出三藏記集 1.31

1.31

Now, the divine principle is soundless; it relies upon spoken words to convey meaning. Spoken words are traceless; they depend on written characters to depict sounds. Therefore, characters are the snare for words, and words are the trap for principle. When sound and meaning tally, neither may be neglected. Thus the practical application of writing encompasses the universe: though its traces are bound to brush and ink, its principle accords with the divine. In ancient times, there were three creators of scripts. The eldest was named Fan (Brahmā); his script ran to the right. The next was called Kharostha; his script ran to the left. The youngest was Cangjie; his script ran downward. Brahmā and Kharostha lived in India; the Yellow Emperor's scribe Cangjie was in the central lands of China. Brahmā and Kharostha took their model from the Pure Devas; Cangjie drew his patterns from bird tracks. The strokes of their writing indeed differed, but in conveying principle they are identical. Looking upward to inquire into what previous enlightened ones have expounded, there are sixty-four scripts: divided by the styles of writing like the deer-wheel and revolving eyes, while the dragon and ghost eightfold classes have distinct forms of characters. Only Fan and Kharostha are the supreme scripts of the world; therefore, the various countries of India call them divine scripts. Although the copying of sūtras in the western regions all traces its ancestry to the Fan script, the thirty-six kingdoms often show differences, comparable perhaps to the variant forms of seal and large-seal scripts in the Central Lands. When we examine the ancient script of Cangjie, it changed successively through dynasties: the ancient moved to large-seal, the large-seal shifted to small-seal, and the small-seal was altered into clerical script; its transformations were many. As for the eight derivative styles, there are the immortal, dragon, cloud, and lingzhi forms; among the twenty-four scripts, there are the stamped, set, needle, and spearhead types. Though the names and realities are numerous, their practical use is very limited. Yet when we trace the origin and establish the definition, their forms are fully provided in the six types of characters; and in being quick to adapt to the times, nothing is more essential than the clerical method. The sources of eastern and western writing can thus also be briefly investigated. As for the sounds of Hu speech, their single and compound expressions have no constancy: sometimes a single character encompasses many principles; sometimes several words form a single meaning. Examining the Mahāparinirvāṇa-sūtra, it lists fifty characters, fully explaining manifold meanings in fourteen vowels, calling them the roots of characters. Observing their emission of speech and articulation of sounds, they assist one another in modulating turns, differing by long and short, or by the root of the tongue and the tip of the lips. Moreover, a single sound in Hu characters cannot form an utterance: it must require additional words to complete the phrase, only after which the meaning is achieved. How could it not be difficult for translators to convey the intended meaning? Furthermore, Fan writing constructs texts with half-letters and full-letters. The reason they are called half-letters is that their meaning is not yet complete, so the body of the character is half-formed and partial, just as the Chinese character for 'moon' is deficient at its side. The reason they are called full-letters is that their principle is already ultimate, so the body of the character is complete and full, just as the Chinese character for 'sun' is filled in its shape. Therefore, half-letters have a negative sense to illustrate the afflictions (kleśa), while full-letters have a positive sense to illustrate the permanently abiding. Again, the body of a half-letter is like the Chinese character 'yan' (言); the body of a full-letter is like the Chinese character 'zhu' (諸). Only when 'zhe' (者) is paired with 'yan' (言) is the character 'zhu' formed; 'zhu' being a combination of the two is an example of the full. The single, independent standing of 'yan' is of the class of the half. Although the half-letter is singular, it is the fundamental root of characters: because of the existence of the half-letter, the full-letter can be formed. This is like how an ordinary person begins in ignorance and is able to attain the permanently abiding. Therefore, meanings are formulated from characters to illustrate nirvāṇa. The profound meanings of Fan literature are all of this kind. For this reason, the proclamation and comprehension of Fan texts depends upon clear translation. Translation (yi) means explanation (shi): mutually explaining between two countries; if the words are erroneous, the principle will be violated. From the end of the Former Han, when the scriptural Dharma first circulated, the translated sounds were all corrupt, not yet clearly refined. Thus 'futou' (Buddha) and 'sangmen' (śramaṇa) were mistakenly recorded in the Han histories; if sounds and characters were like this, how much more so the meanings! Examining the classical canons of the Central Lands, when chanting the Odes and upholding the Rites as transmitted from teacher to disciple, there were still errors and confusion. The Odes say: 'There is a hare, here is its head.' 'Si' (斯) should be 'xian' (鮮); because the sound in the Qi dialect was corrupt, it ended up altering the text of the Odes. This is an example of the 'sangmen' kind. The Book of Rites says: 'Confucius rose early (zao 蚤).' 'Zao' (蚤) should be 'early' (zao 早), yet the character is written identically to the flea (zao 蚤). This is an instance of an ancient character sharing the same form, which is an example of the 'futou' kind. If the ancient scriptures of the Middle Kingdom already had such variations as 'si' and 'zao', what wonder is there in 'tou' and 'sang' when translating from distant barbarian lands? As for conveying meanings by translating words, the choice of phrasing depends upon the pen. This is why the various new and old sūtras are broadly similar yet slightly different. In the language of India, one says Vimalakīrti: old translations explain it as 'Stainless Fame' (Wugoucheng); translations from the Guanzhong region say 'Pure Name' (Jingming). 'Pure' is simply 'stainless'; 'name' is simply 'fame'. Here the words differ while the meaning is equal. Old sūtras say 'Zhongyou' (All-Blessing); new sūtras say 'Shizun' (World-Honoured One). This is a difference in conceptual formulation. Old sūtras say 'Gantaphe' (Gandharva); new sūtras say 'Qiandapo'. This is a difference in regional phonetic transcription. Having briefly cited three items, the rest can be deduced by analogy. Therefore, the gain or loss of meaning depends upon the translator; whether the diction is plain or ornate rests with the scribe who holds the brush. Some are good at the Hu meaning but do not understand the Chinese intent; some are clear in Chinese text but do not comprehend the Hu sense. Though possessing partial understanding, they remain ultimately obstructed from full penetration. If both Hu and Chinese are clearly understood, and the meaning and principle flow in all four directions, only then can the profound mysteries of the sūtras be expounded and rectified. In ancient times, translators were unable to be thoroughly proficient, which is why the textual meaning of old sūtras came to have obstacles. How could it be that the sūtras themselves were obstructed? It was simply the failing of the translators. In the past, An Shigao of Parthia was exceptionally intelligent and outstanding; the various sūtras he produced were balanced and proper in plainness and ornamentation. An Xuan and Yan Fotiao were tireless and methodical; Zhi Qian and Kang Senghui were refined, elegant, and fluent. All these worthy men were admired in former generations. When it came to Master Dharmarakṣa, he was dedicated and meticulous, mastering both Chinese and barbarian traditions; his translation of texts and transmission of sūtras did not fall short of the old masters. Coming to Dharma Master Kumārajīva, his brilliant spirit shone like gold; the Qin monks Sengrong and Sengzhao had wisdom like a clear water mirror; therefore, they were able to reveal and write out [the texts], fully clarifying the sūtras' profound depths, so that the subtle words of the Great Vehicle shone brightly here. As for Dharmakṣema's transmission of the Nirvāṇa and Guṇabhadra's production of the Avataṃsaka, their phrasing and reasoning were fluent and perspicuous, outshining the sun and moon; observing their rendering of meanings, they followed in the tracks of Master Kumārajīva. As for the miscellaneous small sūtras, most were taken from the four Āgamas; some arrived under the Han, while some came out under the Jin; their translators are nameless, so they cannot be investigated in detail. However, if the text is overly ornate, it harms the elegance; if it is too plain, it suffers from coarseness. Both coarseness and over-ornateness are defects that equally lose the substance of the sūtra. Hence we know that masters who are discerning and faithful can rarely be met with in an age. I, Sengyou, note in examining the sūtras that heterodox treatises, mantras, speech, and scripts are all spoken by the Buddha. Thus, speech is fundamentally one, yet Hu and Chinese separate its sounds; principle is fundamentally non-dual, yet plainness and ornamentation differ in style. Although the success and failure of translation vary with conditions, the wondrous principle of the revered sūtras remains serenely, ever shining. Having respectfully compiled the initial circumstances, I next set forth the later translations. The initial circumstances arose in the Western Regions; the later translations circulate in the Eastern Land. Therefore, tracing the origin and summarizing the end, I lodge them at the end of this record.