勅修百丈清規 8.67

8.67

Fang bows nine times. In reply to the Former Upādhyāya of Zhizhe, Elder Brother Master Yunweng (before his desk): Since Master Lu of Fuyan untied his official sash, I, Fang, have been preoccupied with many trifles and could not take advantage of convenient occasions to convey my inquiries; I have only been extremely anxious in my longing. You have sent splendid and fine verses along with precious fruits; for your kind favor and bestowal, I feel deeply grateful and comforted. The humble writings and grand compositions sent to you by the Surveillance Commissioner, Lord Sunzhai, are well-rounded, clear as pearls and moist as jade; they are plain and unadorned yet high as mountains and deep as waters, far beyond what my decrepit and dull capacity could ever hope to attain. Folding your lapels in reverence, you possess the capacity to be famed in your generation and embrace the talent of a vessel for the ancestral temple; in this Way you have refined and tempered deeply and meticulously, and when expressed in words, no mark of axe or chisel remains. Carrying the south-pointing compass, one travels to the four quarters without becoming lost; holding up the bright mirror, one surveys the myriad things without being deluded. Managing the household, cultivating oneself, governing the state, and bringing peace to the realm—in all these you act with ease and mastery. With nine promotions in a single day, one can await them while leaning against a horse. Perhaps this pine-harmony may be brought forward, begging for your kind mediation to add weight to it. I, Fang, have lived here for over a year, and in all matters I abide in forbearance. We encountered drought and poor harvests; the harvest here, compared to other places, is only just manageable. I only wished to attend to one or two construction projects, yet it is like losing an oar midstream, leaving me troubled and unable to put it out of mind. In my wretched infirmity, from summer to autumn, I have daily been occupied with medicine packets, and even now I have not yet recovered. You, my Dharma brother, have retired in tranquility to cultivate lofty detachment, quite enough to look down disdainfully on the dust-struggles of today as truly shameful. Two years ago, Huiji of Baizhang once sealed and sent the old pure rules from that place. Reading through them, the errors therein were extremely numerous; we agreed to jointly revise and edit them, but now east and west are separated, and the recent discussions have also come to naught. What Pingyan composed is in many respects either too broad or too brief, lacking suitability. My initial thesis was that praying for the imperial longevity should come first, while the establishment of offices such as the prior and the scribe should embellish Dazhi's original text, using small characters to annotate the origins and developments of South Scribe Shichuang at the end, so that the present officers of the monastic grove may know where their duties derive from. In general, in the ancient rules, the Tang prose consists mostly of parallel couplets, which ought to be completely reworked, submitted in a memorial, and printed and promulgated as the institutions of a generation. Huiji once agreed that we should bring you, my dear brother, to Hangzhou to handle it together. Now the worldly times being as they are, how can our intentions be fulfilled? What is your lofty opinion? The two gāthās in your letter I do not dare to answer, but shall cherish them forever as tokens of friendship. Unable to pay obeisance before your seat, I pray for your long life and protection, and that an imperial summons will soon promote you. My prayer is earnest but words fall short. Fang bows nine times in reply. During the Xianchun era, Nanping hosted a remarkable gathering for a time: Brother Yishan and I, your younger brother—could there only be the two of us, together with Brother Yunwu, joining in discussion without a third shadow? Those events are past; fifty years have suddenly been compressed into a single instant—is it a dream, or not a dream? At that time, after the snow on West Lake, the various peaks stood like jade, the old scenery vivid as before. The vibrant spirit of the two brothers flashed like intense sunlight—was it a scene, or not a scene? Standing still for a long time, only the one left behind to die feels unending grief and sorrow. Wanting to edit and correct the ancient rules to establish the institutions of a generation—who shares this heart today? On the tenth day of the twelfth month, first year of the Yanyou era (1314), snow clearing by the eastern window, written by your younger brother of Nanping, Yuanxi.