廣弘明集 16.37

16.37

Gang speaks: News from you has long been cut off, and I am ever anxious with longing. The wind is stern and the cold is bitter; I hope that you are tranquil and harmonious. I respectfully understand that at the Vimalakīrti Dharma assembly you personally received the words from the golden mouth. The treasured words rivaled Mṛgadāva; the principles were as congenial as Gṛdhrakūṭa. Here the subtle and secret treasury has flourished, and from here the adorned bodhimaṇḍa has been further propagated. Not only did the mind-lamp shine at night, but the blossoms of thought also took flight in the morning. Your expansive thoughts of broad clarity were originally superior in the inner teachings. Now you accompany the chariot of the ten virtues and open the road of the eight governings; flowing with the waters of prajñā, you wash away the dust of mental consciousness. To put forth spring sprouts in this way will surely yield autumn fruits. I ever recall the splendid gathering at Hualin, where I also humbly occupied the lowest seat. From morning to night, we bathed in wondrous words. When the assembly was over and the day lingered, we retired to the side pavilion; hand in hand, we ascended high places and engaged in conversation and laughter. Looking up at the nine stories, peering down upon a hundred cubits: the moon stirred in the golden pond, and the jade trees held the breeze. At that time, it was truly worthy of being called Dharma joy. Now I have rolled up my carriage curtains and ride post horses in a remote corner. Hearing that the rain of wisdom is pouring down, I am filled with leaping joy. In vain I gaze up at your torrent of eloquence, with no way to receive your teachings. I am empty and have nothing, unable to brighten my inner spirit; conditioned by delusion, love arises, and I sigh that it is hard to extricate myself. Furthermore, since descending from my carriage, doctrinal discussions have become ever fewer. Old memories are exhausted, and new understandings have not yet been tasted. I feel ashamed of reciting by mouth, and I also lack mental eloquence. I am forever unsuited to receive the poured vessel, and ever ashamed before the dyed cloth. Thus, as the clouds of compassion gather and the ocean of wisdom is deep, I hope that at times a few drops from the edge of the shadows and the remnants of the waves may be sprinkled upon me. But separation accumulates more and more, and words of longing fill my eyes. I hope you will graciously receive this. My words do not fully convey my heart. Respectfully stated.