續高僧傳 4.7.4

4.7.4

their lineage of instruction was hindered, leading them to drown in the states of existence. As for doctrines such as the Lokāyata arts of the four elements and the Pradhāna school of the six categories, these have never been spoken of in the Eastern Xia. Were we to translate Laozi's preface, I fear they would consider it a forest of mockery.' Thus it was not translated. Xuanzang, holding that nothing surpassed the sovereign in widely promoting and praising [the Dharma], and that opening conversion and dissemination had been valued since antiquity, submitted another memorial, saying: 'Prostrating, I received the imperial ink decree, which humbly bestowed praise and encouragement; reverently receiving these silken words, my concentrated resolve was profoundly stirred. My learning is shallow and unsubstantial, and having falsely joined the clerical company, I was fortunate to meet with an age when the nine continents are pacified and the four quarters are free of danger. Relying on the imperial spirit, I journeyed far afield; trusting in the state's majesty, I sought out the Way. Though I exerted my foolish sincerity in exhausting the remote and braving perils, collecting wonders and cherishing the desolate truly depended upon the civilizing influence of the court. The sūtras and treatises I obtained have been translated by imperial decree. They now form scrolls, yet they still lack an interpretive preface. I humbly reflect that Your Majesty's sagacious thoughts spread like clouds and your heavenly floridity shines brightly. Your principles encompass the hexagrams and imagery [of the Yijing], and your melodies surpass the Xianchi and Da’ying. You span a thousand ages to send forth your renown; you eclipse a hundred kings to manifest your achievements. I venture to think that the divine power is boundless—without divine thought, one cannot interpret its principles; the sacred teachings are profound and far-reaching—without sacred literary craft, how could one preface their source? Hence I braved your majestic awe, daring to request an inscription, but your imperial gaze was aloft and distant, not deigning to grant pity and consent. Striking my chest and sighing repeatedly, we looked at one another at a loss. I have heard that the sun and moon cling to heaven and share their radiance with doors and windows; rivers and streams demarcate the earth and send their moisture to crags and cliffs. The grand music of Yunhe does not conceal its sounds from the deaf and dull; the rare treasures of gold and jade do not hide their luster from the foolish and blind. Daring to rely on this principle, I entreat you again: I prostrate myself and beg that thunder and rain bend down to grant [favor], and the celestial literature shine upon me, lasting as long as the two poles and hanging aloft like the two luminaries. For then the subtle words of Vulture Peak will rely on the divine brush to spread far and wide, and the profound meaning of the Jetavana will depend on brilliant words to be openly proclaimed. How could it be merely that the humble Indic assembly alone bears this gracious honor? It would also enable the teeming, deluded living beings to transcend the dust of worldly entanglements.' On the day the memorial was presented, an imperial decree granted it. The emperor addressed his son-in-law Gao Luxing, saying: 'You previously asked me to compose an epitaph for your father. Now my energy is not what it used to be. I wish to perform merit by composing a preface for the Master of the Law, but I cannot compose an epitaph. You should understand this.' In the twenty-second year of Zhenguan, he visited Yuhua Palace and summoned Xuanzang to arrive. He asked what scriptures and treatises he was translating. He replied: 'I am currently translating the Yogācāra.' The emperor asked: 'What sage composed it, and what doctrine does it clarify?' After he replied in detail, the emperor ordered that the treatise be brought so he could peruse it himself. He then issued a decree: 'Produce nine copies of the newly translated scriptures and treatises and distribute them to the nine major prefectures of Yong, Luo, Xiang, Yan, Jing, Yang, and so forth.' Xuanzang again requested a title for the scriptures, and the emperor thereupon produced it, titled 'Preface to the Holy Teachings of the Tripiṭaka of the Great Tang'. In the Mingyue Hall, he commanded the scholar of the Hongwen Hall, Shangguan Yi, to read it out before the assembled officials. Its text stated: 'Now, I have heard that the two forms [Heaven and Earth] have images, clearly covering and bearing so as to nurture living beings; the four seasons are formless, imperceptibly alternating cold and heat to transform things. For this reason, in peering into heaven and reflecting on earth, even the common and foolish recognize their beginnings; yet in comprehending yin and penetrating yang, even sages and philosophers rarely exhaust their workings. However, that Heaven and Earth enclose yin and yang and are easy to know is because they possess forms; that yin and yang reside within Heaven and Earth and are difficult to fathom is because they lack forms. Thus we know that when forms are manifest and verifiable, even the foolish are not confused; when forms are hidden and cannot be seen, even the wise remain bewildered. How much more so with the Buddhist Way, which esteems emptiness, rides the profound, and harnesses stillness, vastly saving the myriad kinds and governing the ten directions! Raising its awesome spirit, there is none above; pressing down its divine power, there is none below. At its greatest, it fills the universe; at its finest, it gathers within a hair's breadth. Without extinction and without arising, it traverses a thousand kalpas without growing old; appearing now hidden, now manifest, it exercises a hundred blessings and endures forever. Its wondrous Way condenses the profound—following it, none knows its bounds; its stream of Dharma is deep and tranquil—dipping into it, none fathoms its source. Thus we know that as for the teeming masses and humble commoners, when approaching its purport, how could they be without doubts? Now then, the rise of the great teaching was grounded in the Western Lands; it soared into the Han court as a bright dream and illuminated the eastern regions with flowing compassion. In former times, when the form and traces were divided, before the words sped forth conversion was accomplished; during the era when the constant was manifested, the people looked up to its virtue and knew to comply. But when its shadow darkened and it returned to truth, changing its deportment and passing beyond the world, the golden countenance concealed its color, no longer reflecting the light of the three thousand worlds; the fine image unfolded its portrait, vainly displaying the forty-eight marks. Thereupon the subtle words were broadly disseminated to rescue beings in the three bad destinies; the bequeathed instructions were proclaimed far and wide to guide the multitudes into the ten stages. However, the true teaching is difficult to look up to, and none could unify its purport; perverse learning is easy to follow, and the heterodox and orthodox became entangled therein. Therefore, debates over emptiness and existence took custom as right or wrong; the Greater and Lesser Vehicles alternately flourished or declined with the times. There is the Master of the Law Xuanzang, a leader of the Dharma gates. In youth he cherished purity and acuity, early awakening to the mind of the three types of emptiness; in adulthood he accorded with the divine spirit, first embracing the practice of the four patiences. The wind in the pines and the moon over water are not enough to compare with his pure elegance; fairy dew and bright pearls cannot match his lustrous brilliance. Thus, with his wisdom penetrating without impediment and his spirit fathoming what has not yet taken shape, he transcended the six dusts and soared far beyond, unmatched across a thousand ages. Concentrating his mind on the inner realm, he grieved that the correct Dharma had declined; lodging his thoughts in the profound gate, he lamented that the deep texts were corrupt and erroneous. He wished to distinguish the branches and analyze the principles, broadening what had been heard before; to sever falsehood and continue the true, opening the path for future students. Therefore, yearning for the pure lands, he went to travel through the Western Regions. Braving danger he journeyed far, leaning on his staff on a solitary expedition. The snow accumulated, flying in the morning, so that along the way the ground was lost; startling sand arose in the evening, blinding the sky beyond the void. Across ten thousand leagues of mountains and rivers, he parted the mists and clouds to advance his shadow; through a hundred cycles of cold and heat, he trod through frost and rain to press his footsteps forward. His sincerity was weighty and his toil light; his quest was deep and his resolve reached its goal. He traveled throughout the Western Realms for seventeen years, thoroughly visiting lands of the Way to inquire after the correct teachings. At the Twin Trees and the Eight Rivers, he savored the Way and feasted on the wind; at the Deer Park and Vulture Peak, he gazed upon wonders and revered the extraordinary. He received supreme words from the former sages and took in the true teaching from superior worthies. Exploring the profound and wondrous gate, he thoroughly investigated the esoteric teachings. The path of the One Vehicle and the Five Vinayas galloped through the field of his mind; the texts of the Eight Stores and Three Baskets surged like waves in the sea of his mouth. Thereupon, from the countries he traversed, he brought together essential texts of the Tripiṭaka totaling six hundred and fifty-seven works, to translate and disseminate in the Central Xia and proclaim this supreme endeavor. He drew compassionate clouds from the western extremity and poured down Dharma rain onto the eastern border. The sacred teachings, once deficient, were made complete again; the common people, once sinful, returned to blessings.