廣弘明集 15.188

15.188

Now, from the distant, beginningless past until this present body, the wheel of birth and death has rushed on, beyond the comparison of grinding dust. Light and darkness alternate in turn, beyond the metaphor of wood and fire. Flowing water is not faster; a thousand moons are hard to preserve. The smartweed insect grows accustomed to bitterness; the cassia grub delights in sweetness. The great sleep is worse than leaning against a paulownia tree; the long stupor exceeds lying drunk upon yeast. In principle, it is not summoned by others; in fact, it is incurred by oneself. One never knows where this endowed physical frame came from, nor where this consciousness will ultimately return. Relying only on power and position to outdo one another, they vie for momentary glamour in a single day; carriages and retinues flourish, eagerly racing in their prime. None fail to rely on their heroic spirit, strong teeth, rosy cheeks, and dark hair; their mouths indulge in rich meats and strong wines, their bodies rest in light and fine garments. Bustling strings and urgent bridges indulge in overflowing wantonness without weariness; jade couches and ivory mats exhaust luxurious pleasures without end. They think that the sun's rising and setting at Mengquan and the Ruo Tree have nothing to do with man; that the crouching crow and gazing rabbit rise and fall always at their own pleasure. Little do they know that life is as brittle as fragile grass, and the body is an instrument of suffering. How does this differ from dogs and sheep heading to the slaughterhouse, or deer entering the kitchen? The autumn moth brushes against the flame without hesitation; the spring silkworm wraps itself in silk without awakening. They do not discern past retributions, nor do they recognize habituated causes. When once they strike the fearful paths, the pass of Mengmen is not as perilous; tearing asunder by chariots and dismemberment do not match this pain; severing the feet and boring the shoulders do not equal this suffering. Turning in the wheel, rising and sinking, vague and endless! Therefore, the God among Gods descended with compassion to guide them, damming the long torrent of the summer river, extinguishing the fierce blaze on the autumn plains. At times like a merchant chief, at times like a king of physicians, his forms pervaded the three thousand [worlds], and his teachings spread across a hundred billion [realms]. Either he gave rein to his spiritual powers, or he entered into stillness in the realms of Brahmā. When he spoke, the three wretched paths were freed from suffering; when he smiled, the four forms of birth experienced joy. Thus, adapting to sickness according to capacity, untying entanglements and explaining principles, he instituted the day and night observance known as the Eight Precepts, taking the eightfold noble keys as the Dharma's gate and bar. This is truly the wondrous ford for leaving the world, the heroic practice for those living at home. Let us together bring forth sincerity, to dedicate it to His Highness the Prince of Nanping and pay homage, and so forth.