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Gentling the Bull –  Entering the Market-place with Bliss bestowing hands

The brush-wood gate is firmly shut and neither sage nor Buddha can see him. He has deeply buried his light and permits himself to differ from the well-established ways of the old masters. Carrying a gourd, he enters the market; twirling his staff, he returns home. He frequents wine-shops and fish-stalls to make the drunkards open their eyes and awaken to themselves.

1
Bare-chested and bare-footed he enters the market,
Face streaked with dust and head covered with ashes,
But a mighty laugh spreads from cheek to cheek.
Without troubling himself to work miracles, suddenly dead trees break into bloom.
2
In friendly fashion this fellow comes from a foreign race,
With features like those of a horse, or again like a donkey.
But on shaking his iron staff, all of a sudden
All gates and doors spring wide open for him.
3
From out of his sleeve the iron rod flies right into the face.
With a great laugh spread all over his face,
He talks Mongolian, or speaks in Chinese.
Wide open the palace gates to the one who on meeting himself yet remains unknown.