廣弘明集 23.34

23.34

在尚尚王。歌鳳伊洛。逸路翔雲。高軒鳴鶴。靈源世流。幽人代作。歸來之子。跨古逢運。結𨅊承風。遵途襲問。緯玉則溫。經金斯振。歲學尚幼。年盈數始。令德既軒。其秀唯起。鋒頴萬代。風標千里。情愛相輕。家國如草。達矣哲人。獨肆玄寶。總駕七覺。飛案八道。三江多靜。湛勝廬山地去萬物。軌跡停玄。遼遼清慧。結宇承烟。前驅群有。首路人天。吾生製融。集彼清風。業流善會。情竦妙同。白日春上。素月秋中。方寸無底。六合可窮。卓彼羅什。三界特秀。真俗冠冕。神道領袖。若人對響。承車即𨅊。沙漠織寒。長風負雪。投袂氷霜。攬裾暮節。誰斯問津。悠焉在哲。莊衿老帶。孔思周情。百時如一。京載獨開。胸地既滿。顧惟糟魄。移此無生。悽居樹席。妙入環中。道出形上。所謂伊人。玄途獨亮。智虛于情。照實其相。生住無住。異壞相尋。羅什就古。慧遠去今。匠石何運。伯牙罷音。殷憂逃遁。昔還爾心。東巖解迹。削景若邪。早帳風首。春席雲阿。流庭結草。澓渚含波。月軒東秀。日落西華。情步不辭。寢興高絕。白雲臨操。清風練節。經綸五道。提衡六趣。四諦歸想。三乘總路。生滅在法。諸行難常。哲人薪盡。舊火移光。白日投晦。中春起霜。嗚呼哀哉。昔余紈髮。早讌清衿。送志悲歲。迎韻者心。家貧親老。耕而弗飽。就檄追歡。身素孤夭。既隔于形。徒通以道。自我從病。高榭東山。明月途靜。白雲路閑。承松吐嘯。風上舒言。咨予戴侯。風居涼峻。佇館伊人。流心酌韻。如何高期。隔成幽顯。五弦喪弄。三𨢩誰醆。嗚呼哀哉。山泉同罷。松竹哀涼。秋朝霜露。寒夜嚴長。嗚呼哀哉。孤猨將思。旅雁聲時。廣開性品。無情者誰。連臺成草。比館唯悲。存亡既代。物色長衰。嗚呼哀哉。蒼生失御。萬物無歸。陰爽就夜。重陽頓暉。嗚呼哀哉。伊四望之茫茫。愴余心之悄悄。雖淚至之有端。固憂來其無兆。隱（於靳反）長思以歎悲。諒縱橫於言表。嗚呼哀哉。

"In ancient times, high was the king;
Singing of the phoenix by the Yi and Luo.
On the untrammeled road he soared in the clouds;
In the tall chariot cranes called out.
The spiritual fountain flowed through generations;
Secluded recluses arose across eras.
This child who has returned
Straddled antiquity to meet his moment.
With robes gathered up he received the spirit,
Traversed the path and inherited instruction.
Weaving with jade, he was warm;
Measuring with gold, he rang clear.
His years of study were still tender,
His age had just completed its first decade.
His fine virtue having already risen high,
His elegance simply flourished.
A sharp blade for ten thousand generations,
A wind-swept exemplar across a thousand leagues.
Emotional attachments were held light;
Family and state were like weeds.
Discerning was the wise man,
Solitary in unfolding the mysterious treasure.
Guiding all within the seven limbs of awakening,
Flying across the eightfold path.
The Three Rivers were mostly quiet;
Profoundly surpassing Mount Lu.
In a place remote from all things,
His tracks halted in the mystery.
Distantly lofty was his pure wisdom;
Building his lodge, he received the mist.
Foremost leader through the realms of being,
Pathfinder for gods and humans.
Our life is shaped by harmony,
Gathering at that pure breeze.
Karmic streams met auspiciously;
Feelings were stirred in wondrous accord.
The bright sun in early spring;
The white moon at mid-autumn.
His mind was bottomless;
The six directions could be encompassed.
Eminent was that Kumārajīva,
Distinctly superior in the three realms;
Crown of the ultimate and conventional,
Leader of the spiritual path.
If that man echoed in response,
Boarding the carriage, he was right at his heels.
Across deserts weaving the cold,
A long wind carrying snow;
Shaking his sleeves against ice and frost,
Gathering his skirts in the late year.
Who is there now to ask the way?
From afar it rests with the wise.
Zhuangzi’s lapel and Laozi’s sash,
Confucius's thought and the sentiments of Zhou.
A hundred eras seemed as one;
The profound store was uniquely unlocked.
His chest having been filled,
He looked back upon these as mere dregs.
Turning toward this unborn state,
He dwelled mournfully on a mat beneath a tree.
Wondrously entering the center of the ring,
The Way transcends physical form.
Such indeed was that person,
Uniquely illuminating the mysterious path.
Wisdom empty of emotion,
It truly illuminated their marks.
Arising, abiding, and non-abiding;
Change and destruction pursue one another.
Kumārajīva went to antiquity;
Huiyuan has departed from the present.
Where does Master Shi apply his adze?
Boya has silenced his strings.
Deep grief flees away;
Of old it returned to your heart.
Erasing his footprints on the Eastern Crag,
Retiring his shadow at Ruoye.
Early curtains at the head of the wind;
Spring mats in the curve of the clouds.
Grass gathered in the courtyards with streams;
Surging shores harboring waves.
A moonlit veranda to the east stood eminent;
The setting sun sank in western beauty.
In emotional pacing he never relented;
His lying down and rising were elevated and rare.
White clouds looked upon his conduct;
Pure winds refined his discipline.
Structuring the five destinies,
Holding the scales for the six realms.
The four truths gather reflections;
The three vehicles unite the paths.
Arising and ceasing reside in dharmas;
All conditioned things are difficult to keep constant.
The wise man’s firewood is consumed;
The ancient fire has moved its light.
The bright sun plunges into darkness;
In mid-spring frost arises.
Alas, how mournful!
In the past, when my hair was still bound,
Early on I feasted with his pure robe.
Sending off my intentions, I lamented the passing years;
Welcoming his resonance was my mind.
My family was poor and my parents old;
Farming, yet not having enough to eat.
Answering the summons to pursue joy,
My person was plain, solitary, and weak.
Already separated in physical form,
In vain we communicated through the Way.
Ever since I fell ill,
I resided in the tall lodge on Eastern Mountain.
Along the clear moon’s path it was quiet;
Along the white clouds' road it was peaceful.
Catching the pines, I let out a whistle;
Above the wind, I voiced my words.
Alas, my Lord Dai!
Living in the wind, cool and steep.
Pausing at the lodge for that person,
Pouring out his heart to savor the resonance.
How could this noble expectation
Be separated into darkness and light?
The five strings have lost their play;
Who now pours the wine of three measures?
Alas, how mournful!
Mountain and spring both cease together;
Pines and bamboo are mournful and cold.
An autumn morning of frost and dew;
A cold night, rigorous and long.
Alas, how mournful!
The solitary ape will voice its longing;
The wandering wild geese cry in season.
Broadly opening the nature of dharmas,
Who is there without feeling?
Terraces in row have turned to grass;
Adjacent lodges bring only sorrow.
Life and death have taken their turns;
The sights of the world are in lasting decline.
Alas, how mournful!
The common people have lost their guide;
The ten thousand things have nowhere to turn.
The yin soul enters the night;
The pure yang suddenly loses its brightness.
Alas, how mournful!
Oh, the boundless expanse in all four directions!
How my heart is struck with deep sorrow!
Although tears have their cause when they fall,
Grief indeed arrives without an omen.
Concealing long thoughts to sigh in lamentation,
Truly it spills over beyond words.
Alas, how mournful!"