---
title: "石雨禪師法檀 · 端午後三日柏子持象田書至因寄諸禪士"
description: "石雨禅师法檀是明代禅僧石雨明方禅师的说法记录，由弟子净柱编集而成。该书成于明末清初，反映了当时禅宗曹洞宗的思想风貌与修行实践。内容主要为石雨禅师的开示、法语、机缘对话及诗偈，深入阐释禅宗心性论、顿悟法门与日常修行。作为曹洞宗重要文献，它不仅是研究明末禅宗思想流变的关键文本，也对后世禅修者具有指导意义，在佛教典籍中占据一席之地。"
url: "https://rushiwowen.co/en/r/cmgn3n3yl0biek104q3lf6fz9"
---

### 端午後三日，柏子持象田書至，因寄諸禪士。

孤燈忽自語，晨鵲噪重簷，復省夜來夢，有因豈無緣？苔扉向空寂，此際誰垂涎？或者迫於憤、或者發於顛，顛此乃為正、憤此乃為賢。盥沐禮黃面，幽事非空傳，剡上舊遊集，染思多象田。寶泉及蒿芝，清夢猶拘牽，草木澹生計，鳥獸深雲煙。一自飲苕水，忘來不記年，邇聞異人樹，結影枝葉連。枝葉所未貴，心腹奚相憐。心腹是何物？哲人玩其先。其所以玩者，勿謂玄復玄。言路不可繼，意思徒蔓延，明明一切境，逆順何淪漣？苦實不可逭，觸目溟渺焉。此時捫鐵壁，銅牆覷應穿，所以從門入，最上長棄捐。況當劫小濁，一覽眉鬚攢？丈夫別有淚，途窮呼蒼天。呼不再三應，響寄空谷全，神氣為虛化，斯理胡無嫌。試觀化化時，殊難洞源淵，如有所立卓，旦暮遇始圓。

> A lone lamp suddenly speaks on its own, Morning magpies chatter beneath layered eaves. I revisit the dream from last night— Everything has a cause; how could it lack conditions? The moss-covered door faces empty stillness; At this moment, who craves anything? Some are driven by anger, some by madness— Madness can be rectitude, anger can be virtue. I wash and bow before the golden face; Profound matters are not empty rumors. Old companions gather at Shan, Their thoughts dye the meditation fields. Precious springs and mugwort and sesame— Clear dreams still hold me bound. Plants and trees live a simple life; Birds and beasts dwell deep in mist and cloud. Since I drank the waters of Tiao, I've forgotten the years that passed. Lately I hear of a remarkable tree, Whose shade and branches and leaves are intertwined. But branches and leaves are not what's precious— Why should the heart and belly pity them? What is this heart and belly? The wise ponder what comes before. The reason they ponder it— Don't call it mystery upon mystery. The path of words cannot be followed; Meaning only spreads and wanders. All realms of clarity and brightness— Why do favorable and adverse stir ripples? Suffering truly cannot be escaped; Wherever I look, it stretches vast and dim. At such times I touch the iron wall, And the copper rampart seems it should be pierced. That is why those who enter through the gate Eventually abandon the highest path. Especially now, in a small, turbid age— One glance and my brows knit tight. A true man has his own tears; At the road's end, he cries out to the blue sky. But cry as he might, there's no third reply; Only the echo returns from the empty valley. Spirit and vital force dissolve into emptiness— Why should this principle cause resentment? Look at the process of transformation itself— It's hard to fathom its deep source. If something stands tall and clear, Only when morning and evening meet is it complete.