續高僧傳 19.20

19.20

釋智周。字圓朗。姓趙氏。其先徐州下邳人。有晉過江居于婁縣之曲阜也。然其神用超邈彰於青綺。小學年中違親許道。師事法流水寺滔法師。為力生也。滔乃吳國冠冕。釋門梁棟。周服勤左右分陰請業。受具之後志在博聞。時大莊嚴䂃法師者。義府經笥道映雄伯。負帙淹留專功一紀。究盡端漄更同寒水。自金陵失御。安步東歸。本住伽藍開弘四實。學侶同萃言晤成群。但久厭城傍早狎丘壑。遂超然高舉。晦迹於馬鞍山慧聚寺。仁智斯合終焉不渝。而止水致鑒問道彌結。舊齒晚秀咸請出山濟益道俗不拘小節。乃又從之。橫經者溢坐。杖氣者泥首。炎德既銷僧徒莫聚。乃翻飛舊谷。又遭土崩瓜剖。順時違難汎然無繫。寂動斯亡。武德五年七月五日遘疾。終於大萊城南武州刺史薛仕通舍。春秋六十有七。其年十一月二十日。賊退途靜。弟子法度等。奉迎神柩歸于本山。當時人物凋疎塋隧未理。以貞觀四年二月十五日。弟子慧滿等。於寺之西嶺改設圓墳。惟周風情閑澹識悟淹遠。容止可觀進退可度。量包山海調逸烟霞。得喪一心慈惻萬類。窮通不易其慮。喜慍不形于色。崇尚先達提獎後進。道俗聞望咸取則焉。加以篤愛蟲篆尤工草隷。傍觀圖史大善篇什。與兄寶愛俱沐法流。陳氏二方俱馳聲績。講成論小招提玄章涅槃大品等。各十餘遍。兼造殿閣。門廊周匝壯麗當陽。彌勒丈六夾紵并諸侍衛。又晉司空何充所造七龕泥象。年代綿遠聖儀毀落。乃迎還流水。漆布丹青彫繢綺華。允開信表法。迴向寺釋道恭曰。余以擁腫拳曲不中規繩。而匠石輟斤忽垂顧眄。賞激流連殆逾三紀。披雲對月。賦曹陸之詩。跂石班荊。辯肇融之論。故人安在。仰孤帳而荒涼。景行不追。望長松而咽絕。懼陵谷易遷竹素難久。託徽猷於貞紺。揚清塵於不朽。其銘曰。五蔭城墎六賊丘陵。膠固愛網縈迴業繩。雄猛調御慈悲勃興。危塗倏靜穢海俄澄。八樹潛暉五師係軌。纂此遺訓克應開士。皎潔戒珠波瀾定水。有道有德知足知止。學總群經思深言外。樂說河寫飡風雲會。七眾關揵四部襟帶。振綱頹網繄其是賴。世途淪喪適化江湄。去來任物隱顯從時。坏瓶何愛淨土為期。有生有滅何喜何悲。窀關昔隧封興舊隴。春郊草平故山松拱。林昏鳥思徑深寒擁。妙識歸真玄坰虛奉。

Śramaṇa Zhi’zhou, whose courtesy name was Yuanlang, had the secular surname Zhao. His ancestors were natives of Xiapi in Xuzhou; during the Jin dynasty, they crossed the Yangtze River and resided at Qufu in Lou County. His spiritual capability was transcendent and far-reaching, becoming manifest even when he was young. In the years of his elementary studies, he left his parents and devoted himself to the Way, serving Dharma Master Tao of Faliushui Monastery as his pupil. Tao was the cap and crown of the state of Wu, a pillar and beam of the Buddhist order. Zhou served him diligently by his side, seizing every moment to request instruction. After receiving full ordination, he set his aspiration on broad learning. At that time, Dharma Master Jue of Dazhuangyan Monastery was a treasury of doctrine and a repository of scriptures, his Way outshining the foremost masters. Carrying his book-satchel, Zhou lingered there, devoting twelve years of effort; he plumbed the ultimate depths, pure and clear like cold water. When Jinling lost its rule, he paced leisurely back to the east. At his original monastery, he widely promulgated the four truths; students gathered in crowds, their discussions filling the hall. Yet having long been weary of the city's edge and having early been fond of hills and valleys, he transcended worldly ties and withdrew to Huiju Monastery on Ma'an Mountain. The benevolent and the wise thus found harmony here, unchanging to the end. As still water reflects clearly, those seeking the Way converged in ever greater numbers. Elders and promising youngsters alike implored him to leave the mountain to benefit both clergy and laity, unbound by minor conventions. He therefore complied again. Those who held scriptures filled the seats; those who had been arrogant bowed their heads in humility. But after the virtue of the Chen dynasty faded away, the monastic assembly dispersed, and he flew back to his old valley. Then he encountered the collapse of the state and the dismemberment of the territory. Following the times and avoiding hardship, he drifted along without attachment; stillness and movement were both forgotten. On the fifth day of the seventh month in the fifth year of Wude (622 CE), he fell ill and passed away at the residence of Xue Shitong, the prefectural governor of Wuzhou, south of Dalie City, at the age of sixty-seven. On the twentieth day of the eleventh month of that year, when bandits retreated and the roads grew peaceful, his disciple Fadu and others escorted the sacred casket back to his home mountain. At that time, people and circumstances were desolate, and the tomb had not yet been properly arranged. On the fifteenth day of the second month in the fourth year of Zhenguan (630 CE), his disciple Huiman and others built a new round tumulus on the western ridge of the monastery. Zhou’s demeanor was serene and detached, his discernment deep and far-reaching. His deportment was exemplary, his conduct standard. His magnanimity encompassed mountains and seas; his spirit drifted leisurely among mists and clouds. Gain and loss were of one mind to him; compassion and pity embraced all kinds. Difficulties or success did not alter his thoughts; joy or anger did not show on his face. He revered former masters and guided the younger generation; both monastics and laity held him in high esteem and took him as their model. In addition, he had a great love for the seal scripts and was especially skilled in cursive and clerical script; he also perused historical charts and was very adept at poetry. Together with his elder brother Bao'ai, he was bathed in the Dharma stream; the two brothers from the Chen realm spread their fame and achievements together. He lectured on the Chengshi lun, the Xiao Zhaoti, the Xuanzhang, the Mahāparinirvāṇa Sūtra, the Pañcaviṃśatisāhasrikā Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra, and other texts, each more than ten times. He also constructed halls and pavilions; cloistered corridors surrounded them, magnificent and facing south. He made a sixteen-foot dry-lacquer statue of Maitreya along with various attendants. Furthermore, regarding the seven niches of clay statues made by He Chong, the Minister of Works of the Jin dynasty, which had grown ruined over the passage of time, he brought them back to Liushui Monastery, decorating them with lacquer cloth, cinnabar, blue, and ornate painted patterns, thereby fully displaying faith and illustrating the Dharma. Śramaṇa Daogong of Huixiang Monastery said: 'I, being gnarled and crooked like useless wood, was unfit for compass and rule, yet the master carpenter halted his axe and suddenly bestowed his gaze on me, praising and inspiring me for over three decades. Parting the clouds to face the moon, we composed poems like Cao Zhi and Lu Ji; sitting on rocks and spreading rushes, we debated the treatises of Sengzhao and Sengrong. Where is my old friend now? Looking up at the solitary curtain, all is bleak; his illustrious conduct can no longer be followed, and looking toward the tall pines, I choke with grief. Fearing that hills and valleys will easily change and bamboo and silk are fragile, I commit his fine virtue to the dark stele, raising his pure dust to immortality.' The inscription reads: / The five aggregates form the city walls, the six thieves make the hills. / Tightly bound by the net of attachment, coiled round by the rope of karma. / The heroic Subduer arose with boundless compassion; / The perilous path suddenly grew still, the defiled ocean instantly cleared. / In the eight trees the radiance was concealed; the five masters succeeded in line. / Inheriting these bequeathed instructions, he was truly a Bodhisattva. / Bright and pure as the precept jewel, rolling with waves like dhyāna water; / Possessed of the Way and virtue, knowing sufficiency and knowing where to halt. / His learning embraced the scriptures; his thoughts went deep beyond words. / Joyous eloquence poured like a river; drinking the wind, disciples gathered like clouds. / The bolt and bar for the seven assemblies, the collar and belt for the four groups; / Raising the fallen net, they truly relied on him. / When the worldly path collapsed, he moved to teach by the river’s shore. / Coming and going at the behest of things, hiding or appearing in accord with the times. / Why cherish an earthen vessel? The Pure Land is the goal. / With arising and ceasing, what joy or sorrow is there? / The grave of the past is closed; a mound is raised upon the old tumulus. / The spring plain’s grass is level; the old mountain’s pines clasp their hands. / The forest darkens with the birds’ longing; the deep path is gripped by cold. / The wondrous consciousness returns to the True; the dark wilderness receives him in vain.