廣弘明集 23.26

23.26

仰尋形識。俯探理類。採聲知律。拔茅覩彙。物以靈異。人以智貴。即是神明。觀鑒意謂。爰初在稚。惠心夙察。吐噏芳華。懷抱日月。如彼蘭畹。風過氣越。如彼天倪。雲披光發。求名約身。規操束已。儻或愚世。曾未近似。生以意泰。意管生理。孰是歡慰。程鄭趙李。家畜金繒。才練藝技。驤首揮霍。繁弦綺靡。酒酣調促。意妍服侈。朝迫景曛。夕忌星徙。悠悠白日。凄凄良夜。年往歡流。厭來情捨。苦樂環迴。終卒代謝。棄而更適。生速名借。誰能易奪。何術推移。精粗渾濟。善惡參差。即心有限。在理莫規。試覈眾肆。庶獲所窺。道家躓近。群流缺遠。假名恒誰。傍義豈反。獨有兼忘。因心則善。傷物沈迷。羨彼驅遣。變服京師。振錫廬頂。長別榮冀。永息幽嶺。捨華襲素。去繁就省。人苦其難。子取其靜。昏之視明。即愚成絕。智之秉情。對理斯涅。吝既弗祛。滯亦安拔。子之矜之。為爾苦節。節苦在己。利貞存彼。以明闇逝。以慈累徙。欲以援物。先宜濟此。發軫情違。終然理是。梁鴻携妻。荷蓧見子。鷄黍接人。行歌通已。於世曰高。於道殊鄙。始見法師。獨絕神理。形壽易盡。然諾難判。乘心即化。棄身靡歎。懷道彌厲。景命已晏。矜物辭山。終息旅館。嗚呼哀哉。魂氣隨之。延陵已了。鳶螻同施。漆園所曉。委骸空野。豈異豈矯。幸有遺餘。聊給蟲鳥。嗚呼哀哉。緬念生平。同幽共深。相率經始。偕是登臨。開石通㵎。剔柯疏林。遠眺重疊。近屬嶇嶔。事寡地閑。尋微探賾。何句不研。奚疑弗析。帙舒軸卷。藏拔紙襞。問來答往。俾日餘夕。沮溺耦耕。夷齊共薇。跡同心歡。事異意違。承疾懷灼。聞凶滿悲。孰云不痛。零淚霑衣。嗚呼哀哉。行久節移。地邊氣改。終秋中冬。踰桂投海。永念伊人。思深情倍。俯謝常人。仰愧無待。嗚呼哀哉。

Looking upward, I trace form and consciousness;
looking downward, I plumb principles and categories.
By gathering sounds one knows the musical pitch;
by uprooting the reeds one sees their kind.
Creatures are distinguished by their spiritual nature;
human beings are treasured for their wisdom.
This indeed is the divine illumination,
whereby the mind perceives, scrutinises, and conceptualises.
At the very beginning in childhood,
his wise mind was perceptive from an early age.
Inhaling and exhaling fragrant blossoms,
he harboured the sun and moon within his breast.
Like that acre of orchids,
when the wind passes over, their fragrance wafts far;
like that natural order of Heaven,
when the clouds part, its light bursts forth.
Seeking fame, one restricts the body;
regulating conduct, one binds oneself.
Even in an ignorant generation,
he was never remotely like that.
Life is sustained by a tranquil mind;
the mind governs the principles of life.
Who brought pleasure and comfort?
Cheng Zheng, and the Zhao and Li families.
Their houses were stocked with gold and silk;
their talents were skilled in arts and techniques.
Holding their heads high, they spent lavishly;
their profuse strings sounded gorgeous and delicate.
Flushed with wine, the music grew urgent;
their thoughts were fine, their robes extravagant.
In the morning, pressed by the setting sun;
in the evening, fearful of the shifting stars.
On and on go the bright days;
chilly and desolate are the good nights.
Years pass and pleasures drift away;
when revulsion comes, passions are abandoned.
Suffering and joy cycle around;
in the end they continuously give way to one another.
Discarding this to proceed elsewhere,
life is fleeting, its fame merely borrowed.
Who can alter or wrest it away?
By what art can it be turned aside?
The refined and the coarse are mingled together;
the good and the bad are mixed and uneven.
Since the mind has its limits,
within principle it cannot be fully measured.
Tentatively examining all schools of thought,
he hoped to gain a glimpse [of truth].
The Daoists stumble over the near at hand;
the myriad currents fall short of the far-reaching.
In conventional designations, what remains permanent?
Can supplementary doctrines ever revert [to the truth]?
Only in forgetting both [opposites],
following the heart, does goodness reside.
Pitying living beings sunk in delusion,
he marvelled at their being driven about.
He changed his robes in the capital,
and shook his staff atop Mount Lu.
Parting forever from the glory of hopes,
he rested perpetually on the secluded peak.
Discarding finery to put on plain robes,
leaving behind complexity to seek simplicity.
Others suffered from its hardship;
he chose its tranquility.
When the benighted view the clear,
their very ignorance cuts them off.
When the wise cling to passion,
before principle it becomes defiled.
If stinginess is not dispelled,
how can stagnation ever be eradicated?
You took pity on them,
and practiced bitter discipline for their sake.
Suffering discipline lay with oneself;
beneficial steadfastness was preserved for others.
Through illumination darkness departs;
through compassion burdens are moved away.
Wishing to succour living beings,
one must first rescue these.
Setting out, ordinary sentiments are opposed;
in the end, principle is affirmed.
Liang Hong took his wife along;
the bearer of the weed-basket was seen by his son.
Feeding guests with chicken and millet,
singing while walking, he followed his own way.
In the worldly view this is called lofty;
for the Way, it is utterly mean.
Only when I met the Dharma Master
did I see one extraordinarily peerless in spiritual principle.
Bodily lifespan is easily exhausted;
a pledge made is hard to retract.
Following his heart, he was transformed;
relinquishing his body, he voiced no lament.
Cherishing the Way, he grew ever more earnest;
his destined years were already late.
Pitying creatures, he took leave of the mountain,
and at last rested in an inn.
Alas, how sorrowful!
His spirit and breath followed along;
Yanling had already understood.
Bestowing the body equally to kites and ants
was what the Master of the Lacquer Garden comprehended.
Leaving one's skeleton in the empty wilderness—
how could it be strange, how could it be feigned?
Fortunately there were remains left over,
to feed the insects and birds for a while.
Alas, how sorrowful!
Looking back on his life,
we shared seclusion and plumbing the depths.
Together we set about planning;
together we climbed and gazed out.
Breaking rocks to open mountain streams;
clearing branches to thin the forest.
Gazing far at the layered peaks;
viewing near the rugged crags.
Tasks were few and the place was quiet;
we pursued the subtle and probed the hidden.
Which phrase did we not polish?
Which doubt was not resolved?
Opening wrappers and unrolling scrolls,
retrieving texts and unfolding paper.
Questions arrived and answers were returned,
letting the day run on into the night.
Changju and Jieni ploughed side by side;
Boyi and Shuqi shared the fern-shoots.
When our footsteps matched, our hearts were joyful;
now that things have diverged, my wishes are frustrated.
Hearing of his illness, I was filled with burning grief;
learning of the misfortune, I was overcome with sorrow.
Who could say it does not hurt?
Falling tears soak my robe.
Alas, how sorrowful!
Traveling far, the seasons shifted;
at the borders of the land, the climate changed.
At the end of autumn and the middle of winter,
I crossed the cinnamon-covered ridges and plunged towards the sea.
Forever remembering that man,
my thoughts run deep and my grief doubles.
Looking down, I take leave of ordinary men;
looking up, I am ashamed before those beyond dependence.
Alas, how sorrowful!