日暮投林 Sunset on the Road
師徒兩個走著路，說著話，不覺得太陽西墜。但見：师徒两个走着路，说着话，不觉得太阳西坠。但见：
逐句解 Line by line
Master and disciple went along the road, talking as they walked, and did not notice the sun sinking in the west. And this was the sight:
A short bridge of prose, and then the light changes. 走著路，說著話 uses the ongoing-action 著 (zhe) twice over, which is why the sunset catches them unawares; 不覺得, 'did not notice', takes 得 as de. Then 但見, 'and this was the sight' — the standing cue that a descriptive lyric is about to take over.
Flickering, the slanting after-glow throws back its light; to the far ends of sky and sea the clouds go home.
The lyric opens on the light itself: 斜暉, the slanting rays, and 返照, the glow thrown back after the sun has gone. Then the clouds go home to the horizon, and the whole sky is put away for the night.
On a thousand hills the birds cry thick and fast, seeking their roosts, flocking to the woods in ranks.
A thousand hills noisy with birds coming in to roost. It is the standard picture of dusk in Chinese verse, and the lines are cut short and brisk to make the racket audible.
The wild beasts go in pairs and pairs, home to their dens in troops and troops.
The beasts go home too. The doubled words — 雙雙對對, pair upon pair, and 族族群群, troop upon troop — give the line a swaying, sung movement, which is exactly what the 詞 form is for: these were originally lyrics written to fit tunes.
A single hook of new moon breaks the yellow dusk;
The eye lifts from the ground to the sky. 一鉤新月, one hook of new moon, cutting into the yellow dusk.
ten thousand points of bright stars ring the night with haloed light.
And it closes on the stars: 萬點明星, ten thousand bright points, each with its 光暈, its ring of haze. Night has arrived, and so has the next episode.
A short lyric marks nightfall and the turn into the chapter's last long episode. After all the talk of tigers and cudgels the narrative simply stops for an evening picture: birds to their roosts, beasts to their dens, a new moon and the stars — the ordinary, orderly end of a day, set in the swaying matched lines of the 詞, the lyric written to a tune.
Interludes like this are among the real pleasures of the novel's texture, and they also do structural work without making a fuss about it. The dusk the verse describes is what sends master and disciple looking for a roof, which leads straight to the farmhouse and the old man's fright in the passages that follow.