原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
含詞賦 With rhapsody
曉行季秋
Setting Out in Late Autumn
早又是竹敲殘月落，雞唱曉雲生。那眾僧起來，收拾茶水、早齋。玄奘遂穿了袈裟，上正殿，佛前禮拜道：「弟子陳玄奘，前往西天取經，但肉眼愚迷，不識活佛真形。今願立誓：路中逢廟燒香，遇佛拜佛，遇塔掃塔。但願我佛慈悲，早現丈六金身，賜真經，留傳東土。」祝罷，回方丈進齋。齋畢，那二從者整頓了鞍馬，促趲行程。三藏出了山門，辭別眾僧。眾僧不忍分別，直送有十里之遙，噙淚而返。三藏遂直西前進。正是那季秋天氣，但見：早又是竹敲残月落，鸡唱晓云生。那众僧起来，收拾茶水、早斋。玄奘遂穿了袈裟，上正殿，佛前礼拜道：「弟子陈玄奘，前往西天取经，但肉眼愚迷，不识活佛真形。今愿立誓：路中逢庙烧香，遇佛拜佛，遇塔扫塔。但愿我佛慈悲，早现丈六金身，赐真经，留传东土。」祝罢，回方丈进斋。斋毕，那二从者整顿了鞍马，促趱行程。三藏出了山门，辞别众僧。众僧不忍分别，直送有十里之遥，噙泪而返。三藏遂直西前进。正是那季秋天气，但见：
數村木落蘆花碎，幾樹楓楊紅葉墜。数村木落芦花碎，几树枫杨红叶坠。
路途煙雨故人稀，黃菊麗，山骨細，水寒荷破人憔悴。路途烟雨故人稀，黄菊丽，山骨细，水寒荷破人憔悴。
白蘋紅蓼霜天雪，落霞孤鶩長空墜。白苹红蓼霜天雪，落霞孤鹜长空坠。
依稀黯淡野雲飛，玄鳥去，賓鴻至，嘹嘹嚦嚦聲宵碎。依稀黯淡野云飞，玄鸟去，宾鸿至，嘹嘹呖呖声宵碎。
逐句解 Line by line
早又是竹敲殘月落，雞唱曉雲生。那眾僧起來，收拾茶水、早齋。玄奘遂穿了袈裟，上正殿，佛前禮拜道：「弟子陳玄奘，前往西天取經，但肉眼愚迷，不識活佛真形。今願立誓：路中逢廟燒香，遇佛拜佛，遇塔掃塔。但願我佛慈悲，早現丈六金身，賜真經，留傳東土。」祝罷，回方丈進齋。齋畢，那二從者整頓了鞍馬，促趲行程。三藏出了山門，辭別眾僧。眾僧不忍分別，直送有十里之遙，噙淚而返。三藏遂直西前進。正是那季秋天氣，但見：
早又是竹敲残月落，鸡唱晓云生。那众僧起来，收拾茶水、早斋。玄奘遂穿了袈裟，上正殿，佛前礼拜道：「弟子陈玄奘，前往西天取经，但肉眼愚迷，不识活佛真形。今愿立誓：路中逢庙烧香，遇佛拜佛，遇塔扫塔。但愿我佛慈悲，早现丈六金身，赐真经，留传东土。」祝罢，回方丈进斋。斋毕，那二从者整顿了鞍马，促趱行程。三藏出了山门，辞别众僧。众僧不忍分别，直送有十里之遥，噙泪而返。三藏遂直西前进。正是那季秋天气，但见：
Soon enough the bamboo tapped as the waning moon went down, and the cock crowed as the dawn clouds formed. The monks rose and set out tea-water and the early meal. Xuanzang then donned his cassock, went up to the main hall, and before the Buddha made his obeisance, saying: “Your disciple Chen Xuanzang goes to the Western Heaven to fetch the scriptures; but these fleshly eyes are dull and deluded, and cannot know the living Buddha's true form. Today I vow: on the road, wherever I come upon a shrine I shall burn incense; wherever I meet a Buddha I shall bow to the Buddha; wherever I meet a stūpa I shall sweep the stūpa. I only pray that our Buddha in his mercy will soon reveal his golden body of sixteen zhàng, and bestow the true scriptures, to be handed down in the Eastern Land.” His prayer done, he returned to the abbot's quarters and took the meal. When it was finished, his two attendants made ready the saddle-horse and urged the journey on. Sanzang came out of the mountain gate and took his leave of the monks; the monks could not bear to part from him, and escorted him a full ten lǐ before they turned back, their eyes brimming. Sanzang then went straight on toward the west. It was just that late-autumn weather, and this was the sight:
丈六金身 — the “golden body of sixteen zhàng,” a conventional measure of the Buddha's radiant, transfigured form (the unit 丈 zhàng, about ten Chinese feet, is left untranslated). 遇佛拜佛，遇塔掃塔 — “meeting a Buddha, bow to the Buddha; meeting a stūpa, sweep the stūpa” — a vow whose parallel, formulaic shape marks it as ritual speech. 里 (lǐ), the Chinese “mile,” is likewise left untranslated, with its tone mark.
數村木落蘆花碎，幾樹楓楊紅葉墜。
数村木落芦花碎，几树枫杨红叶坠。
About a few villages the trees are bare, the reed-flowers shattered; on a scattering of maples and poplars, red leaves come tumbling down.
A rhapsodic (賦) set-piece of deep autumn. 蘆花 (lú huā), the white plumes of reeds, are “shattered” by wind and frost; 楓楊, maples and poplars, shed their reddened leaves.
路途煙雨故人稀，黃菊麗，山骨細，水寒荷破人憔悴。
路途烟雨故人稀，黄菊丽，山骨细，水寒荷破人憔悴。
On the road, through mist and rain, old friends grow few; the yellow chrysanthemums are lovely, the mountains' bones are spare, the waters cold, the lotus broken, and the traveller worn and wan.
山骨 (shān gǔ), the “bones of the mountains,” is the bare rock showing through as the foliage falls; 荷破 is the lotus “broken,” its withered late-season leaves. The clipped three-word phrases (黃菊麗，山骨細) quicken the rhythm in the manner of rhapsodic description.
白蘋紅蓼霜天雪，落霞孤鶩長空墜。
白苹红蓼霜天雪，落霞孤鹜长空坠。
White duckweed and red knotweed lie like snow beneath the frosty sky; the sinking glow and a lone wild duck fall through the vast heavens.
落霞孤鶩 (“sinking sunset-glow and a solitary duck”) deliberately echoes the celebrated line of Wang Bo's 滕王閣序 (Preface to the Pavilion of Prince Teng); the allusion lends the passage a literary resonance. 長空 (cháng kōng) is the wide, open sky.
依稀黯淡野雲飛，玄鳥去，賓鴻至，嘹嘹嚦嚦聲宵碎。
依稀黯淡野云飞，玄鸟去，宾鸿至，嘹嘹呖呖声宵碎。
Faint and dim, the wild clouds fly; the swallows depart, the guest-geese arrive, and their clamouring, plaintive cries shiver the night.
玄鳥 (xuán niǎo), the “dark birds,” are swallows, which leave in autumn; 賓鴻, the “guest wild-geese,” arrive with the cold. 嘹嘹嚦嚦 is an onomatopoeia for their sharp, broken cries.
總評 Commentary
The passage joins two movements — a prose scene of departure and a long autumnal rhapsody — and the seam between them is instructive. Xuanzang's vow before the Buddha (“meeting a Buddha, bow to the Buddha; meeting a stūpa, sweep the stūpa”) is cast in ritual parallelism, its formulaic symmetry marking it as a solemn, quasi-liturgical act; the monks' tearful escort supplies the human warmth of leave-taking. Then, as the pilgrim turns westward, the narration opens into description: four units of dense seasonal imagery in the free, accumulating manner of the 賦, piling bare trees, shattered reeds, cold waters, and departing birds into a single mood of desolation. The set-piece does double work — rendering the outward landscape and, by its unrelieved bleakness, preparing the emotional ground for the calamity the next chapter will bring. The knowing echo of Wang Bo (落霞孤鶩) is characteristic of the novel's texture, which threads high-literary allusion through its popular narrative fabric.