeing, they only fear that weeds will sprout. / In late autumn, ripe rice resembles yellow clouds; / Reaping by day and pestling by night, sweet, bitter, and toil. / The village beadles urge and press urgently for the royal tax; / Official debts and private loans all fall upon their bodies. / Official debts unpaid, they are whipped and beaten; / Private debts unpaid, they sell their fields and homes. / How often have parents, wives, and children eaten their fill? / Yet every household sets aside rice to offer for fasting gruel. / The abbot, an old monk, begs from door to door; / The mendicant converts and collects by grains and pinches. / Hands calloused, feet bruised, they dare not shrink from toil; / Combed by the wind and bathed by the rain, when did they ever rest? / At the fifth watch, the doors of the cloud hall are still shut; / In the common-offering kitchen, workers rise early, / Only anxious lest the porridge and rice for the pure assembly be late. / Day after day, morning after morning, it is entirely like this. / Rice-water across the floor congeals like fat; / Removing the coarse and keeping the fine, they carry firewood to boil. / Boiling soup, smoky flames, cauldrons and pots searing hot; / Performing duties and exhausting strength, truly weary and spent. / The long wooden board's sound ends, the wooden fish roars; / Sitting upright on the Chan seat, holding the bowl to receive it. / Inquiring closely into the effort of transforming raw into cooked, / I fear it may be hard for you, ācāryas, to swallow. / It did not come from the Fragrance-Accumulated World (Gandharadhika), / Nor did ghosts and spirits offer your meal. / From one spoonful, one ladle, up to one pātra, / All is the wealth of donors seeking fortune. / The karmadāna strikes the mallet, sounding like a bell; / In reciting the ten Buddha-names, some are sluggish to join. / If serving is slightly late, anger immediately arises; / Within the second precept, mindfulness is utterly forgotten. / The ancients were all busy with studying the Way, / Everywhere consulting kalyāṇamitras, roaming all quarters. / Tree bark and grass leaves served to boil in their cauldrons; / Did they ever have such rice to fill their hungry bellies? / A hundred years of time is like a dream or phantom; / The effort of inquiring and asking should be prepared early. / If the mind-ground is not yet clear and distinct, / Even a Buddha would find it hard to digest the rice of Yangshan.