廣弘明集 23.18

23.18

In the eleventh month, winter, on the xinwei day, in the eleventh year of the Yuanjia reign era, Dharma Master Fagao passed away. Alas, how grievous!
Now, unyielding rectitude and rigid obstinacy do harm to broad-minded ease; while humble compliance and round accommodating compromise defile firm purity. Dwelling in the mountains brings the distress of withered isolation; residing in towns invites the affliction of clamour and quagmires. One who could weigh both sensibilities and dispense with both extremes—Dharma Master [Fagang] was such a man! In his youth he frequented the splendid capital, and in maturity he dwelt on secluded slopes. Delighting in his intention, he entered and departed; following his disposition, he went and came. Wearying of the worldly throng, he sought leisure amidst trees and stones; brooding in the stillness of hills and ravines, he observed the varieties of living things. Others considered him to lack a single set principle, yet I saw his masterly sincerity.
By endowed nature he was clear-sighted and quick, gradually cultivated in taste and air. At ease in sentiment and reason, he entrusted his delight to literary meaning. In his associations he was sincere, bright, and utterly genuine in covenant; in his advancement he admired the way of returning to eternity. Putting his person in order through the Dharma robes, the entanglements of vermilion tassels had long been severed; lifting his feet to the divine realm, the impediments of the imperial halls were early dissolved. How much more so the tracks of a śramaṇa's austere disciplines, compared to the mere shifts of worldly fortune!
Formerly, encountering each other by chance, we formed a friendship as carriages brushed; both having shaved our heads, our natural dispositions gathered in harmony, pouring out our hearts and venting our griefs to entrust our fleeting years. We then joined hands to travel to Liang, and wing to wing we perched at Deng. Feasting on the winds of empty peaks, and bathing in the Dao of the mysterious ford, matching our joys and sharing our banquets, it was a once-in-a-thousand-years moment.
Since the forest fell and the birds scattered, more than a decade swiftly passed. You brushed against high boughs, while I sank into the mire. Ever hoping for the chance to meet in secluded dwelling, it turned out to be the separation of Liang's high mountain and the sea. The eastern waves do not return; the western shadows cannot be gathered up. Reaching the end of your river voyage, your bones returned to the layered mounds. Alas, how grievous!
The eulogy says:
His clan and surname derived from Yin,
Truly the lineage of King Tang.
His illustrious fame faded in the middle period,
Yet its origin and flow were brightly manifest.
In his youth he met with sorrow and disaster;
His clan lacked even the mourning of fine hemp.
His benevolent aunt took charge,
And relying on her, he was nurtured and protected.
When he reached fifteen years of age,
His brilliant talent was uniquely prominent.
Two wonders paired in elegance,
A rare match, even in excellence.
His aspiration disdained the central realms;
He thought to ascend to the spiritual domain.
Casting off prolonged earthly life,
He earnestly longed for eternal conditions.
Having followed the mysterious tracks,
He thoroughly understood names and vestiges.
Apart from humaneness and righteousness,
He begrudged none of the mundane.
Desires of the household were not pursued;
Quietly sitting, he found his ease.
Not relying on vermilion doors,
He divined his dwelling on craggy walls.
In coming, his feet were not dampened;
In leaving, his wings were not broken.
Soaring and descending, flocking together,
Advancing and retreating, diminishing and augmenting.
I abhor the floating waves;
You could align directly with mind.
Together soaring over the marshes of the Way,
Both gathering in the forest of virtue.
Equally brushing the gentle breeze,
Together listening to the mysterious voice.
From the palace to the state,
Ever before our eyes, ever in our bosoms.
Past transformations stretch far away;
Remaining thoughts linger in melancholy.
Having already been drawn far apart,
The Way of Heaven bears clear witness.
You departed your former mountain;
I returned to distant frontiers.
Hoping to ride the harmonious turn of fate,
To share shade and rest together.
Cold ashes yield no smoke;
Fallen leaves are severed from their stems.
Our conflicting hopes could not be fulfilled;
You thereupon departed this world.
A man has passed away;
His lofty sentiments are eclipsed and darkened. Alas, how grievous!
Deep winter is bitterly cold;
The riverbank is desolate.
Freezing wind flutters the tent;
Flying sleet enters the boat.
Your life reached its near end;
The journey home remains distant.
Sorrowful, reaching the end;
In stillness, lamenting and crying out.
A lone traveler, fragile indeed;
Equal in transformation, with no special praise. Alas, how grievous!
Remembering your sojourn at Tiger Hill (Huqiu),
Grieving over the extinguishing at the peaks of Lu;
Recalling our gatherings in the central capital,
Thinking of our companionship in foreign borders.
My feelings flutter over the twin peaks;
My thoughts linger tenderly across two provinces.
How entwined and endless!
What is kept in heart brings grief and choking.
Watching the severe winter already pass,
Relying on the great heat now stilled.
The four seasons turn in chaotic cycles;
Our anticipated meeting is dark and eternally hidden.
If future conditions are not extinguished,
Looking back on our lives only increases sorrow. Alas, how grievous!