復得龍馬 The Horse Restored
這行者才按落雲頭,揪著那龍馬的頂鬃,來見三藏道:「師父,馬有了也。」三藏一見,大喜道:「徒弟,這馬怎麼比前反肥盛了些?在何處尋著的?」行者道:「師父,你還做夢哩。卻才是金頭揭諦請了菩薩來,把那澗裡龍化作我們的白馬,其毛片相同,只是少了鞍轡。著老孫揪將來也。」三藏大驚道:「菩薩何在?待我去拜謝他。」行者道:「菩薩此時已到南海,不耐煩矣。」三藏就撮土焚香,望南禮拜。拜罷,起身即與行者收拾前進。行者喝退了山神、土地,吩咐了揭諦、功曹,卻請師父上馬。三藏道:「那無鞍轡的馬,怎生騎得?且待尋船渡過澗去,再作區處。」行者道:「這個師父好不知時務!這個曠野山中,船從何來?這匹馬,他在此久住,必知水勢,就騎著他做個船兒過去罷。」这行者才按落云头,揪着那龙马的顶鬃,来见三藏道:「师父,马有了也。」三藏一见,大喜道:「徒弟,这马怎么比前反肥盛了些?在何处寻着的?」行者道:「师父,你还做梦哩。却才是金头揭谛请了菩萨来,把那涧里龙化作我们的白马,其毛片相同,只是少了鞍辔。着老孙揪将来也。」三藏大惊道:「菩萨何在?待我去拜谢他。」行者道:「菩萨此时已到南海,不耐烦矣。」三藏就撮土焚香,望南礼拜。拜罢,起身即与行者收拾前进。行者喝退了山神、土地,吩咐了揭谛、功曹,却请师父上马。三藏道:「那无鞍辔的马,怎生骑得?且待寻船渡过涧去,再作区处。」行者道:「这个师父好不知时务!这个旷野山中,船从何来?这匹马,他在此久住,必知水势,就骑着他做个船儿过去罢。」
逐句解 Line by line
The Pilgrim then brought down his cloud-head, took the dragon-horse by the forelock, and came before Sanzang, saying: "Master, the horse is here."
揪著 takes the unstressed zhe; 頂鬃 is the mane at the crown of the head. He does not lead the horse by a rein, because there is no rein — but the verb chosen is 揪, to haul by the hair, which is how he has handled every single thing in this chapter, gods included.
One look, and Sanzang cried out for joy: "Disciple! How comes this horse to be even sleeker than before?
肥盛 is well-fleshed, in fine condition. A transfigured prince of the Western Sea is standing in front of him, and the monk's first observation is that the coat looks better than it used to.
Where did you find it?"
尋著的 is "found it". 尋著 is one of the 著 that mark a thing achieved, so it takes zháo — set against the unstressed zhe of 揪著 in the sentence immediately before. The question is entirely reasonable, and it gets laughed at.
Said the Pilgrim: "Master, you are still dreaming.
還做夢哩 takes 還 as hái, "still". The gibe stands for the master's whole position in this chapter: he has slept through his own rescue.
It was the Gold-Headed Guardian who fetched the Bodhisattva just now, and she has turned the dragon of the gorge into our white horse,
卻才 is "just now, a moment ago"; 化作 is to transform into. Wukong's account is scrupulously accurate and gives himself no credit whatever, which is not at all his usual habit — a small sign that the lesson at the gorge went in.
with the same hair and markings — only the saddle and bridle are lacking.
毛片相同 takes 相 as xiāng, "the same as each other". The missing saddle and bridle are not an oversight. What has been restored is a mount, not its harness, and getting hold of the harness will occupy the rest of the chapter.
She had old Sun lead him hither."
著 is causative here, zhuó — "she had old Sun —"; and in 揪將來 the 將 is the hinge before the direction word. Even when reporting a Bodhisattva's instructions he cannot resist the verb 揪, to drag by the scruff.
Sanzang was greatly astonished, and said: "Where is the Bodhisattva?
大驚 is greatly astonished. Only now does it dawn on him that a Bodhisattva has been in the air directly above his head.
Let me go and bow my thanks to her."
拜謝 is to bow in thanks. The impulse is his best quality, and it is characteristically about ten minutes too late.
Said the Pilgrim: "By this time the Bodhisattva has reached the Southern Sea. She will not be troubled with it."
不耐煩矣 is "she will not be bothered with it". The line is wonderfully rude, and Wukong is once again perfectly correct. She has gone.
Sanzang thereupon heaped up a little earth for an incense-burner, kindled incense, and bowed toward the south.
撮土焚香, "heap up earth and burn incense", is the poor man's altar: no shrine, no vessel, so you scrape a little soil into a mound and stand the sticks in it. Travellers and soldiers did this for centuries. It is Sanzang's one act of practical religion in the whole chapter, and the novel lets him have it without a trace of irony.
His reverence done, he rose, and with the Pilgrim set about going forward.
收拾前進 is to gather up and go on. The interval is over and the road resumes.
The Pilgrim dismissed the Mountain God and the Local God with a shout, gave his charge to the Guardian and the Sentinel, and then invited his master to mount.
喝退 is to dismiss with a shout, 喝 read hè — the shouting sense, not the hē of drinking. He beat them, interrogated them, used them, and now he sends them away. The celestial civil service has served its turn.
Said Sanzang: "How am I to ride a horse that has neither saddle nor bridle?
怎生騎得 is "however is one to ride it", with 得 read dé. And 怎生 is back, the tic that means Sanzang has no idea what to do. The objection is not silly: a horse with no harness is not yet a mount.
Let us wait and find a boat to ferry us over the gorge, and then consider what to do."
區處 is to make arrangements, to settle a matter. His instinct is what it always is — wait, find a boat, put it off.
Said the Pilgrim: "What a master this is, who knows nothing of the times!
好不知時務 is "how ignorant of what the moment calls for". 知時務 is normally faint praise for a man who bends to circumstance; Wukong turns it inside out and uses it as an insult.
In this wild waste of hills, where should a boat come from?
曠野山中 is "in wild and empty hills". The retort cannot be answered, and the impatience in it is affectionate.
This horse has lived here long and must know the lie of the water. Just ride him, and let him serve for a boat to carry you across."
水勢 is the set and lie of the water; 騎著 takes the unstressed zhe. And here is the chapter's quietest reversal, thrown away as a practical suggestion: the dragon that swallowed the horse in this water is now the horse, and will carry the master across the water. Wukong proposes it purely because it will save time.
The reunion is played for comedy at the master's expense. Sanzang, who has spent the chapter weeping, doubting and being frightened, notices first that the horse looks unusually well fed; when he asks where it was found, Wukong tells him he is still dreaming. In a sense he is. A Bodhisattva has descended, quarrelled at length, transformed a condemned dragon prince and gone home again, all in the air directly above his head, and the monk knew nothing about any of it — 不經由三藏, as the narrative flatly noted when the Guardian first flew past him.
His response is to scrape a little earth into a mound, stand incense in it and bow south toward a Bodhisattva who left some minutes ago. It is absurd and it is also rather moving, and the novel does not mock it. Sanzang cannot fight, cannot see through a disguise and cannot follow an argument at speed, but he never once fails to say thank you.
The passage then ends exactly where the chapter's allegory needs it to. The horse has been restored; the harness has not. Sanzang's objection — how does one ride a horse with neither saddle nor bridle? — is sharper than he knows: the will-horse has been recovered, but it has not yet been reined. His instinct is to wait for a boat. Wukong's is to ride, and Wukong is right, for a reason he states as though it were mere convenience. The creature that swallowed the horse in these waters is now the horse, knows the water, and will carry the man across the gorge that swallowed him. The obstacle has become the means of passage.