Prevod

This, too, happened long ago. A fearsome-looking mountain ascetic came to a certain house, grandly equipped with an axe on his back, a conch shell at his waist, and a ringed staff in his hand. He stood in the little courtyard behind the standing shutters of the retainers’ quarters. “What sort of holy man are you?” one of the retainers asked. “I have been living on Mount Hakusan,” he replied, “but I am going to Mount Mitake, where I intend to undertake a retreat of two thousand days. My provisions have run out. Please announce me to your master and ask him to provide for me.” As he stood there, they noticed a scar about two inches long on his forehead, between his eyebrows and his hairline. It was still red and not quite healed. “How did you come by that wound on your forehead?” a retainer asked. Assuming a most sanctimonious tone, the ascetic answered, “That is where I enclosed the Zuigu Dhāraṇī.” The retainers said to one another, “What an awe-inspiring thing! We have seen plenty of men who have cut off fingers or toes, but never anyone who split open his forehead to put a sacred spell inside.” Just then, a young retainer of seventeen or eighteen came running out and said with a grin, “Oh, what an absurd priest! What do you mean, you put the Zuigu Dhāraṇī in there? There’s a metalworker living directly east of young Master E’s house on Seventh Avenue. This fellow kept sneaking in to sleep with his wife. Last summer, when he was in bed with her, her husband came home unexpectedly. He fled without stopping to gather his things and ran west, but the husband caught up with him in front of the young master’s house and split his forehead open with a mallet. You saw it too, didn’t you, young master?” Astonished, everyone looked at the ascetic’s face. He showed not the slightest concern. With an air of perfect composure, he coolly said, “I put it in afterward.” At that, everyone burst out laughing, and in the confusion he slipped away.