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第二十三回
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Tripitaka Does Not Forget His Origin · The Four Saints Test the Meditative Heart

在家之樂
模式 Mode Read Study
拼音 Pinyin Off
字體 Script
原文 Original text 繁體 Traditional Reader's edition 含詞賦 With rhapsody

在家之樂 A Householder's Joys

rénxiàodào:「liánliánchūjiārényǒuhǎochù?」sānzàngdào:「zàijiārénquèyǒuhǎochù?」réndào:「zhǎnglǎoqǐngzuòděngzàijiārénhǎochùshuōtīngzěnjiàndeyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuērénxiàodào:「liánliánchūjiārényǒuhǎochù?」sānzàngdào:「zàijiārénquèyǒuhǎochù?」réndào:「zhǎnglǎoqǐngzuòděngzàijiārénhǎochùshuōtīngzěnjiàndeyǒushīwéizhèngshīyuē

chūncáifāngshèngzhuóxīnluóxiàhuànqīngshāshǎngchūncáifāngshèngzhuóxīnluóxiàhuànqīngshāshǎng绿
qiūyǒuxīnchúxiāngnuòjiǔdōngláinuǎnzuìyántuóqiūyǒuxīnchúxiāngnuòjiǔdōngláinuǎnzuìyántuó
shíshòuyòngbānbānyǒujiézhēnxiūjiànjiànduōshíshòuyòngbānbānyǒujiézhēnxiūjiànjiànduō
chènjǐnlínghuāzhúqiángxíngjiǎotuó。」chènjǐnlínghuāzhúqiángxíngjiǎotuó。」

逐句解 Line by line

rénxiàodào:「liánlián rénxiàodào:「liánlián

The woman said with a laugh, “A pity, a pity.”

那婦人 . 可憐 “what a shame,” the widow's mock-commiseration at the monks' austerity — the opening of a fresh line of attack.

chūjiārényǒuhǎochù?」 chūjiārényǒuhǎochù?」

“What good is there in leaving the household life?”

出家人有何好處 “what advantage has the monk?” The widow shifts from offering wealth to disparaging the religious life itself.

sānzàngdào:「zàijiārénquèyǒuhǎochù?」 sānzàngdào:「zàijiārénquèyǒuhǎochù?」

Tripitaka said, “Lady bodhisattva — and you who remain in the household, what good is there in that?”

三藏 zàng. 女菩薩 “lady bodhisattva,” a courteous address. 在家人 “one who remains in the household (a layperson)” — the term set against 出家人. Tripitaka at last answers, turning the question back.

réndào:「zhǎnglǎoqǐngzuòděngzàijiārénhǎochùshuōtīng réndào:「zhǎnglǎoqǐngzuòděngzàijiārénhǎochùshuōtīng

The woman said, “Elder, pray be seated, and let me tell you the good of the householder's life.”

那婦人 ; 長老 zhǎng lǎo. 說與你聽 “to tell it for you to hear” — the lead-in to her recited poem. The quotation opened here stays open through the verse that follows.

zěnjiànde zěnjiànde

“How is this to be shown?”

怎見得 “how can it be seen (proved)?” — structural de; the storyteller's rhetorical hinge before a citation of verse.

yǒushīwéizhèng yǒushīwéizhèng

“There is a poem to prove it.”

有詩為證 “there is a poem as proof,” the ubiquitous formula introducing an embedded verse; here reads wéi (“to serve as”). The poem it ushers in is spoken by the widow, and so runs on within her quotation.

shīyuē shīyuē

The poem says:

詩曰 “the poem says” — the immediate tag before the verse. It closes the prose lead-in; the four couplets that follow carry the verse, and the widow's closing 」 rides the final line.

chūncáifāngshèngzhuóxīnluóxiàhuànqīngshāshǎng chūncáifāngshèngzhuóxīnluóxiàhuànqīngshāshǎng绿

In spring she cuts fāngshèng ornaments and dons fresh gauze-silk; / in summer changes to light silk and delights in the green lotus;

方勝 (fāngshèng) a lozenge-shaped auspicious ornament of paired diamonds; 新羅 here a fine gauze-silk. 著新羅 “wear the new silk,” the lexical zhuó (“to wear”). 綠荷 “green lotus.” The couplet begins the round of the seasons' pleasures.

qiūyǒuxīnchúxiāngnuòjiǔdōngláinuǎnzuìyántuó qiūyǒuxīnchúxiāngnuòjiǔdōngláinuǎnzuìyántuó

in autumn there is new-brewed fragrant glutinous wine; / and when winter comes, in a warm chamber the flushed face grows drunk.

新蒭 “freshly-brewed (ale),” chú (here a variant for new liquor). 糯酒 “glutinous-rice wine.” 暖閣 “a heated inner room”; 醉顏酡 “the wine-flushed countenance.”

shíshòuyòngbānbānyǒujiézhēnxiūjiànjiànduō shíshòuyòngbānbānyǒujiézhēnxiūjiànjiànduō

In the four seasons every kind of enjoyment is at hand; / at the eight festivals each rare delicacy abounds.

四時受用 “enjoyments through the four seasons”; 般般有 “every sort is to be had,” 般 bān. 八節 the eight seasonal nodes of the year; 珍饈 “rare viands.”

chènjǐnlínghuāzhúqiángxíngjiǎotuó。」 chènjǐnlínghuāzhúqiángxíngjiǎotuó。」

Brocade-lined and damask-spread, on the night of the flowered candles — / far better than trudging on foot to bow before Amitābha.

襯錦鋪綾 “lined with brocade, spread with damask”; here the verb (“to spread”), against the noun . 花燭夜 “the night of the wedding candles.” 行腳 “to travel on foot” as a mendicant, xíng; 禮彌陀 “to worship Amitābha.” The couplet's sly turn sets a wedding-night against a pilgrimage.


總評 Commentary

Rebuffed in her offer of wealth, the widow changes tack and mounts a positive case for the lay life, capping it — as the vernacular novel loves to do — with a recited poem. Tripitaka's counter-question (“and what good is there in remaining in the household?”) gives her the opening, and she answers in eight regulated lines that run the calendar of sensual comfort.

The poem is a small anthology of the year's pleasures: spring silks and summer gauze, autumn wine and the winter's warm chamber, the delicacies of every festival — all gathered toward the pointed last couplet, where the brocade bed of a wedding-night is weighed against the hard road of the pilgrim who walks to worship the Buddha. The argument is hedonism made lyrical.

Structurally the verse is spoken, not narrated: introduced within the widow's own quotation by the formula 有詩為證。詩曰, it runs on inside her speech, and the closing quotation-mark falls only on the poem's final line. The debate it opens — the householder's joys against the monk's discipline — is exactly the ground on which Tripitaka will answer in kind, with a renunciant's poem of his own.