The master, taking the high seat in the hall, said, “On your lump of red flesh is a true man without rank who is always going in and out of the face of every one of you. Those who have not yet confirmed this, look, look!”
Then a monk came forward and asked, “What about the true man without rank?” The master got down from his seat, seized the monk, and cried, “Speak, speak!” The monk faltered. Shoving him away, the master said, “The true man without rank—what kind of dried piece of shit is he!” Then he returned to his quarters.
Submitted February 08, 2020 at 05:44PM by Kyuu-bi https://ift.tt/2ukXZI8
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