Ice in the sky, snow on the ground,
Numberless tiny bugs die in the cold
or steep in hibernation.
In the midst of stillness you should contemplate,
and within movement you should investigate.
When you wrestle with dragons and subdue tigers
in continual playful sport,
Ghosts will cry and spirits wail; surrounding
transformations are strange.
True and actual meanings are cut off from words.
Not thought about or talked about;
you ought to advance with haste.
With the great and small destroyed;
with no inside or out,
Every mote of dust is an infinite Dharma realm,
Complete, whole, and perfectly fused,
interpenetrating without obstruction.
with two clenched fists break to pieces
the covering of empty space.
In one mouthful swallow
the source of seas of Buddhalands.
With great compassion rescue a11, sparing
no blood or sweat and never pause to rest.
-by Venerable Master