吳生繪聖 Wu Daozi Paints the Bodhisattva
喜的個唐太宗忘了江山,愛的那文武官失卻朝禮,蓋眾多人都念「南無觀世音菩薩」。太宗即傳旨,教巧手丹青描下菩薩真像。旨意一聲,選出個圖神寫聖、遠見高明的吳道子(此人即後圖功臣於凌煙閣者)。當時展開妙筆,圖寫真形。那菩薩祥雲漸遠,霎時間不見了金光。只見那半空中滴溜溜落下一張簡帖,上有幾句頌子,寫得明白。喜的个唐太宗忘了江山,爱的那文武官失却朝礼,盖众多人都念「南无观世音菩萨」。太宗即传旨,教巧手丹青描下菩萨真像。旨意一声,选出个图神写圣、远见高明的吴道子(此人即后图功臣于凌烟阁者)。当时展开妙笔,图写真形。那菩萨祥云渐远,霎时间不见了金光。只见那半空中滴溜溜落下一张简帖,上有几句颂子,写得明白。
逐句解 Line by line
So delighted was Tang Taizong that he forgot his realm; so enraptured were the civil and military officers that they lost their court-decorum; and the whole multitude chanted, 'Namo Guanshiyin Bodhisattva.'
那 is the pointing nà; 都 in 都念, all chanted, is dōu. 南無, Namo, homage to, is the standard opening of an invocation and is read ná mó, not by the ordinary values of the two characters. Note what the two clauses give up: the emperor forgets his realm, the officials forget court ritual. Everything the chapter has been built on is dropped at once.
Taizong at once issued a command, having a skilled painter sketch down the true image of the Bodhisattva.
教 in 教巧手, having a skilled hand do it, is jiào. 丹青 is cinnabar and azure, the two costly pigments, and stands for painting itself — much as we might say a man works in oils.
At the word of command, they chose out Wu Daozi, a painter of gods and sages, of far sight and high skill — this was the man who later painted the meritorious ministers in the Lingyan Pavilion.
吳道子, Wu Daozi, with the name-子 read zǐ, is the greatest religious painter of the Tang — and he was born about a century after Taizong died, so the storyteller is bending the calendar to get the best possible hand onto the job. The 凌煙閣, Lingyan Pavilion, held Taizong's portraits of the ministers who founded his dynasty.
At once he spread out his marvelous brush and painted her true form. That Bodhisattva's auspicious clouds gradually receded, and in an instant the golden light was seen no more.
那 is the pointing nà. The timing is the whole point: the clouds withdraw at the moment the brush finishes. What stays behind in the world is the painting.
There was only seen, whirling down from mid-air, a slip of paper, on which were a few lines of gatha, written out plainly.
那 is the pointing nà; 得 in 寫得, written, is the outcome de; 頌子, a gatha, takes the toneless suffix 子 (zi). The doubled 滴溜溜 is a sound-word for something spinning as it falls: heaven's instructions arrive turning over in the air, like a dropped leaf.
The apparition's aftermath binds the divine event to human institutions. Emperor and court, overcome, chant the invocation of Guanyin; and Taizong, characteristically, moves at once to memorialise the vision in art, commissioning a painted likeness.
The narrator's aside identifying the painter as Wu Daozi — the most celebrated master of Tang religious painting, though in fact born a century too late — is a knowing anachronism that lends the fictional theophany the prestige of real cultural memory, and links it to the Lingyan Pavilion, the actual shrine of Taizong's dynastic founders. The image is fixed just as the clouds recede, and then heaven supplies its own text: a gatha-slip flutters down, turning a wordless vision into an explicit charge.