緇門警訓 9.52

9.52

The Golden Crow rages in fury, blazing as if in flight;
Fiery clouds emit scorching heat, billowing like steam.
Rivers and lakes compete in boiling; grasses and trees are half withered and yellow.
True gold melts away; great boulders are about to crack.
Fierce tigers pant for breath; flood dragons droop their saliva.
Hovels have doors of thatch; houses have not a single tile.
Sleeping without mats or curtains; weeping with many children.
Weeding the sprouts without wearying; baling water, forgetting exhaustion.
Faces smeared pitch-black; backs splitting like turtle shells.
Ah, you sons of Śākya!
You ought to examine this.
You eat without plowing; you wear clothes without raising silkworms.
Your houses have painted halls and airy chambers;
Your baths have pure streams and winding pools.
Curtains hang kingfisher feathers; mats spread lapis lazuli.
Idly seeking springs and stones, walking and sitting at will;
Quietly facing the wind and moon, singing and delighting in yourselves.
Turn your head to look back at the affairs of the human world;
Drinking water, you should know when the season can be crossed.
Do not harbor resentment toward the Wind Count,
Nor furiously rage against the Rain Master!