鞍轡奉上 The Saddle Presented
至次早，行者起來道：「師父，那廟祝老兒昨晚許我們鞍轡，問他要，不要饒他。」說未了，只見那老兒果擎著一副鞍轡、襯屜、韁籠之類，凡馬上一切用的，無不全備，放在廊下道：「師父，鞍轡奉上。」三藏見了，歡喜領受。教行者拿了，背上馬看，可相稱否。行者走上前，一件件的取起看了，果然是些好物。有詩為證。詩曰：至次早，行者起来道：「师父，那庙祝老儿昨晚许我们鞍辔，问他要，不要饶他。」说未了，只见那老儿果擎著一副鞍辔、衬屉、缰笼之类，凡马上一切用的，无不全备，放在廊下道：「师父，鞍辔奉上。」三藏见了，欢喜领受。教行者拿了，背上马看，可相称否。行者走上前，一件件的取起看了，果然是些好物。有诗为证。诗曰：
逐句解 Line by line
Early next morning the Pilgrim rose and said: "Master, that old temple-keeper promised us a saddle and bridle last night. Go and ask him for it, and do not let him off."
廟祝老兒, "the old temple-keeper." 不要饒他, "do not let him off" — Wukong understands a promised gift as a debt to be collected. 那 is demonstrative, nà.
Before he had done speaking, they saw the old man come, indeed bearing up a saddle and bridle, saddle-cloths, rein and headstall and the like —
說未了 takes 了 as liǎo, "to finish" — not the aspect particle le. 擎著, "to hold up in both hands," takes durative 著 (zhe). 襯屜 are the cloths laid beneath the saddle; 韁籠, the rein and headstall. He was asked for two things and brings the whole equipage.
everything that is used upon a horse, with nothing wanting; and he set them down beneath the eaves, saying: "Master, I offer up the saddle and bridle."
無不全備, "nothing that is not complete"; 廊下, "beneath the gallery eaves." 奉上, "to present with both hands raised," is the verb of a subject before a throne — used here by a beggar to a passing monk.
Sanzang, seeing them, received them with delight, and bade the Pilgrim take them up and lay them on the horse's back, to see whether they matched.
領受, "to accept a gift." 可相稱否 — 相 read xiāng and 稱 read chèn, "whether they suit one another." The monk's first thought is of the fit; the old man's was of the giving.
The Pilgrim went forward and lifted them one by one to look, and they were fine things indeed.
一件件的, "piece by piece." Even Wukong, who had proposed to extort them, is silenced by their quality.
There is a poem to attest it. The poem says:
有詩為證, with 為 read wéi, "to serve as." This is the chapter's third and last regulated poem, and the only one that describes an object rather than a scene.
The carved saddle glints with colour, bound about with stars of silver; the precious stirrups fly with light, and the gold thread shines.
雕鞍, "a carved saddle"; 柬 here in the sense of binding or fastening; 寶鐙 (dèng), the stirrups. The poem is an inventory raised to praise, in the manner of the old rhapsodies upon arms and chariots.
Saddle-cloths, layer on layer of felted matting piled; a leading-rein of three strands, of purple silken cord.
襯屜, the under-cloths; 絨苫 (róng shān), a felted mat; 三股, "of three plaits." The catalogue is precise in the way a horseman's would be, and it is an old man's memory of what a good horse ought to have.
The bridle-head, stitched in leather, is bright with rounded flowers; the cloud-shaped flaps, traced in gold, show beasts at their dancing.
轡頭, the headstall; 皮劄, "stitched with leather"; 團花, the roundel-flower pattern. 雲扇 are the cloud-shaped leather flaps that hang at the saddle's side; 描金, "traced out in gold."
Ring and bit are beaten out of tempered iron; and from the two hanging straps, dipped in water, are knotted tassels of hair.
環嚼 — 嚼 read jiáo — is the ring and the bit, and the bit lies upon the very 橫骨, the crosswise mouth-bone, that the transformed dragon took between his teeth when he assented in his heart. 磨煉鐵, "iron ground and tempered"; 毛纓, "tassels of hair." The poem's last word is the rein's, and so is the chapter's.
The chapter's third regulated poem is a catalogue: saddle, stirrups, cloths, rein, headstall, flaps, ring, bit and tassels, each named with the exactness of a man who once owned a good horse and has not forgotten what one needs. Set against the two earlier poems — the gorge in its terrible clarity, the Buddha's preaching of the pāramitā — an inventory of harness may look like a descent. It is not. The novel has spent this chapter arguing that the road west is not travelled by force, and the harness is the instrument by which a devoured horse, become a dragon, become a horse again, is at last made to carry a man.
Observe where the poem chooses to end. Of all the equipage it might have closed upon — the gilt flaps, the purple rein, the silver-starred saddle — it ends on 環嚼, ring and bit, hammered out of tempered iron. The bit rests on the 橫骨, the crosswise bone of the mouth, which is precisely where the little dragon took it when Guanyin transformed him and he consented 心心, in his heart of hearts, having no other way left to speak. 鷹愁澗意馬收韁: the will-horse takes the rein. The poem has been describing the title all along.