又說偈曰：靖節先生號五柳    吟詩論文不離酒    醉賞秋菊東籬下    覺看春泉南山左
觀雲無心自出岫    悟鳥倦飛雙還遊    木欣欣榮達萬物    宇宙變化無止休
From last issue:
In his poor household, there was no wine, / So he begged for some from neighbors and friends. /
He came out to serve as district magistrate, / But later hung up his cap and walked out.
He returned home. He wrote an essay called “The Return,” which contains the line, “I will not bend my waist for the sake of five pecks of rice. Thus, the verse here says: Unwilling to bow for five pecks.
Though his ideals were pure. His aspirations were pure and noble, but he had one fault: The cup was ever in his hand. He was addicted to wine. If he hadn’t been addicted to drinking, his wisdom would have become even more clear and bright, and he would have written even finer essays. It’s a pity he craved drink; all his essays have a faint whiff of wine about them, and his poems also have the slight flavor of wine. So he was called the “poet of the gardens and fields.”
Another verse says:
A gentleman of quiet integrity, he was called Mr. Five Willows.
Humming poetry and discussing essays, he was never without wine.
In a drunken stupor, he enjoyed the chrysanthemums of autumn by the eastern fence.
After waking up, he gazed at the fountains of spring to the left of the southern mountains.
He contemplated the clouds as they emerged from the mountains, free and easy,
And perceived the birds as they returned in pairs from their travels, weary of flying.
Seeing the plants thrive and flourish, he understood the myriad things.
The transformations of the universe continue without rest or pause.
A gentleman of quiet integrity, he was called Mr. Five Willows. / Humming poetry and discussing essays, he was never without wine. Others bestowed the posthumous title of “Gentleman of Quiet Integrity”; they called him by that name after his death. He was also called Mr. Five Willows. Whenever he composed poetry or wrote essays, he always had to drink a little wine.
In a drunken stupor, he enjoyed the chrysanthemums of autumn by the eastern fence. After he became drunk, he would remember his chrysanthemums, and then he would go down to the picket fence on the eastern side to pick chrysanthemums, feeling very carefree and pleased with himself. After waking up, he gazed at the fountains of spring to the left of the southern mountains. Once he woke up from his stupor, he would go out to take a look at the clear springs. There were mountains to the south of where he lived, and mountains to the left and right of those mountains. He must have lived in a mountainous area.
He contemplated the clouds as they emerged from the mountains, free and easy. He went to those places to watch the clouds. Gazing at the clouds, he saw that they have no mind; they emerged very spontaneously from the mountain valleys, or from halfway up the mountains, or from behind the mountain peaks. Clouds issued forth from every place without any premeditation. And perceived the birds as they returned in pairs from their travels, weary of flying. He saw that the myriad things of creation on the earth are born and die of themselves, coming and going on their own. For instance, birds instinctively will fly about, going out to different places during the daytime; but when it grows dark, they will return. They have a very acute sense of time.
Seeing the plants thrive and flourish, he understood the myriad things. Amidst the joyous prosperity of all the vegetation, he fathomed the truth of the myriad things. The transformations of the universe continue without rest or pause. Everything in the universe is undergoing transformation, changing from one form to another, following the laws of Nature, and proclaiming the Dharma. They never become lax or stop to rest; everything is there doing its own thing.