佛祖歷代通載 14.45

14.45

（三十　庚辰）　十六年逸士劉軻。游廬山之黃石岩。遇高僧異之。因為記曰。古老有言。太極之氣積成山嶽洩為川瀆。然則匡阜之境。其大者乎。庚辰歲山客劉軻來拾怪異。自麓至頂却下半里餘。次于黃石岩。岩中有棲禪子。不知其幾臘。乃蹟其輕重頗見其宅心之地。及問其住年。但以手指松桂曰。毫髮我植今環人臂。烏飛兔走吾復何齒。矧卯戌之昏旦。霜炎之凍灰。生落之榮顇。去留之沿泝。雖云云自彼。而於我蔑如也。於戲句非岩房峭絕僧行孤峙。則人境兩失其宜也。復何言哉。觀夫雲煙雜乎履舄。嵐靄生於襟袖。群形浩擾併人眸子。每煙雨初霽山光澄練。泠泠仙語如在耳右。況又聳凌競上冥冥。焉知不能與洪崖接袂浮丘連駕。盈縮造化吐納顥氣。絕慚顏於厚面。遠喧卑於臊穢乎。不得而然者蓋鉤也餌也。名為利鉤。利為名餌。吞鉤食餌手足羈鎖。彼焉得跳躍於此乎。夫禪子脫去桎梏四支宣展。動與雲無心。靜將石何機。物我一致端邪徑塞。僕所謂非斯人不能住斯境也。禪師生宜春。姓黃氏名常進。以師久住。遂以其姓易其岩名焉。

(Thirty; gengchen) In the sixteenth year, the retired scholar Liu Ke traveled to Huangshi Rock on Mount Lu, where he met an eminent monk and was amazed by him. He therefore wrote a record, saying: 'The elders of old said: the breath of the Supreme Ultimate accumulates to form mountains and peaks, and discharges to form streams and rivers. If so, then is not the territory of Mount Kuang among the greatest of them? In the year of gengchen, the mountain traveler Liu Ke came to gather strange and wondrous things. Ascending from the base to the summit and then descending back down for more than half a li, he halted at Huangshi Rock. Within the rock cliff there was a practitioner residing in Chan; I do not know how many monastic years he had. Examining his bearing, light or grave, one could clearly see the dwelling place of his mind. When asked about how many years he had lived there, he merely pointed with his finger at the pine and cassia trees, saying: "When I planted them they were as fine as hairs; now they encircle a man's arm. As the sun flies and the moon runs, what more should I count? Much less the dusk and dawn of morning and evening, the frost and heat of freezing and ash, the flourishing and withering of growth and fall, the going and staying of sailing against or with the current. Though people chatter of these from their side, to me they are nothing at all." Ah! Were it not for the precipitous isolation of the cliff dwelling and the lofty solitude of the monk's practice, both person and place would lose their fitness. What more is there to say? Looking upon the clouds and mists mingling around his sandals, the mountain vapor rising from his lapels and sleeves, all bustling forms converge before the eyes. Whenever the mist and rain have just cleared and the mountain light is clear as silk, the tinkling fairy voices seem right beside one's ears. Furthermore, soaring aloft into the obscure heights, how do we know he cannot join sleeves with Hongya or drive abreast with Fuqiu, expanding and contracting with nature, inhaling and exhaling the primal ether, completely free from the shameful faces of the brazen and far removed from the clamor and vulgarity of the foul? That people cannot achieve this is due to hooks and bait. Name is the hook for gain, and gain is the bait for name. Swallowing the hook and eating the bait, their hands and feet are shackled; how could they leap about in this place? Now, this Chan practitioner has cast off his fetters and stretched out his four limbs. In movement, he is free of intention like the clouds; in stillness, what scheme could he share with the rocks? Object and self are one; straight and crooked paths are blocked. This is what I mean by: unless one is this kind of man, one cannot dwell in this kind of place. The Chan master was born in Yichun, with the family name Huang and the given name Changjin. Because the master lived there for a long time, the name of the rock was changed to his surname.'