Last night’s dream decants Dongting Lake,
Pours the green of Mount Jun into a bottle,
Tips it to stew the full moon,
Swirls around to bathe a cluster of stars.
A crane comes to take the precepts,
A group of dragons arrives to hear a sutra.
Is there someone who can play a flute
To wake me from beneath the pines?

♦

From Buddhist Masters of Modern China: The Lives and Legacies of Eight Eminent Teachers, edited by Benjamin Brose, used by permission of Shambhala Publications.

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