Dingfu, a man of rivers and seas, his gaunt bones like an ascetic immortal.
Lightly he arrived at my gate, not needing attendants to announce him.
I, weary of worldly dust, smiled gladly and welcomed him in.
Two worn bags hung from his shoulders; only upon meeting did he untie them.
I wished to prepare wine and food, to slaughter a chicken and cook fresh delicacies.
He declared himself a long-time vegetarian, untouched by worldly meat and spice.
After brief rest, he entered the western hills, roaming deep to every cliff and peak.
The mountains empty, no one in sight; with disdainful eyes he questioned the blue sky.
At a cave's mouth he met an old man, guarding death, content with a single book.
Lofty talk consoled the solitude—was it truly so, or not?
He left, reluctant to part, removing his robe to show diligence and sincerity.
Upon his return after many days, he lingered a while for my sake.
On the road he met a sick old woman, back bent, both feet cramped.
At the ferry, he saw stranded travelers, several mouths huddled in a broken boat.
He tended to them from dawn to dusk, hurrying through markets and streets.
With cramped feet, walking poorly, he built a hut leaning on a wall.
The boat beyond repair, he bought a vessel, spending ten thousand coins.
His considerations were extremely thorough, ensuring final safety and peace.
At dawn he planned to head east; by evening he circled back again.
Alas, you, a guest beyond the dust, yet bound by worldly ties.
I, in decline, cannot match this; ashamed, sweat and tears flow down.
Some suspect in those worn bags, he draws resources like a flowing spring.
Are you perhaps Fei Changfang, with a gourd hanging before the eaves?
Or maybe the old sage Gautama, whose saving dharma knows no bounds?
Urging you thus to come here, to rouse the stubborn from deep stupor.
Your teacher is the eastern sage of Lu; those two theories should be set aside.
Principle is one, manifestations diverse—earlier Confucians left these words.
Return and deliberate further; write to comfort my remaining years.