One Thought, a Mortal Life · Above and Below, All Connected · 101 / 102
· Clamor and Stillness
A world of snow without a speck of dust, heaven itself its setting; a holds the mountain and the bursting waterfall. On the a thought arises and takes in ; across ten thousand ravines, clear mountain mist floats on a far sea.
Having walked every pass and river, I know the nature of things; half a chopstickful of hurries on the drinking game. The heart clear and still, idle as the clouds, I lie sprawled across the splendid feast and hear a distant chime.
Glosses—
Far [jiǒng]: remote, distant;
Chopstick [zhù]: chopsticks;
Chime [qìng]: an ancient instrument, used mostly in Buddhist temples.
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