Canonical Classics ← 第十二回
第十二回
tángwángbǐngchéngxiūhuì
guānyīnxiǎnshènghuàjīnchán

The Tang King, Sincere in Faith, Convenes the Grand Assembly · Guanyin, Manifesting Her Holy Form, Transforms the Golden Cicada

徒眾問誓
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拼音 Pinyin Off
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原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition

徒眾問誓 The Disciples' Question

xuánzànghuíhóngběnduōsēngzǎowénjīngzhīshìdōuláixiāngjiànyīnwèn:「shìyuànshàng西tiānshífǒu?」xuánzàngdào:「shìshí。」dào:「shīachángwénrényán西tiānyuǎngèngduōbàoyāozhǐyǒuhuínánbǎoshēnmìng。」xuánzàngdào:「lehóngshìyuànzhēnjīngyǒngduòchénlúnshìshòuwángēnchǒngjìnzhōngbàoguóěrzhēnshìmiǎomiǎomángmángxiōngnándìng。」yòudào:「menzhīhòuhuòsānèrniánhuòniándànkànshānménsōngzhītóuxiàngdōnghuíláiránduànhuí。」zhòngjiāngyánqiēqiēérxuánzànghuíhóngběnduōsēngzǎowénjīngzhīshìdōuláixiāngjiànyīnwèn:「shìyuànshàng西tiānshífǒu?」xuánzàngdào:「shìshí。」dào:「shīachángwénrényán西tiānyuǎngèngduōbàoyāozhǐyǒuhuínánbǎoshēnmìng。」xuánzàngdào:「lehóngshìyuànzhēnjīngyǒngduòchénlúnshìshòuwángēnchǒngjìnzhōngbàoguóěrzhēnshìmiǎomiǎomángmángxiōngnándìng。」yòudào:「menzhīhòuhuòsānèrniánhuòniándànkànshānménsōngzhītóuxiàngdōnghuíláiránduànhuí。」zhòngjiāngyánqiēqiēér


逐句解 Line by line

xuánzànghuíhóngběnduōsēngzǎowénjīngzhīshìdōuláixiāngjiànyīnwèn:「shìyuànshàng西tiānshífǒu?」 xuánzànghuíhóngběnduōsēngzǎowénjīngzhīshìdōuláixiāngjiànyīnwèn:「shìyuànshàng西tiānshífǒu?」

Xuanzang, too, returned to the Hongfu Temple. The many monks of that temple and several of his disciples, having already heard of the scripture-seeking, all came to see him, and asked: 'Is it true that you have sworn a vow to go up to the Western Heaven?'

is demonstrative ; in 都來 ('all came') is dōu; in 相見 ('to see [him]') is xiāng.

xuánzàngdào:「shìshí。」dào:「shīachángwénrényán西tiānyuǎngèngduōbàoyāozhǐyǒuhuínánbǎoshēnmìng。」 xuánzàngdào:「shìshí。」dào:「shīachángwénrényán西tiānyuǎngèngduōbàoyāozhǐyǒuhuínánbǎoshēnmìng。」

Xuanzang said: 'It is true.' His disciples said: 'Master — we have often heard it said that the road to the Western Heaven is long, and full besides of tigers and leopards, of demons and monsters. We fear only that you will go and not return, and that your life cannot be preserved.'

in 更多 ('yet more') is gèng; in 難保 ('hard to preserve') is nán.

xuánzàngdào:「lehóngshìyuànzhēnjīngyǒngduòchénlún xuánzàngdào:「lehóngshìyuànzhēnjīngyǒngduòchénlún

Xuanzang said: 'I have already sworn a great and solemn vow: that if I do not fetch the true scriptures, I shall fall forever into the hell of perdition.'

The monk repeats to his disciples the absolute vow he swore before the emperor and the Buddha.

shìshòuwángēnchǒngjìnzhōngbàoguóěrzhēnshìmiǎomiǎomángmángxiōngnándìng。」 shìshòuwángēnchǒngjìnzhōngbàoguóěrzhēnshìmiǎomiǎomángmángxiōngnándìng。」

'In the main, having received the king's grace and favor, I cannot but exhaust my loyalty to repay the state. This journey of mine is truly vast and uncertain, and whether it ends in fortune or in ill is hard to say.'

in 不得不 ('cannot but') is . Xuanzang frames the pilgrimage in the Confucian language of loyal service (盡忠報國) as much as of Buddhist vow.

yòudào:「menzhīhòuhuòsānèrniánhuòniándànkànshānménsōngzhītóuxiàngdōnghuíláiránduànhuí。」 yòudào:「menzhīhòuhuòsānèrniánhuòniándànkànshānménsōngzhītóuxiàngdōnghuíláiránduànhuí。」

And he said: 'My disciples, after I have gone — it may be two or three years, it may be five or seven — only watch the pine-branch within the temple gate: when its tips turn to the east, I shall be coming back; if not, then I shall surely not return.'

is demonstrative ; in 向東 ('turn east') is xiàng. The pine-branch that turns eastward is a folk omen of the traveler's return — a homely token amid the solemn vows.

zhòngjiāngyánqiēqiēér zhòngjiāngyánqiēqiēér

The disciples earnestly took his words to heart.

in 將此言 is the disposal jiāng. The sign of the pine will be remembered and watched.


總評 Commentary

Back at his own temple, Xuanzang meets the natural fear of those who love him: the road is long and beset with monsters, and they doubt he will return alive. His answer joins the two moral vocabularies the chapter has braided throughout — he cannot but 'exhaust his loyalty to repay the state,' the language of the Confucian minister, in service of a Buddhist vow sworn on pain of eternal hell. And to the abstract terror of the journey he adds one concrete, human token: the pine-branch by the gate, whose eastward turning will signal his return. It is a small domestic detail of great tenderness, grounding the cosmic undertaking in the ordinary hope of those left behind, and it will indeed be watched, years hence, for the sign of his coming home.