廣弘明集 24.36

24.36

I have read your report. Learning that your venerable master entered nirvāṇa last night, I am filled with profound grief. The Dharma Master's aspirations and achievements were profound and luminous; his conduct in the Way was pure and plain. The jewel of his precepts was spotless and clean; his wings of merit were vast and complete. In addition, his understanding and insight had subtle penetration, and the discernment of his mind investigated things from afar: his prediction of rainfall never failed to come true, and his mention of the black ox was not erroneous. Those who revered him came from near and far; those who received his benefit included both monastics and laity. I said to myself that upon returning to the capital, I would renew our bond; how could I have expected that breath would not return, suddenly arriving at this? Yet his supreme karma was fundamentally profound, and his power of wisdom had long been sharp; his spirit must surely roam the jewel grounds, and his steps soar to the pure heavens. But when speaking of opening the casket at the milk pond and the fragrant coffin, entering his chamber without fully realizing emptiness, how could the heart not be grieved? However, following the trace of the Tathāgata's descent and birth, he entered nirvāṇa accordingly. It is precisely when arising, abiding, and perishing have no fixed characteristics: how could former sages and later worthies be merely like form and shadow? Examining conditioned arising, there has never been an exception. You venerable ones have all accumulated three years of receiving the Way from beginning to end; you should mutually urge each other on to broadly honor his former work, so that the bodhimanda is not interrupted and its benefits do not fall away. The funeral offerings sent herewith are presented as offerings in accordance with the Dharma. What sorrow, what sorrow!