弘明集 12.108

12.108

On the fifth day of the fourth month of the third year of the Long'an reign period [399 CE], the śramaṇas of the capital and others bow their heads and address [Your Excellency]: When a supreme principle is made manifest and has an ultimate master, then those who look up to it do so with utmost devotion; when principle tallies and spirit is merged, then the immersion is all the deeper. Therefore, at the plain house of the Father of the Ni [Mount] (Confucius), the Yan clan shed flowing tears. Was it not because the Dao was exalted and virtue was abundant that they proceeded straight ahead, forgetting to turn back? Although we, poor monks, are ordinary men whose conduct is deficient, in reverently practicing the Three Jewels our love comes naturally from heaven, and our faith did not wait upon study. Yet as we daily diminish our merit and virtue, we stroke our chests and sigh with increasing anguish. We rely upon the sagely lord and wise king to personally promote his Dao once more, allowing those who dwell in the mountains to gallop ahead in their vocation, and those beside the city walls to live in leisure and unobstructed ease. Through the vast sprinkling of imperial grace, even withered trunks receive lush prosperity. However, the relation of śramaṇas to the secular world is like that of an empty boat moored in a vast ravine: they come without regard to mundane affairs, and they retreat by availing themselves of leisure; within the four seas, they ultimately have no dwelling of their own. When the state is in turmoil, they shake their khakkhara and travel alone; when the Dao permeates, they gather together joyfully. That they have arrived from afar has a genuine reason. They intend to shake up the great guidelines in this degenerate age and unfold their sincere hearts for a hundred generations. Yet recently, we have repeatedly received prefectural directives demanding registers of names, pressing and urgent in the extreme. Not comprehending your lofty intention, we rustic men are easily frightened, and our harbored anxieties are truly profound. As a result, practitioners of dhyāna have lost their stillness, and diligent strivers have abandoned their practice; we have lost our spirit and depleted our breath, staying awake until dawn, desolate and not knowing how to find peace. We prostrately hope that the illustrious duke will fan the winds of the Tang (Emperor Yao) from above and await the white-footed ones below, so that those who cherish the Dao may find deliverance and those with aspiration may be kept whole; then, even if our bodies perish and our forms expire, we shall dedicate our lives right here. Since the celestial hearing is so distant, our situation may not have been fully presented. We respectfully submit this for your hearing, and prostrately await your response with trembling breath.