A monk asked Hsüeh-fêng, "How can one touch sanctity?" Hsüeh-fêng answered, "A mere innocent cannot do it." "If he forgets himself," the monk asked again, "can he touch sanctity?" "He may do so in so far as he is concerned," Hsüeh-fêng replied. "Then," continued the monk, "what happens to him?" "A bee never returns to his abandoned hive."
My poem:
Ten mountains leaping alive in the soundless winter vastness.
A flute made of black iron, without any holes to blow into.
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