Many Answering Poems Arrived from Elder Mun, and Since Every Piece Whipped Me for Being Slow and Dull, I Forced Out the Full Number and Respectfully Continued the Series文長老見和。多至。每篇皆警策遲鈍。勉强備數奉賡耳。
十載西堂擁葛僧。古山歸夢一䆫燈。幾千可使容鵬背。第五須看占鴿層。蟾吐素光䆫有暈。龍噓白氣井無氷。叢林勍敵知多少。杭舌乘流一皷勝。
Ten years in the West Hall (西堂), a monk wrapped in hempen cloth, dreaming of a return to his old mountain — one window and a lamp. How many thousand would it take to hold the roc's back? Only on seeing the fifth tier does one take the dove's tier. The toad spits out white light, and a halo lies on the window; the dragon breathes white vapour, and there is no ice in the well. Do you know how many stout rivals the monastic grove holds? With belly and tongue you ride the current and win at one beat of the drum.
Interlinear notes 3
九首
Nine poems.
普濟西堂。禪子所聚。
The West Hall of Bojesa is where Seon practitioners gather.
文來得寺。故云。
Master Mun had come and obtained a temple, and so it was said thus.
攪了黃梅七百僧。朅來無語對龕燈。閑書滿案風開帙。高塔摩空月倒層。銀葉燒香朝有火。石鐺留滴夜生氷。莫貪黃獨輕泥詔。一紙銀鉤懶尙勝。
You shook the seven hundred monks of Huangmei (黃梅), and coming here you face the shrine lamp without a word. Idle books fill the desk, and the wind opens their cases; a high pagoda brushes the void, and the moon lights its tiers upside down. Incense burns on a silver leaf, and there is fire in the morning; drops of water are left in the stone pot, and at night they turn to ice. Do not covet yellow taro and make light of the royal edict; a single sheet of writing like silver hooks is better even when done lazily.
咳咳獨笑一閑僧。此是香嚴老襲燈。心地自涵無盡藏。道天曾上最高層。月松句好人脣膾。雨竹篇淸御眼氷。塞壑塡溝功不淺。趙州伎倆有誰勝。
Laughing aloud all alone, one idle monk — this is Xiangyan (香嚴) grown old and carrying on the lamp. In the ground of the mind he holds of itself a storehouse without end, and in the heaven of the Way he climbed long ago to the highest tier. The lines of "Moon and Pine" (月松) are so good they rise on people's lips like sliced fish, and the piece "Rain on Bamboo" (雨竹) is so clear it was ice in the king's eyes. Your merit in filling up the valleys and the ditches is not shallow; who could outdo the skill of Zhaozhou (趙州)?
Interlinear notes 2
師嘗題普賢寺云。路長門外人南北。松老嵓邊月古今。最警策。自是人號月松和尙。
The monk once wrote at Bohyeonsa: "The road runs long outside the gate, and men go south and north; the pine has grown old beside the rock, and the moon is as of old and now." It is his finest couplet. From then on people called him the Reverend Moon and Pine (月松和尙).
上召師赴內。使賦雨竹詩。嗟賞不已。
The king summoned the monk to the palace, had him compose the poem "Rain on Bamboo" (雨竹), and could not stop admiring it.
語帶天仙不帶僧。到頭吟盡幾番燈。冷聽秋雨芭蕉響。紅賞春風躑躅層。未必老禪工鍊玉。只緣淸質本如氷。支郞况有降魔手。移作詩鳴世孰勝。
Your words carry a heavenly immortal about them, and not a monk; how many lamps have you burned, chanting them to the end? Coldly you listen to the autumn rain sounding on the plantain, and redly you admire the tiers of azalea in the spring wind. It is not that the old Seon monk is skilled at polishing jade, but only that his clear nature was ice from the first. Zhi Lang (支郞) has besides the art of subduing demons; and if he turns it into ringing verse, who in the world could outdo him?
一片心轉面壁僧。歸來燃却百千燈。立從白雪腰侵冷。痛覺神峯頂聳層。道境漸佳如啖蔗。家風長爽似懷氷。何人好事貽霜塵。從此談鋒漸未勝。
A wall-facing monk who turned one piece of his mind about comes back and burns a hundred thousand lamps. Standing in the white snow, the waist is invaded by the cold, and keenly one knows that the numinous peak's summit rises in tiers. The borders of the Way grow finer, as though one chewed sugarcane, and the bearing of the house is always cool, as though it held ice. Someone fond of meddling gave him a deer-tail whisk (麈尾) white as frost, and from then on I can less and less match the sharpness of his words.
Interlinear notes 1
崔宗藩贈塵尾。
Choe Jongbeon gave him the deer-tail whisk (麈尾).
珍重能文江右僧。相逢無處不添燈。禪河容我曾分滴。詩壘因君更築層。倚檻共吟穿戶月。問山同過鎖溪氷。憑師若許參蓮社。汲水肩薪力足勝。
Precious is the monk of Jiangyou (江右) who writes so well — wherever we meet there is no place where we do not trim the lamp higher. The river of Seon took me in and once shared a drop with me; and thanks to you I pile up the rampart of poetry in tiers again. Leaning on the railing we chant together the moon that pierces the gate, and asking after the mountain we pass together the ice that locks the stream. If, relying on you, I were allowed to join the Lotus Society, I could well bear the labour of drawing water and carrying brushwood.
懶將茶品鬪吳僧。愛把淸樽醉鳳燈。手澁未調金露液。骨昏難躡玉臺層。計乖南鴈寧違雪。身似東蠶已慣氷。粗報君恩便歸去。覓瘢群謗可能勝。
Too lazy to contend with the monks of Wu (吳) over the judging of tea, I take the clear wine jar and love to get drunk by the phoenix lamp. My hands are clumsy, and I cannot pick out the liquor like golden dew; my bones are numb, and it is hard to tread the tiers of the jade terrace. My plans have gone awry — how should the goose flying south go against the snow? My body is like the eastern tower, already used to the ice. When I have roughly repaid the king's grace I shall go back at once; how could I outlast the crowd of slanders that hunt for flaws?
綠綺何須淸蜀僧。自彈幽韻伴靑燈。壯心不復虹千丈。平地無端浪百層。故國夢歸穿碧岫。殘宵酒渴嚼渾氷。片時未見曹溪老。雅興閑懷兩未勝。
Why should the Lüqi lute (綠綺琴) sound clear only for the monk of Shu? Alone I play a secluded tune and keep company with the green lamp. My stout heart is no longer a rainbow a thousand fathoms high, and on level ground, for no reason, the waves rise a hundred tiers. My dream of going home pierces the blue peaks, and at dawn, the wine dried up, I chew nothing but ice. For a while now I have not seen the old man of Caoxi (曹溪), and neither the quiet delight nor the idle longing can I master.
寂寞如今學老僧。繁華曾閱馬行燈。題詩舊習言餘綺。作邑遺痕骨露層。潘岳年來雙鬢雪。王沈門冷一身氷。腰黃未必皆豪傑。百擲摴蒲偶一勝。
In desolation I now learn from the old monk, though in my flourishing days I knew the galloping-horse lantern. By the old habit of making poems my words are still fair; by the traces left of serving in the provinces my bones stand out in tiers. Pan Yue (潘岳) of late has snow at both temples, and Wang Chen (王沈), his gate gone cold, is ice from head to foot. Not all who wear the yellow seal-cord at the waist are heroes; it is one chance win in a hundred throws of chupu (摴蒲).