原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
太保刺虎
The Tiger Slain
他兩個鬥了有一個時辰，只見那虎爪慢腰鬆，被太保舉叉平胸刺倒。可憐啊，鋼叉尖穿透心肝，霎時間血流滿地。揪著耳朵，拖上路來。好男子，氣不連喘，面不改色，對三藏道：「造化，造化。這隻山貓，夠長老食用一日。」三藏誇讚不盡道：「太保真山神也！」伯欽道：「有何本事，敢勞過獎？這個是長老的洪福。去來，趕早兒剝了皮，煮些肉，管待你也。」他两个斗了有一个时辰，只见那虎爪慢腰松，被太保举叉平胸刺倒。可怜啊，钢叉尖穿透心肝，霎时间血流满地。揪著耳朵，拖上路来。好男子，气不连喘，面不改色，对三藏道：「造化，造化。这只山猫，够长老食用一日。」三藏夸赞不尽道：「太保真山神也！」伯钦道：「有何本事，敢劳过奖？这个是长老的洪福。去来，赶早儿剥了皮，煮些肉，管待你也。」
逐句解 Line by line
他兩個鬥了有一個時辰，只見那虎爪慢腰鬆，被太保舉叉平胸刺倒。可憐啊，鋼叉尖穿透心肝，霎時間血流滿地。揪著耳朵，拖上路來。好男子，氣不連喘，面不改色，對三藏道：「造化，造化。這隻山貓，夠長老食用一日。」三藏誇讚不盡道：「太保真山神也！」伯欽道：「有何本事，敢勞過獎？這個是長老的洪福。去來，趕早兒剝了皮，煮些肉，管待你也。」
他两个斗了有一个时辰，只见那虎爪慢腰松，被太保举叉平胸刺倒。可怜啊，钢叉尖穿透心肝，霎时间血流满地。揪著耳朵，拖上路来。好男子，气不连喘，面不改色，对三藏道：「造化，造化。这只山猫，够长老食用一日。」三藏夸赞不尽道：「太保真山神也！」伯钦道：「有何本事，敢劳过奖？这个是长老的洪福。去来，赶早儿剥了皮，煮些肉，管待你也。」
The two of them had fought for the space of an hour when the tiger's claws slackened and its loins grew slack, and the Guardian, raising his trident, ran it straight through its breast and felled it. Alas for the beast — the steel prongs pierced clean through its heart and liver, and in an instant its blood ran out and covered the ground. He seized it by the ears and dragged it up onto the path. A fine fellow: his breath came without panting, and his colour never changed, as he said to Sanzang: “What luck, what luck! This mountain-cat will keep the elder in food for a whole day.” Sanzang praised him without end, saying: “The Guardian is a very mountain-god!” Boqin said: “What skill have I, that I should merit such praise? This is the elder's own good fortune. Come, let us skin it early and boil some of the meat to make you a meal.”
山貓 (shān māo), “mountain-cat,” is again Boqin's offhand word for the tiger. His unruffled ease — no panting, no change of colour — is the mark of the seasoned hunter, and stands in deliberate contrast to the monk fainting on the grass a moment before.
總評 Commentary
The fight is resolved with a single decisive thrust, and the contrast the chapter has been building is completed. Where Sanzang could only faint, Boqin dispatches the tiger without so much as quickening his breath, and turns at once to the practical business of skinning and cooking it. His self-deprecation — “what skill have I?” — and his crediting the kill to “the elder's own good fortune” lend the rough hunter a touch of grace; and the tiger, so lately the presiding terror of the chapter, is reduced to a “mountain-cat” and a day's provisions. The passage closes the wilderness ordeal and opens onto the hospitality of the farmstead, toward which Boqin now leads the pilgrim.