Too much knowledge leads to overactivity; Better to calm the mind. The more you consider, the greater the loss; Better to unify the mind. Excessive thinking weakens the will. The more you know, the more your mind is confused The confused mind gives rise to vexation. The weakened will obstructs the Dao. Don’t say there is no harm in this, The ensuing pain may last forever. Don’t think there is nothing to fear, The calamities churn like bubbles in a boiling pot. Water dripping ceaselessly. Will fill the four seas. Specks of dust not wiped away Will become the five mountains. Protect the branches to save the roots; Though a small matter, it is not trivial. Close the seven orifices, Shut off the six senses. Pay no heed to forms; Do not listen to sounds. Listening to sounds you become deaf, You become blind observing forms. Literature and art Are but busy gnats in the air; Technique and ability A solitary lamp in the sun. Those able and talented ones Are really stupid fellows. Discarding the pure and simple They drown in too much beauty. Consciousness is an untamed horse, The mind is an unruly monkey. If the spirit is overactive, The body will sicken and die. Wrong conduct ends in delusion; Those treading this path become mired in mud. To regard ability as precious Is called confusion. To exaggerate clumsiness and covet skill Does not lead to great virtue. Of much fame but little contribution, Their reputation quickly crumbles. Merely reading books Is of no lasting value. Being inwardly proud Brings the enmity of others. Using speech Or written words To gain the praise of others Is something more repulsive. What common people regard as auspicious The sage takes as evil. The enjoyment gained is fleeting, But the sorrow everlasting. Beware of shadows and tracks; The farther you leave them the better. Sitting upright in the shade of a tree, Neither traces nor shadows remain. Worries of birth and distress of old age Are products of your own thoughts. If the mind´s thinking is ended, Birth and death are forever cut off. Not dying, not born, Without form or name The Dao is empty and tranquil. The myriad phenomena are equal. What is of value? What is cheap? Where is there shame or glory? What is excellent or inferior? How can there be light or heavy? The clear sky puts purity to shame. No brightness compares with the brilliant sun. Stable as Mount Tái; Steady as a golden wall. I respectfully present this poem To all virtuousnones So that this Dao will forever remain.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Jun 2013 04:23:16 +0000
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