---
title: "湛然圓澄禪師語錄 · 又"
description: "湛然圆澄禅师语录由明代禅宗高僧湛然圆澄所述，其门人明凡记录，丁元公与祁骏佳编撰。该书成书于明末佛教复兴时期，收录圆澄禅师的开示、法语、公案及书信，集中体现其禅学思想与修行指导，倡导直指人心、见性成佛的曹洞宗风。作为明代禅宗重要文献，该语录不仅传承了临济与曹洞宗的精髓，对后世禅修者具有深远影响，是研究明清佛教禅宗思想与实践的重要典籍。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmcxr5xsu00o5i904jv6p854i"
---

### 又

> Furthermore,

我詩有便宜。終不費心機。信口道長短。適意無是非。如來釋迦老。孔子是仲尼。問我如何者。回他囉囉哩。

> My poetry has a simple, genuine quality— I never trouble myself with clever strategies. I speak freely, whether long or short, And follow my feelings, with no sense of right or wrong. If you ask who the Tathagata Shakyamuni is, Or who Confucius, called Zhongni, might be. To anyone who asks me, "What do you mean by this?" I simply answer, "Lo-lo-li— a song without words."

又

> Furthermore,

捫虱茅簷下。昏昏不舉頭。披衣仍曝日。白眼看王矦。

> Lice-picking beneath the thatched eaves, Drowsy, I hardly lift my head. Wrapping my coat, I still bask in the sun, Looking askance at lords and kings.

又

> Furthermore,

山居有何趣。幽獨勝塵寰。麋鹿常為伴。龍蛇辨不難。舉槌呈覿面。搖拂過千山。問我西來意。酬他只指彈。

> What wonder lies in mountain living? Solitude's peace surpasses the world's strife. Elk and deer are constant companions; Dragon or serpent—hardly hard to name. I lift a mallet, showing truth directly; I flick a whisk, crossing a thousand peaks. You ask the meaning of my coming West— My reply is merely to snap my fingers.

又

> Furthermore,

春到梅知早。因開隔歲花。暗香和月白。清影弄窓紗。枯幹瓊枝發。騷人國色誇。此心無外慕。素質厭繁華。

> When spring arrives, the plum knows it's early— For blooming, it waits a whole year past. Its hidden fragrance blends with moonlit white, Its clear shadows play upon the window screen. Dry branches burst with jade-like blossoms; Poets praise its beauty, fit for a kingdom's pride. This heart craves nothing from outside— A pure substance weary of gaudy luxury.

又

> Furthermore,

東隣誰喧嘩。云是王大宅。昨夜生個兒。邀朋廣設席。家私數百萬。靠托有所得。初觀似恩主。細看還是賊。

> East neighbor, what's the racket? They say it's the Wang mansion. Last night a son was born, So they've set a feast for friends. The family's worth millions, And relies on some connections. At first glance, he seems a benefactor, But look closely—he's still a thief.

又

> Furthermore,

聞有烏先生。狀元十七八。翰林排位次。門第書科甲。四十登三公。閻王已發帖。窮通在眼中。富貴如電爍。

> I heard of a certain Sir Crow, A young lad, seventeen or eighteen. In the Hanlin Academy, ranked in a row, From noble family and scholarly acclaim at forty, minister of state, so high, Yet the King of Hell had already sent his summoning fly. Poverty and success are clear before the eye, Wealth and honor like lightning flash in the sky.

又

> Furthermore,

西隣動哭聲。謂是母哭兒。兒方念三四。母已六十餘。徒以兒可惜。安識自己癡。少年既已逝。老大欲何為。

> To the west, the sound of someone weeping— A mother mourns her son, she says. Her son was barely thirty-four; She herself is past sixty. Pity for her child clouds her mind— How could she see her own folly? Youth has already slipped away; What can one do in old age?

又

> Furthermore,

丈夫志氣欲冲虗。纔有施為便不如。祇有山田堪屈節。不妨腰膝軟如泥。

> A gentleman's ambition reaches for the sky, Yet when he acts, it falls short of his aspirations. Only in the mountain fields can he bow his head, Where even his waist and knees may soften like mud.

又

> Furthermore,

山居何所有。貧病老俱全。白髮嫌頻剃。緇衣恨易穿。鍋炊無米粥。竹筧自來泉。抱病未為苦。清閑即是仙。

> What does a mountain dweller have? Poverty, illness, and old age, all three. Gray hair resents the frequent shaving. Dark robes wear out too easily. The pot cooks a porridge of no rice. Bamboo pipes bring water from a spring. Illness is not truly suffering. Clear leisure is itself a sage.

又

> Furthermore,

老儂一味懶。去住總無心。著韈不知倒。披衣失整襟。閒來陟峰頂。足倦坐松陰。世事渾如夢。憑高望遠岑。

> Old and content, I've no desire to strive; Coming or going—no plans in my mind. Put on my socks, can't tell wrong from right; Wear my robe, forget to straighten the hem. When at leisure, I climb the mountaintop; When feet tire, I rest beneath the pines. Worldly affairs, all a fleeting dream; From on high, I gaze at distant peaks.

又

> Furthermore,

題詩寄寥寂。乘興步前廊。明月如有意。篩金落草堂。

> Inscribing a poem to solace my quiet solitude, I followed my mood and strolled along the front corridor. The bright moon, as if with heartfelt intent, Sifts golden light down onto the thatched hall.

又

> Furthermore,

欲入雲門路。沿谿一徑通。休教傍顧問。指點亂峰中。

> To enter the Cloud Gate path, Follow the stream down a single trail. Do not look to the sides for guidance; The way is shown among the chaotic peaks.

又

> Furthermore,

芟草街除下。閒吟幾句詩。看心當動處。著意在忙時。惜菊勤澆水。梳花摘故枝。子規聲太切。連呌我何如。

> I weed the grassy paths beneath the street, And idly chant a few stray lines of verse. I watch my mind when thoughts begin to stir, And stay aware while busy at my work. I tend the chrysanthemums, watering with care, And trim the flowers, plucking withered stems. The cuckoo calls too urgently, too near— Its constant cry asks me: "How are you?"

又

> Furthermore,

去古何其遠。山僧事送迎。清貧猶有辱。濁富且無驚。佛祖尊王位。公卿重世名。先生五斗粟。下我水雲情。

> Far removed from ancient times, Monks busy with comings and goings. Even in pure poverty, one may face disgrace; While muddy wealth at least brings no alarm. Buddhas and patriarchs respect the throne, Nobles and officials value worldly fame. Master, for five bushels of grain, You overshadow my simple, cloud-and-water heart.

又

> Furthermore,

開池不待月。畜水備澆蔬。抱甕雖云拙。消閒不可無。天緣隨分足。物欲自相疎。不意夜來月。如同信使符。

> A pond is dug before the moon arrives; Water is stored to wash the greens alive. Though carrying jars by hand seems clumsy, still, No idle hour should pass without life's thrill. The heavenly lot with what you have is true; Desire for things then fades away from view. Who knew the moon would rise so late last night— An unexpected messenger of light.

又

> Furthermore,

我詩無巧句。摸寫實功夫。钁得一段地。種成兩樣蔬。不栽𦵇與韮。多半是葫蘆。擬學趙州老。譚禪只說無。

> My poems have no clever lines, I just write from honest practice. I dig a plot of land, And plant two kinds of vegetables. I don't grow shallots or leeks— Mostly it's gourds. I try to learn from Old Master Zhaozhou: When talking about Zen, I only say "No."

又

> Furthermore,

豬羊當用食。不食無冤儔。咂骨察其味。潛心觀所繇。昔時食我肉。今世以身酬。兩足不肯避。四足欲何修。

> Pigs and sheep were meant to be eaten, But if not eaten, they bear no grudge. When you chew on their bones and taste the flavor, Quietly observe the cause behind it all. In the past, they ate my flesh; In this life, they repay with their own bodies. If humans, with two legs, refuse to avoid this cycle, Then animals, with four legs, how can they cultivate?

又

> Furthermore,

自身如泡幻。常懷千載憂。妄心不能足。日夜思經求。起屋七八透。買田千萬坵。神枯心思盡。病作臥床頭。兒女滿堂屋。誰為展憐眸。分分皆力置。件件安可休。雖死不能捨。願作護家狗。趨富拒貧賤。波波顧前後。一朝筋力竭。厭我已老朽。將我烹之食。辜恩世無有。隔生不復認。對面如千秋。父子情義絕。徒增兒女𬽦。

> The body is like a bubble, fleeting and unreal, Yet we carry a thousand years of worry. The restless mind is never satisfied, Day and night, it schemes and seeks. We build house after house, Buy field upon field of land. When the spirit withers and thoughts run dry, Sickness comes, and we lie confined to bed. Though children and grandchildren fill the hall, Who will offer a compassionate glance? Every penny was earned with toil, Nothing can be let go. Even in death, we cannot part with it, Wishing only to be a watchdog for the home. We chase the rich and shun the poor, Anxiously looking front and back. But once our strength is gone, We are cast aside as old and useless. Then we are cooked and eaten— Such ingratitude is unheard of. In the next life, we are strangers, As distant as a thousand autumns. The bond of parent and child is broken, Only deepening the enmity between them.

又

> Furthermore,

金風乍作征人悲。野老朝陽補破衣。剪得浮霞修直裰。袈裟又半逐雲飛。

> An autumn wind suddenly rises, causing the traveler to feel sorrow. An old hermit mends a tattered garment in the morning sun. He cuts a piece of floating cloud to patch his straight robe, Then half his robe drifts away again on the wind.

又

> Furthermore,

簷前卒卒墮黃葉。窓裏貧僧愁更切。寒暑催遷不蹔停。未明大事空叨呾。

> Before the eaves, yellow leaves swiftly fall. Inside the window, a poor monk’s sorrow deepens. Cold and heat urge on, never pausing for a moment— The great matter unclear, my chanting is but empty noise.

又

> Furthermore,

水面優游意興多。何方漁曲暢婆娑。移舟棹打天邊月。品笛聲沈水底歌。失宿江雛空露脛。逃鈎燒尾背浮波。形容萬一無能補。難把餘情仔細哦。

> Gliding across the water's surface, our spirits rise with joy— Where can we find a fisherman's tune to match this carefree buoy? Paddling our boat, we knock at the moon on the horizon, The flute's melody sinks deep, a song beneath the waves hidden. Homeless river birds show bare legs in the night air, Escaped fish, tails burnt, turn their backs on the floating snare. This fleeting scene, I cannot fully trace or brighten— No way left to linger, or on each subtle feeling to tighten.

又

> Furthermore,

聞道春郊多秀色。山翁拽杖印蒼苔。住觀繞岸楊初綠。忽見平江鳥夜來風捲濤頭珠散雪。山浮水面碧莊臺。龍魚跳躍烟波外。風雨相從笑滿腮。

> Chancing upon spring's fine colors in the fields, An old mountain hermit taps his staff through mossy yields. He stops to watch green willows by the shore, When suddenly the river birds bring dusk—no more. Wind whips waves to spray like scattered snow, Hills float on water, jade terraces aglow. Dragon-fish leap through misty waves with glee— Wind and rain keep him company; his smile is free.

又

> Furthermore,

野老山中但學孩。柴門終日未甞開。地罏火盡重增炭。瓦權糧疎間雜䅘。鼾臥夢魂常自在。忘緣名利已成灰。破衣懶向朝陽補。每把浮雲漫剪裁。

> An old man in the mountains learns to be like a child— his brushwood gate never opens all day. When the earth stove's fire dies, he adds more charcoal; when the grain jar grows low, he mixes rice with wild grains. He sleeps and snores, his spirit always at ease; forgetting attachments to fame and gain, he’s already ash. His tattered robe, too lazy to mend in the morning sun— he idly cuts floating clouds to patch it.