Serenely, nothing changes, nothing to be done;
With no affairs, why argue over this or that?
The true heart is not scattered or confused;
Other matters need not be severed or refused.
The past is already gone;
Why calculate the future, come what may?
Serenely, nothing ever truly was;
When people call you to seek effort outside,
They are always foolish, stubborn men.
Not storing a single grain of rice,
When food comes, they only know to curse.
The world is full of busy affairs,
Human matters chase each other in a race.
All utterly unlike me—
I do not delight in being born in heaven,
Nor do I accept fields of blessed fortune.
When hungry, a bowl of rice;
When tired, stretch out my legs and sleep.
Fools think this laughable,
The wise say it is so.
Neither foolish nor wise,
It is not mystery within mystery.
If you want to go, go just like this;
If you want to stay, stay just like this.
Body clad in a tattered robe,
Feet shod in the pants one was born with.
Much talk and many words,
From ancient times have only led astray.
If you wish to ferry all sentient beings across,
There's no better way than to ferry yourself first.
Do not vainly seek the true Buddha;
The true Buddha cannot be seen.
The wondrous nature and the spiritual terrace—
How could they ever be refined or tempered?
The mind is a mind with no affairs;
The face is the face one was born with.
Even a kalpa-rock may shake and crumble,
But within this, there is no change at all.
With no affairs, why read written words?
Cut away the root of self and others,
Merge darkly with the meaning within.
All kinds of toil that strain the sinews and bones—
Better to sleep beneath the woods, utterly still.
Lift your head and see the sun rise;
Beg for food, start from the very beginning.
To apply effort with effort,
Leads only to turning in dim confusion.
If you grasp, you cannot attain;
If you do not grasp, it comes through naturally.
I have one saying:
Cut off thoughts, forget conditions—
Clever speech cannot convey it; it must be transmitted mind to mind.
And there is one more phrase:
Nothing surpasses direct giving.
Fine as the tip of a hair,
Vast without boundary or place.
Originally perfect and complete,
No need for loom or shuttle's toil.
Worldly affairs stretch on and on;
They are not like mountains and hills.
Green pines shade the sun;
Blue streams are ever autumn-cool.
Mountain clouds serve as my curtain;
The night moon is my hook.
Lying beneath the wisteria vines,
A lump of stone for my pillow.
I do not court the Son of Heaven;
How could I envy princes and lords?
Life and death hold no concern;
What more is there to grieve?
The moon and water have no form;
I am always simply at peace.
All dharmas are just like this;
Originally, there is no birth.
Serenely, sitting with no affairs—
When spring comes, the grass turns green by itself.