佛桌上开出的花朵（试译）
Flowers Growing Out of the Offering TableTranslated by: Cinderella in 2007
Early in the morning, before sunrise, in the spring grass glittering with dews, outside the gate of a Buddhist temple, kneed a man.
"Master, please forgive me!"
He was the most dissolute prodigal in the city, yet a young monk in this temple 20 years ago, who had once been a favourite with the Viharasvamin (Buddhist abbot). It was him that the Viharasvamin had taught without withholding anything, in the hope that he could become a distinguished Buddhist disciple. But one night, seized by sudden curiosity about the earthly world, he slipped away down the mountain. Dazzled by the rich and varied life in the city, he fell immediately into a licentious life. Day by day, night after night, he did nothing but lust for beautiful women.
Every night his body felt like bathing in the warm spring breeze; however, never did his mind rest at ease. Twenty years slipped by. During one mid-night in the temporary world he suddenly woke up. Outside his window the moonlight, translucent like water, streamed into his palm. Instantly he repented his life, put on his clothes in a hurry and rushed to the temple.
"Master, will you please forgive me and have me as your disciple once again?"
The Viharasvamin shook his head. This man had failed his expectations, and had been leading such a disgusting life. "No," he said, “you're so full of sin that you will sink in the last and deepest of the eight hot hells. No, I'll not forgive you until,” he pointed to the offering table without hesitation, “flowers could grow out of it.”
The prodigal left in despair.
So dumb-founded was the Viharasvamin the next morning when he stepped into the hall where they worshiped Buddha. Overnight clusters of flowers grew out of the offering table, some red, some white, all obtrusively fragrant. No wind was in the hall, but the blossoming flowers were rustling as if beckoning pressingly. Instantly he was enlightened. He rushed down the mountain to look for the prodigal – yet it was too late. The prodigal was so desperately disappointed that he sunk into his dissipated life once again.
And the blossom lasted only one day.
That night the Viharasvamin went into his perfect rest. He said in his death bed that no people who go astray could not repent; no mistakes in this world could not be corrected. A flash of true kindness across one’s mind is the rarest miracle like flowers growing out of the offering table. What makes the miracle vanish is nothing but a cold heart that will not forgive nor believe. 原文如下：
佛桌上开出的花朵
朝阳还未升起之前，庙前山门外凝满露珠的春草里。跪着一个人:“师傅，请原谅我。”
他是城中最风流的浪子。20年前却是庙里的小沙弥，极得方丈宠爱。方丈将毕生所学全数教授，希望他能成为佛门弟子；他却在一夜间动了凡心，偷下山去。五光十色的城市迷乱了他的眼睛。从此，花街柳巷，他只管放浪形骸。
夜夜都是春，却夜夜不是春。20年后的一个夜晚，他陡然清醒。窗外月色如水澄明，清澈地撒在他的掌心。他忽然深深忏悔，披衣而起，快马加鞭，赶往寺里。
“师傅。你肯饶恕我，再收我做弟子吗？”方丈痛恨他的辜负，也深深厌恶他的放荡，只是摇头。不！你罪孽深重，心堕阿鼻地狱，要想佛祖饶恕，除非——方丈信手一指供桌——连桌子也会开花。
浪子失望地离开了。
第二天早上，方丈踏进佛堂的时候，惊呆了。一夜间佛桌上开满了大簇大簇的花朵。红的、白的，每一朵都芳香逼人。佛堂里一丝风也没有，那些盛开的花朵却簌簌急摇，仿佛是在焦灼地召唤。方丈在瞬间大彻大悟。他连忙下山寻找浪子。却已经来不及了，心灰意冷的浪子重又堕入他原来的荒唐生活。
而佛桌上开出的那些花朵，只开放了短短的一天。
是夜，方丈圆寂，临终留言：这世上没有什么歧途不可以回头；没有什么错误不可以改正。一个真心向善的念头，是最罕有的奇迹，好象佛桌上开出的花朵。而让奇迹殒灭的，不是别的，正是那一颗冰冷的、不肯原谅和相信的心。
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