Some masters have left in the form of verse known as “Ge” (_gāthā_) what they perceived or felt at the time when their mental eye was opened. The verse has the special name of “Tōki-no-ge”[f112][5.22] and from the following translations the reader may draw his own conclusions as to the nature and content of a satori so highly prized by the Zen followers. But there is one thing to which I like to call his attention, which is that the contents of these gāthās are so varied and dissimilar as far as their literary and intelligible sense is concerned that one may be at a loss how to make a comparison of these divers exclamations. Being sometimes merely descriptive verses of the feelings of the author at the moment of satori, analysis is impossible unless the critic himself has once experienced them in his own inner life. Nevertheless these verses will be of interest to the psychological students of Buddhist mysticism even as merely emotional utterances of the supreme moment. The following is by Chōkei (Chang-ching, died 932) whose eye was opened when he was rolling up the screen: “How deluded I was! How deluded, indeed! Lift up the screen, and come see the world! ‘What religion believest thou?’ you ask. I raise my hossu[f113] and hit your mouth.”[5.23] Hōyen (Fa-yen) of Gosozan (wu-tso-shan), who died in 1104, succeeded Shutan (Shou-tuan), of Haku-un (Pai-yün), and was the teacher of Yengo (Yüan-wu), composed the following when his mental eye was first opened: “A patch of farm land quietly lies by the hill, Crossing my hands over the chest I ask the old farmer kindly: ‘How often have you sold it and bought it back by yourself?’ I like the pines and bamboos that invite a refreshing breeze.”[5.24] Yengo (Yüan-wu, 1063–1135) was one of the greatest teachers in the Sung dynasty and the author of a Zen textbook known as the _Hekiganshu_. His verse stands in such contrast to that of his teacher, Hōyen, and the reader will find it hard to unearth anything of Zen from the following romanticism: “The golden duck no more issues odorous smoke behind the brocade screens, Amidst flute-playing and singing, he retreats, thoroughly in liquor and supported by others: A happy event in the life of a romantic youth, It is his sweetheart alone that is allowed to know.”[5.25] Yenju, of Yōmeiji (Yung-ming Yen-shou, 904–975), who belonged to the Hōgen School of Zen Buddhism, was the author of a book called “Shukyōroku” (_Record of Truth-Mirror_) in one hundred fasciculi, and flourished in the early Sung. His realisation took place when he heard a bundle of fuel dropping on the ground. “Something dropped! It is no other thing; Right and left, there is nothing earthy: Rivers and mountains and the great earth,— In them all revealed is the Body of the Dharmarāja.”[5.26]