第十六回 · 撞頭而死 The Abbot Dashes Out His Brains — Journey to the West

原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition 含詞賦 With rhapsody

撞頭而死 The Abbot Dashes Out His Brains

原yuán來lái這zhè老lǎo和hé尚shàng尋xún不bú見jiàn袈jiā裟shā，又yòu燒shāo了le本běn寺sì的de房fáng屋wū，正zhèng在zài萬wàn分fēn煩fán惱nǎo焦jiāo燥zào之zhī處chù，一yì聞wén此cǐ言yán，怎zěn敢gǎn答dá應yìng。因yīn尋xún思sī無wú計jì，進jìn退tuì無wú方fāng，拽zhuài開kāi步bù，躬gōng著zhe腰yāo，往wǎng那nà牆qiáng上shàng著zhuó實shí撞zhuàng了le一yì頭tóu，可kě憐lián只zhǐ撞zhuàng得de腦nǎo破pò血xuè流liú魂hún魄pò散sàn，咽yān喉hóu氣qì斷duàn染rǎn紅hóng沙shā。有yǒu詩shī為wéi證zhèng。詩shī曰yuē：原yuán来lái这zhè老lǎo和hé尚shàng寻xún不bú见jiàn袈jiā裟shā，又yòu烧shāo了le本běn寺sì的de房fáng屋wū，正zhèng在zài万wàn分fēn烦fán恼nǎo焦jiāo燥zào之zhī处chù，一yì闻wén此cǐ言yán，怎zěn敢gǎn答dá应yìng。因yīn寻xún思sī无wú计jì，进jìn退tuì无wú方fāng，拽zhuài开kāi步bù，躬gōng著zhe腰yāo，往wǎng那nà墙qiáng上shàng著zhuó实shí撞zhuàng了le一yì头tóu，可kě怜lián只zhǐ撞zhuàng得de脑nǎo破pò血xuè流liú魂hún魄pò散sàn，咽yān喉hóu气qì断duàn染rǎn红hóng沙shā。有yǒu诗shī为wéi证zhèng。诗shī曰yuē：

堪kān嘆tàn老lǎo衲nà性xìng愚yú蒙méng，枉wǎng作zuò人rén間jiān一yí壽shòu翁wēng。堪kān叹tàn老lǎo衲nà性xìng愚yú蒙méng，枉wǎng作zuò人rén间jiān一yí寿shòu翁wēng。

欲yù得dé袈jiā裟shā傳chuán遠yuǎn世shì，豈qǐ知zhī佛fó寶bǎo不bù凡fán同tóng。欲yù得dé袈jiā裟shā传chuán远yuǎn世shì，岂qǐ知zhī佛fó宝bǎo不bù凡fán同tóng。

但dàn將jiāng容róng易yì為wéi長cháng久jiǔ，定dìng是shì蕭xiāo條tiáo取qǔ敗bài功gōng。但dàn将jiāng容róng易yì为wéi长cháng久jiǔ，定dìng是shì萧xiāo条tiáo取qǔ败bài功gōng。

廣guǎng智zhì廣guǎng謀móu成chéng甚shén用yòng？損sǔn人rén利lì己jǐ一yì場chǎng空kōng。广guǎng智zhì广guǎng谋móu成chéng甚shén用yòng？损sǔn人rén利lì己jǐ一yì场chǎng空kōng。

逐句解 Line by line

原yuán來lái這zhè老lǎo和hé尚shàng尋xún不bú見jiàn袈jiā裟shā，又yòu燒shāo了le本běn寺sì的de房fáng屋wū，原yuán来lái这zhè老lǎo和hé尚shàng寻xún不bú见jiàn袈jiā裟shā，又yòu烧shāo了le本běn寺sì的de房fáng屋wū，

Now, the old monk could not find the cassock, and he had burned down the buildings of his own monastery besides;

原來 ("it turns out") shifts the camera behind the door. He has had the cassock all night and cannot find it.

正zhèng在zài萬wàn分fēn煩fán惱nǎo焦jiāo燥zào之zhī處chù，一yì聞wén此cǐ言yán，怎zěn敢gǎn答dá應yìng。正zhèng在zài万wàn分fēn烦fán恼nǎo焦jiāo燥zào之zhī处chù，一yì闻wén此cǐ言yán，怎zěn敢gǎn答dá应yìng。

and being sunk in ten-thousandfold vexation and scorching anguish, how should he dare to answer when he heard those words?

焦燥, scorched and parched — a word for anguish, and, this morning, a description. 答應 takes yìng. The monks outside are shouting for a thing he no longer has, and he cannot say so.

因yīn尋xún思sī無wú計jì，進jìn退tuì無wú方fāng，拽zhuài開kāi步bù，躬gōng著zhe腰yāo，往wǎng那nà牆qiáng上shàng著zhuó實shí撞zhuàng了le一yì頭tóu，因yīn寻xún思sī无wú计jì，进jìn退tuì无wú方fāng，拽zhuài开kāi步bù，躬gōng著zhe腰yāo，往wǎng那nà墙qiáng上shàng著zhuó实shí撞zhuàng了le一yì头tóu，

Turning it over and finding no plan, no way forward and no way back, he stretched out his stride, bent his back, and dashed his head against the wall with all his strength.

拽開步 ("drew out his stride"): 拽 is zhuài. In 躬著腰 the particle is zhe, a state maintained; but 著實 is the adverb zhuóshí, "in good earnest, with full force." He bends his back and runs at the wall — the last two hundred and seventy years travelling four paces.

可kě憐lián只zhǐ撞zhuàng得de腦nǎo破pò血xuè流liú魂hún魄pò散sàn，咽yān喉hóu氣qì斷duàn染rǎn紅hóng沙shā。有yǒu詩shī為wéi證zhèng。詩shī曰yuē：可kě怜lián只zhǐ撞zhuàng得de脑nǎo破pò血xuè流liú魂hún魄pò散sàn，咽yān喉hóu气qì断duàn染rǎn红hóng沙shā。有yǒu诗shī为wéi证zhèng。诗shī曰yuē：

Pitiable! He dashed it until the skull was broken, the blood ran, the souls were scattered, the breath was cut off in his throat, and the red sand was stained. There is a poem to prove it. The poem says:

撞得 takes the neutral de. 腦破血流魂魄散，咽喉氣斷染紅沙 — the line falls into a rhymed parallel of its own, though it stands in prose. 有詩為證 ("there is a poem to prove it"): 為 is wéi. The storyteller's tag, and the epitaph.

Pity the old monk, of a nature foolish and benighted, who lived to be an old man of this world for nothing at all.

老衲 (lǎonà), "old patched-robe," the humble self-designation of a monk — and the poem uses it of him, at his death, when the patched robe is the one thing he never wore. 愚蒙, foolish and unenlightened. 枉作, "in vain did he become."

He wished to get a cassock and hand it down through distant ages, not knowing that a Buddha's treasure is not as common things are.

欲得 takes dé. 傳遠世 answers 傳家之寶 exactly: he wished to hand it down through the ages. 佛寶不凡同 — a Buddha-treasure is not of the common sort. That is the whole of what he failed to know.

He took a thing easily come by and made of it his long endurance; and so it was certain that desolation would be all his winning.

但將容易為長久: he took what came easily and made it his permanence (將 is the coverb jiāng; 為 is wéi; 長久 takes cháng). The graph 長久 is the one he used himself, weeping, when he asked 怎生留得長遠.

Broad Wisdom, Broad Scheming — what were they good for? Injure another to profit yourself, and it comes at last to nothing.

成甚用, "what use did it serve" (甚 is shén). The poem names the two disciples, and their dharma-names — Broad Wisdom, Broad Scheming — become the indictment. 損人利己一場空: "harm others to profit yourself, and it comes to one empty scene." 一場空 is the plainest phrase in the poem and the coldest — the whole night, the whole two hundred and seventy years, an emptiness.

總評 Commentary

He dies because he cannot answer a question. The monks are shouting through the door for the cassock; the cassock is gone; and there is no sentence in the world that he can say. 進退無方 — no way forward, no way back. So he bends his back, takes four running paces, and puts his skull into the wall. Wú Chéng'ēn gives the act one adverb, 著實, "in good earnest," and it is the most effective word in the chapter: the old man who could not bring himself to look at a robe by lamplight commits himself entirely, once, to a wall.

The poem that follows is unusually explicit for this novel, and its severity is doctrinal rather than moral. The abbot's sin is not greed, exactly — it is a category error. 豈知佛寶不凡同: he did not know that a Buddha-treasure is not the same kind of thing as an ordinary treasure. He tried to convert a robe of the Dharma into an heirloom, 但將容易為長久, to take a thing easily obtained and make it his permanence. Everything he did followed correctly from that mistake. And the last line widens to take in the whole house: 損人利己一場空, harm others to profit yourself and it comes to one empty scene. Two disciples were named Broad Wisdom and Broad Scheming, and the poem asks what either was for.