廣弘明集 23.25

23.25

Now, when establishing discourses in accord with principles, the hundred schools have not yet determined what is right; when relying on the mind to understand internally, a single person does not fear stumbling. Yet in the end, they cannot distinguish one from another. If we all sigh over falling into ruin yet being rescued, who ultimately knows for whose sake? Hoping that when conduct is established, good and evil need not be scrutinized; desiring that when fame is transmitted, the fragrant and the foul wither alike. However, for one whose purpose was not broken by bodily frame, and whose aspirations transcended the limits of life, in what my own eyes personally witnessed, I saw such a person in this master!
His benevolent mind and luminous intellect emerged in his youth. Born with innate nobility, his family possessed abundant gold and silks. Furthermore, he was skilled at riding and understood strings and pipes. Darting past fleeting scenery on the grand boulevards and plucking strings and blowing pipes in splendid marketplaces, this was not merely for a matter of weeks and months, but went on for years. Truly, he was like the Zhao and Li families of Xianyang, or the Cheng and Zheng clans of Linqiong!
Afterward, during a long night of solitary realization, in the midst of drinking he sighed and said: “How sorrowful! Joy and aversion come by turns, ultimately returning to sorrow and suffering. If one does not block their roots, how can one transcend them? Moreover, the three realms whirl and sink, and the various heavens are but a fleeting instant. How much more so Duke Jing of Qi atop Mount Niu, or Emperor Wu of Sui peering at the shadows? The seasonal affairs urge us on, pressed hard by frost and dew. Inferring from these earnest words, how could this endure for long?”
Resolutely, he conceived the aspiration to cast aside glory and splendor, and universally succour both others and self. His mother pitied his resolve, and his elder sister and younger brother praised his integrity; they thereupon gave their consent. Leaving the household to seek the Way, he himself having done so, his entire family withdrew from the world. Wife and children were severed forever, and joys were dismissed for good. How could it be merely the vanishing of past pleasures? Discerning it in the prime of his youth, the love and affections of all time were now parted forever.
Taking a travel boat southward, he cast his shadow on Mount Lu. Once he ascended Stone Gate and Incense Burner Peak, for six years he did not descend the ridge. The assembly of monks could not endure its depths, but the Dharma Master did not alter his discipline. His thought of aiding others did not allow him to remain proud in seclusion: when a fellow student fell ill, he shook his staff across ten thousand li to rescue him.
At that time, I was recuperating from illness at East Mountain (Dongshan). Hearing of his reputation, I admired him from afar. How could I expect his personal presence? I merely invited him on account of the mountains. When the Dharma Master arrived, I, an unworthy person, was burdened by mundane duties. The preface to my earlier poem roughly recorded it, so I will not trouble to repeat it.
Later, when he returned to the mountain and expounded teachings, our sincerity was fully realized and at last fulfilled. Adjoining eaves on layered crags, together we drew from the winding torrent. Eating mushrooms and atractylodes, sharing our meals; opening the words of the Dharma, reading from the same scrolls—this lasted for two cycles of cold and heat. It was not merely that Shan Tao showed no expression of joy or anger, or that the Chief Minister was unaffected by being dismissed or promoted; he truly illuminated the hidden and subtle, clearing away immediate blockages, washing away subtle defilements, daily forgetting his illnesses.
I had hoped we would dwell together into white-haired old age, yet separation came without warning. Sincerity and compliance found no return; what cause was there to gather again? In his later years, entangled in misfortune, he came from afar to visit me. Having arrived, obstacles intervened, and letters and news were nearly cut off. Meeting with the summer heat, he contracted an illness, and within ten days he passed away. Truly, life and death are governed by fate! This journey indeed had its cause. Hearing the tragic news, my grief and pain were a hundredfold above common sentiments. How long could paper and ink last? It is not to seek fame; rather, admiring his will and integrity, and recalling deeply our lifelong bond, I could not remain silent. Therefore, entrusting my heart, I take up the brush. Its words say: