"I know not who sweeps the ground, only that the grass is a mix of green and yellow. If one wishes to inquire about the events of that time, let the spring breeze blow through the wild pear trees...?"
Kongjian, shocked and astonished, looked at the Sweeping Monk on the Scripture Pavilion, muttering to himself the lines of the poem he had just recited. Picking himself up off the ground, he pressed his palms together and said, "Amitabha Buddha, may I know which generation of venerable monks you belong to in our temple? How come none of us, the many monks, have ever heard of you or seen you before?"
Monks such as Du Jie, Du Nan, and Du E all turned their gaze upon the Sweeping Monk, their minds buzzing in utter chaos.
