廣弘明集 28.77

28.77

The Bodhisattva Xiao Fache sends this message by post to the Attendant Liu Zhizang, the Great Being. Since Linzong swiftly returned and Xuandu came back home, it has deepened Yuanli's feelings and added to Zhenchang's sighs. Thus, facing the wind, I gaze toward your excellence; facing the moon, I yearn for the virtuous. Wearied waking and sleeping, I never forget you rising or resting. At present, the god of water Xuanming rules the season, and the year is swiftly drawing to a close. The sun is like green silk; the clouds drift like red pistils. The charcoal at the astronomical terrace weighs heavy; the wells of the Northern Palace overflow. I imagine you take joy in dhyāna bliss, gradually corresponding with the nine stages; and with the merit of full recitation, you ever more probe the three secrets. Among the mountains' fragrant pollens, you naturally enjoy the pines and bamboos; upon the cliffs where the zither sounds, you lack not the charm of climbing-figs. In leisure from cultivating virtue, it is quite sufficient for joy. In ancient times, Han and Mei were two blessed men; Yang and the two Zhong brothers sought solitude; Zheng Lin spread his renown in Pingyi; and Zhou Dang bequeathed his fragrant name in Taiyuan. Some could cast away hundreds of yi, regarding thousands of gold as having no value, eating pine nuts for food and wearing rush-roots for clothing. Yet none walked aloft in Suchness or took refuge in the ancestral ocean of Dharma. The four cranes of the Brahmā King flock together and cry out in the forest park; the thousand horses of Śakra step with bended knees past hills and gardens. If even one of these occurred, it was deemed extraordinary; how much more so when uniting and mastering them all—how magnificent! Thus we know the water looking south already resembles the river of Lüliang; the mountain gazed at to the north is ever more like the ridge of Wu'an. How could you ever look back with longing on Xupu, or still yearn for the Qiang Terrace? Gazing back toward the pool of Han, you bear thoughts of the desolate valley. Seeking each other through this, our hearts can well be known. I have long been weary of the dusty realm, originally cherishing transcendence beyond men. Moreover, devoted to the Permanence [of the Buddha-nature] and relishing the direct cause, I am all the more moved to emulate worthies and ever increase my pursuit of friends. I have always wished to ascend the ridge of Queyue, shelter under the canopy-like pine, draw from the spring of jade and jasper, and untie the sword of the lotus flower. But the bounds of the fief are limited, and I have no means to slip off my sandals. Ever sitting on the bed of Xiang Xu, I constantly think of the couch of Guan Ning. Dreaming of Mount Kuang, I sigh deeply; yearning for the Huanting pavilion, I linger in anticipation. Between the white clouds, the dark blue river stretches without end. Having found no occasion to clap hands in meeting, how can my longing be eased? I imagine you hold no gold or jade dear, and moreover the Weak Water is hard to navigate; yet I still send this letter via the bluebird. The tributary stream is not far; awaiting your fragrant message in the red jade, I crane my neck for the return letter to take the place of the sorrow-dispelling daylily. When the intent is achieved, words are forgotten; why need I say much here? Fache knocks his head to the ground, knocks his head to the ground.