Hearing this, the patriarch was secretly glad, and said: 'Put that way, you are a thing formed by Heaven and Earth itself.

祖師聞言暗喜 ('hearing this, the patriarch was secretly glad'; 暗 àn). The reason is given at once: 卻是個天地生成的 ('he is a thing formed by Heaven and Earth itself') — the monkey's parentless, stone-born origin is exactly what makes him a perfect, unconditioned vessel for the Way.

Get up and walk about, and let me see you.' The Monkey King sprang to his feet and waddled back and forth a couple of times.

縱身跳起 ('sprang up'; 縱 zòng). 拐呀拐的走了兩遍 ('waddled back and forth a couple of times'; 拐 guǎi, to walk lamely or waddle, with the colloquial particle 呀). The master watches his gait — and it gives him the idea for the surname.

The patriarch laughed: 'Mean and ugly though your frame is, you do look like a pine-nut-eating macaque (húsūn).

身軀雖是鄙陋 ('mean and ugly though your frame is'; 鄙陋, coarse and unsightly). The key word is 猢猻 (hú sūn), the ordinary word for a macaque — the master will mine its two graphs for the monkey's surname.

I'll take a surname for you from your very body — my thought is to surname you 'Hú' (猢).

就身上取個姓氏 ('take a surname from your very body'). 教你姓「猢」 — here 教 is jiào ('to have, to cause'), and 姓 is the verb 'to be surnamed.' The master begins with 猢, the first graph of 猢猻.

But if you take the 'beast' radical off 猢, you're left with 古月 ('old' and 'moon'): 古 means 'old,' and 月 means 'yin.'

猢字去了個獸傍，乃是個古月 ('strip the beast-radical 犭 from 猢 and you have 古月'; 傍, here for 旁, the radical-element, read páng). The master glosses each part in the classical 者…也 definitional pattern: 古者老也 ('古 means old'), 月者陰也 ('月 means yin').

Aged yin cannot beget and nurture — so it would be better to surname you 'Sūn' (猻).

老陰不能化育 ('aged yin cannot beget and nurture'; 化育, to transform and rear, i.e. to procreate; 不能 takes 不 as bù before the rising tone of 能). Because 古月 spells 'aged yin,' barren of generative power, the master rejects 猢 and turns to 猻 — 教你姓猻倒好 ('better to surname you Sūn'; 倒, 'rather, instead').

Take the 'beast' radical off 猻, and you're left with 子系 ('child' and 'thread'):

猻字去了獸傍，乃是個子系 ('strip the beast-radical from 猻 and you have 子系'; 子 zǐ, 系 xì) — the two elements that will compose the surname 孫.

子 means 'a boy-child,' and 系 means 'infant, small' — which fits exactly the very idea of an infant.

子者，兒男也；系者，嬰細也 ('子 means a boy-child; 系 means infant-small'; 兒男, a son; 嬰 an infant; 細 fine/small). 正合嬰兒之本論 ('which fits exactly the very idea of an infant') — the surname is chosen for its sense of new, generative youth, the opposite of the barren 'aged yin.'

So I'll surname you 'Sūn' (孫), then.'

教你姓「孫」罷 ('so I'll surname you Sūn, then'). The surname 孫 (sūn) — built from 子 ('child') — is fixed. The creature who has been 石猴 and 美猴王 now, for the first time, has a family name.

When the Monkey King heard this, his heart filled with joy, and he kowtowed upward, saying: 'Splendid! Splendid! Splendid! Today at last I know I have a surname.

朝上叩頭 ('kowtowed upward'; 朝 here cháo, 'to face, toward'). 今日方知姓也 ('today I finally know a surname'; 方, 'only now') — the monkey's triple 好！好！好！ and his delight at simply having a surname is the human comedy beneath the cosmic moment.

I beg the master's mercy: now that I have a surname, grant me also a given name, the better to be called by.'

既然有姓，再乞賜個名字 ('now that I have a surname, grant me also a given name'; 乞 qǐ, to beg; 賜 cì, to bestow). 卻好呼喚 ('the better to be called by') — having gained a surname, he wants the personal name to go with it.

The patriarch said: 'In my school there are twelve characters, assigned in turn for naming, and you fall in the tenth generation, a junior disciple.'

我門中有十二個字，分派起名 ('in my school there are twelve characters, assigned in turn for naming') — a real practice of Chinese lineages, religious and familial, in which a generational character marks one's place. 到你乃第十輩之小徒矣 ('you fall in the tenth generation, a junior disciple'; 輩 bèi, generation; 矣 the classical final particle).

The Monkey King said: 'Which twelve characters?'

那十二個字 ('which twelve characters?'; 那 nǎ, the interrogative 'which').

The patriarch said: 'They are the twelve — Broad, Great, Wisdom, Sage, True, Thus, Nature, Sea, Bright, Awaken, Round, Enlightened.

The twelve generational characters: 廣、大、智、慧、真、如、性、海、穎、悟、圓、覺 ('Broad, Great, Wisdom, Sage, True, Thus, Nature, Sea, Bright, Awaken, Round, Enlightened'). The list is itself Buddhist-flavoured — 真如 (tathatā, 'Suchness') and 圓覺 ('perfect enlightenment') are doctrinal terms. The ninth graph is 穎 (yǐng, 'bright, sharp-tipped'), the 維基文庫 reading; some editions print the variant 頴.

Counting down to you, it falls exactly on 'Wù' (悟, 'awaken'). I'll give you the dharma-name 'Sun Wukong' (孫悟空) — how's that?'

排到你，正當「悟」字 ('counting down to you, it falls exactly on 悟'; 排 pái, to rank; 悟 wù, 'to awaken, realize'). The master joins it to the surname: the 法名 ('dharma-name') 孫悟空 ('Sun Wukong'), literally 'Sūn Awakened-to-Emptiness' (悟 'awaken' + 空 'emptiness, void'). The name the world will know him by is spoken at last.

The Monkey King laughed: 'Splendid! Splendid! Splendid! From this day I'll be called Sun Wukong.'

自今就叫做孫悟空也 ('from this day I'll be called Sun Wukong'). The naming-by-stages that ran from 石猴 ('the stone monkey') to 美猴王 ('the Handsome Monkey King') reaches its end: he is now 孫悟空.

Truly it was:

正是 ('truly it was') cues the chapter's closing couplet.

In the first cleaving of primordial chaos, there were no surnames at all;

鴻蒙初闢原無姓 ('in the first cleaving of primordial chaos, there were no surnames at all'; 鴻蒙, the undifferentiated primal chaos; 闢 pì, to cleave open). The line reaches back to the chapter's cosmogonic opening — before names, before distinctions — and frames the monkey's namelessness as a kind of primal purity.

to shatter the stubborn void, one must awaken to the void — Wukong.

打破頑空須悟空 ('to shatter the stubborn void, one must awaken to the void'). The name becomes a teaching: 頑空 ('stubborn,' dead emptiness — a Buddhist term for a false, nihilistic grasp of 'emptiness') must be broken through by 悟空, which is both the monkey's name and the imperative 'awaken to emptiness' (悟 'awaken' + 空 kōng). The pun fuses the hero's identity with the spiritual goal the chapter, titled 大道生 ('the Great Dao is born'), has moved toward.

There is no telling yet what fruit of the Way he would cultivate hereafter; so listen to the next chapter, and all will be explained.

畢竟不知向後修些甚麼道果，且聽下回分解 — the conventional storyteller's chapter-ending: 'there is no telling yet what fruit of the Way he would cultivate hereafter; listen to the next chapter, and all will be explained' (不知 takes 不 as bù before the level tone of 知). 道果 ('the fruit of the Way') points ahead to the immortality arts the master will teach in 第二回.