原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
苔蘚盈庭 Fireflies for Lamps
苔蘚盈庭，蒿蓁滿徑；惟螢火之飛燈，只蛙聲而代漏。長老忽然吊下淚來。苔藓盈庭，蒿蓁满径；惟萤火之飞灯，只蛙声而代漏。长老忽然吊下泪来。
逐句解 Line by line
苔蘚盈庭，蒿蓁滿徑；
苔藓盈庭，蒿蓁满径；
moss filling the courtyard, weeds choking the paths;
蒿蓁 pairs two names for coarse scrub. Both halves of this line put growing things where flagstones should be.
惟螢火之飛燈，只蛙聲而代漏。
惟萤火之飞灯，只蛙声而代漏。
only fireflies for flying lamps, and only frog-song in place of the water-clock.
The 漏 is the drip-clock that measured the night watches in any establishment large enough to keep time. Frogs have taken over the job, which means nobody has struck a watch here in years.
長老忽然吊下淚來。
长老忽然吊下泪来。
All at once the elder let his tears fall.
Eight characters. It is the second time in the chapter he has wept, and this time nobody has asked him for anything.
The two images are perfectly matched and both say the same thing: the functions of the place are being performed by wildlife. Insects do the lighting, frogs keep the hours.
His tears are worth taking seriously. Tripitaka cried earlier over a stranger's story and was manipulated into it. Here nobody is working on him at all — he has pushed open a gate and found a house of his own religion with nobody in it, and the grief is entirely his own.