溈仰宗
Weiyang School
一星火𪹼於無有雙關之表。三撼門扇於昧落兩頭之間。溈山僧水牯牛。腰下看取。東平鏡溈山鏡。手中撲破。所以凡聖兩忘。見履兼盡。用處則單刀直入。思無則靈燄何窮。插鍬拔鍬。埀脚結脚。平目仰視於收放。不獨一二二三。而劒刃惟單。兩口無舌。九十六相雲興。父子合宗。溈仰一枝喬出。
A single spark flares on the surface, free from dual meanings. Three times the door shakes, between the fading of both ends. The monk of Weishan is a water buffalo—look beneath its waist. The mirror of Dongping, the mirror of Weishan—shattered in hand. Thus, both ordinary and holy are forgotten; seeing and walking are both exhausted. In action, it is a single blade thrust straight in; in thoughtlessness, how can the spiritual flame be exhausted? Insert the spade, pull out the spade; hang the foot, bind the foot. Eyes level, looking up at gathering and releasing— not only one or two, two or three. Yet the sword’s edge is singular; two mouths have no tongue. Ninety-six forms arise like clouds; father and son join in one lineage. A single branch of the Weiyang school stands tall.