Sacrificial address offered to the Meditation Elder Jongui祭鍾義禪老文
月日。良醞令同正李某謹以茶菓之奠。祭于禪師義公之靈。惟靈佛隴之嗣。尤溪之宗。全德法器。旣豐而充。行修而峻。道盈而沖。餘事文章。龍獰虎雄。揮翰洒紙。風凄雨濛。坦然曠達。多可旁通。昔敦牂之紀歲兮。始傾蓋而從容。甑山之阿。往來憧憧。往來伊何。問道談空。問道伊何。是空假中。維是文句。爲我擊蒙。惟師之故。開我昏聾。至若竹窓夜雨。松院淸風。燈明圍棋。不覺日紅。不爾賦詩。交相磨礱。飮我以酒。沈醉百鍾。枕我以膝。睡息噴虹。脫略碎節。披豁心胸。同遊國淸。岸挾丹楓。竝轡甘露。綠水沖瀜。陟巘觴酌。啜醇吮醲。載哦載詠。其樂融融。嗚呼哀哉。人生聚散。易別難逢。一從睽拆。俱若轉蓬。我官于南。師去舊峯。師還洛師。從軍我東。出入違背。杜燕秋鴻。率然相遇。旋別悤悤舊歡不可再兮。奈聞此訃凶。水逝兮不復。雲去兮無蹤。法棟云折。學者安從。道境之一生死兮。予何爲此忡忡。師豈沒沒隨庸流兮。其所之兮兜率天宮。我如踵往一笑相同。煎臘芽兮是薦。姑表我之悾悾。
On such-and-such a day of such-and-such a month, Yi so-and-so, Supernumerary Director of the Office of Fine Brews, having prepared the offering of tea and fruit, makes sacrifice before the spirit of the meditation master, Lord Ui (義公).
Your bright spirit was heir to Bullong (佛隴) and a master of the school at Ugye (尤溪). A vessel of the Dharma with virtue complete, you were ample and full. Your conduct was cultivated and lofty, and your Way was full and yet empty. The writings you made with the time left over were fierce as a dragon and grand as a tiger. When you swung your brush and scattered it over the paper, the wind was desolate and the rain came thick. You were generous and open, and much in you ran through to everything.
Long ago, in the year of the horse (午年), we first tilted our carriage covers toward each other and made a quiet friendship. We went back and forth often at the foot of Jeungsan (甑山). And going back and forth, what did we do? We asked about the Way and talked of emptiness. And asking about the Way, what was it? It was emptiness and the provisional and the middle. These phrases broke my foolishness. Thanks to you, my dark and stopped-up ears were opened.
When the night rain fell on the bamboo window and a clear wind blew in the pine-ringed yard, we would light the lamp and play baduk and not know that the sun had reddened. Or else we made poems and polished one another. You made me drink until I was soaked with a hundred cups, and had me lay my head on your knee, and the breath of my sleep spouted a rainbow. We threw off petty etiquette and opened our breasts wide.
When we roamed together at Gukcheong Monastery (國淸寺), red maples hung upon the slopes; and when we held our reins side by side at Gamno Monastery (甘露寺), the green water brimmed over. We climbed the peak and raised our cups and drank the thick wine and recited and sang, and that pleasure was full and warm.
Alas, how sad. In the gathering and scattering of a man's life, parting is easy and meeting is hard. After we were once divided, we were both like rolling mugwort. I held office in the south, and you left your old peak. When you returned to the capital, I went east following the army. Our comings and goings crossed each other like the cuckoo and the swallow and the autumn goose. If we suddenly met, we parted again in haste.
The old pleasures cannot be enjoyed again, and now that I hear this ill news, what am I to do? The water flows away and does not return; the cloud departs and leaves no trace. The ridgepole of the Dharma has broken; whom will those who study follow?
In the realm of the Way, life and death are one; why then do I grieve so? How should you muddle along and follow the multitude? The place you have gone to must be the Tusita heaven. When I follow after you, one laugh will make us one again. I brew the twelfth-month tea buds and offer them, and so show forth my foolish devotion.