法苑珠林 7.6

7.6

Now, when discussing the dark anguish of the hells, it is singularly agonizing and poignant. Forests of knives tower toward the sun; peaks of swords pierce the sky. Boiling cauldrons surge with waves; blazing furnaces send up flames. Iron cities are barred by day; copper pillars burn by night. In such places, sinners are everywhere replete, agitated and distressed, crying out and wailing in sorrow. Hell-wardens with ox-heads and evil eyes bear ferocious teeth; long pitchforks prop up ribs, and livers and hearts are pounded in mortars. Fierce fires press against bodies, leaving flesh and skin thoroughly consumed; or again, heads are pounded and feet smashed, souls boiled and spirits cooked; gallbladders ripped and intestines drawn out, bodies butchered and flesh minced. How can such suffering be described or conceived? Thereupon they sink and float within boiling soup, or recline amid glowing coals. Flesh is stripped clean on the tips of halberds and swords; bones are crushed beside withered forms. How could one sleep peacefully upon an iron bed? How could one long adhere to a copper pillar? With fire carried in their eyes, tears cannot fall; with smoke held in their mouths, cries can hardly come forth. Such places are still among the lighter ones! Therefore, if amid cold ice one should happen to encounter a warm breeze, or amid coal fires should receive a cool breeze, that would count as joyous and cause for delight. But if one should happen to receive a body in Avīci, it is singular indeed: an agonizing iron wall eighty thousand yojanas across and long, explosive sounds that shock and terrify, stinking smoke billowing up. Like fish in an iron pan, fat and blood are scorched dry; within, there is not a moment of pleasure, for every condition encountered brings suffering. One cannot move or turn, bound exceedingly tight; traversing east to west, penetrating top to bottom. When this realm is burned by the fire of a kalpa, they are transferred to another world; when the kalpa in that other world ends, they return to this place. Circling around like this, they pass through immeasurable kalpas. We pray that they may cultivate merit and all repent; we pray that the boiling soup will become clear and transform into a lotus pond, the glowing coals turn fragrant and become a perfumed canopy, the lofty sword-trees become forests of gems, the luxuriant knife-mountains become Vulture Peak itself. May the copper pillars change color and forever stand as Dharma banners; may the iron nets alter their form to open up a Pure Land. May the ox-headed wardens throw down their blades and receive the Three Refuges; may the hell-wardens cast away their whips and keep the Five Precepts. May enemies be reconciled, showing no trace of anger; may creditors be joyful, harboring no look of wrath. May visitors who lost their heads be made whole through this; may men whose bones and sinews were pulverized be restored to wholeness thereby!