須尋佛地 He Must Look for a Buddha Place
當時多官齊賀，頂禮聖教御文，遍傳內外。太宗道：「御弟將真經演誦一番，何如？」長老道：「主公，若演真經，須尋佛地。寶殿非可誦之處。」当时多官齐贺，顶礼圣教御文，遍传内外。太宗道：「御弟将真经演诵一番，何如？」长老道：「主公，若演真经，须寻佛地。宝殿非可诵之处。」
逐句解 Line by line
At that the officers all congratulated him together, bowed their heads to the imperial text of the Holy Teaching, and passed it round within the palace and without.
頂禮 — to touch the head to the ground. It is the deepest Buddhist bow there is, and the whole Tang court is giving it to a piece of writing. 遍傳內外 — passed round inside and out. Within an hour of the emperor calling his composition rustic doggerel, copies of it are circulating.
Taizong said, “Suppose my royal brother were to expound and recite the true scriptures once through — how would that be?”
演誦 — to expound and to chant. Two things at once: reading aloud and explaining. And it is the obvious next step. The scriptures have been fetched across the world, handed over, counted and filed. Somebody should probably read them. 何如 — how about it? He asks rather than orders, as he has all day.
The elder said: “Your Majesty — if the true scriptures are to be expounded, a buddha-place must be looked for.”
須尋佛地 — one must seek out a buddha-ground. The Tang monk is refusing, politely, on procedural grounds. He has spent the whole chapter accepting things: the horse, the chair, the banquet, the preface. This is the first thing he has said no to, and it is about where.
“A palace hall is not a place where they may be recited.”
Seven characters, said to an emperor in his own hall. 非可誦之處 — not a place for reciting. 處 is read chù here, a place. Sixty lines ago in the preface the same character was chǔ, the verb of dwelling. One character, two words, in one chapter. And the point stands. The scriptures have been treated all day as freight and paperwork. The moment somebody proposes to actually use them, their carrier says the throne room will not do.
The whole court bows its head to the ground in front of a piece of writing, and copies of it are going round the palace within the hour — an hour after the man who wrote it called it rustic doggerel.
Then the emperor proposes the obvious thing, and it is startling how late it comes. The scriptures have been carried across the world, handed over, counted, listed and filed, and only now does anybody suggest that somebody read them.
And the Tang monk says no. It is the first refusal he has made all chapter — he has taken the horse, the chair, the banquet and the preface without a murmur — and it is about location. A palace hall is not a place where scripture may be recited. The scriptures have been treated as cargo all day, and the moment somebody proposes to use them their carrier says the throne room will not do.