Canonical Classics ← 第二十八回
第二十八回
huāguǒshānqúnyāo
hēisōnglínsānzàngféng

At Flower-Fruit Mountain the Host of Fiends Bands Together in Fellowship · In the Black Pine Forest Tripitaka Falls in with a Demon

望海東洋
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

望海東洋 The Eastern Ocean

quèshuōshèngsuībèitángsēngzhúgǎnrányóuniàngǎntànzǎowàngjiàndōngyánghǎidào:「zǒuzhěbǎinián!」zhǐjiànhǎishuǐquèshuōshèngsuībèitángsēngzhúgǎnrányóuniàngǎntànzǎowàngjiàndōngyánghǎidào:「zǒuzhěbǎinián!」zhǐjiànhǎishuǐ

yāndàngdànglàngyōuyōuyāndàngdànglàngyōuyōu
yāndàngdàngjiētiānlàngyōuyōutōngmàiyāndàngdàngjiētiānlàngyōuyōutōngmài
cháoláixiōngyǒngshuǐjìnwānhuáncháoláixiōngyǒngshuǐjìnwānhuán
cháoláixiōngyǒngyóuhǒusānchūncháoláixiōngyǒngyóuhǒusānchūn
shuǐjìnwānhuánquèkuángfēngchuījiǔxiàshuǐjìnwānhuánquèkuángfēngchuījiǔxià
chénglónglǎowǎngláidìngzhòuméixíngchénglónglǎowǎngláidìngzhòuméixíng
kuàxiāntóngfǎnguǒrányōuguòkuàxiāntóngfǎnguǒrányōuguò
jìnàncūnshèbàngshuǐshǎozhōujìnàncūnshèbàngshuǐshǎozhōu
làngjuǎnqiānniánxuěfēngshēngliùyuèqiūlàngjuǎnqiānniánxuěfēngshēngliùyuèqiū
qínpíngchūméishāniǎorènchénqínpíngchūméishāniǎorènchén
yǎnqiándiàoěrpànzhǐwénōuyǎnqiándiàoěrpànzhǐwénōu
hǎiyóutiānbiānguòyànchóuhǎiyóutiānbiānguòyànchóu

逐句解 Line by line

quèshuōshèngsuībèitángsēngzhúgǎnrányóuniàngǎntànzǎowàngjiàndōngyánghǎidào:「zǒuzhěbǎinián!」zhǐjiànhǎishuǐ quèshuōshèngsuībèitángsēngzhúgǎnrányóuniàngǎntànzǎowàngjiàndōngyánghǎidào:「zǒuzhěbǎinián!」zhǐjiànhǎishuǐ

Now although the Great Sage had been driven off by the Tang Monk, he could not put an end to his longing and his sighs. Before long the great Eastern Ocean rose into view, and he said, “It has been five hundred years since last I traveled this road!” And there before him lay the sea-water:

The Great Sage's exile-journey home opens the chapter. 五百年 recalls his imprisonment beneath Five-Phases Mountain; the road east is the road back to Flower-Fruit Mountain. 那 both deictic (那大聖 / 那海水).

yāndàngdànglàngyōuyōu yāndàngdànglàngyōuyōu

Misted waves rolling boundless, mighty billows drifting long.

Opening the sea-rhapsody in balanced four-graph cola.

yāndàngdàngjiētiānlàngyōuyōutōngmài yāndàngdàngjiētiānlàngyōuyōutōngmài

The misted waves, rolling boundless, meet the River of Heaven; the mighty billows, drifting long, thread the veins of the earth.

天河 the Milky Way / River of Heaven; 地脈 the earth's arterial channels of qi.

cháoláixiōngyǒngshuǐjìnwānhuán cháoláixiōngyǒngshuǐjìnwānhuán

The tide comes surging and turbulent; the flood-waters soak the curving bay.

Introduces the tide-and-flood pair the next two units expand.

cháoláixiōngyǒngyóuhǒusānchūn cháoláixiōngyǒngyóuhǒusānchūn

The tide comes surging, like a thunderclap roaring through the three months of spring;

三春 the three months of springtime.

shuǐjìnwānhuánquèkuángfēngchuījiǔxià shuǐjìnwānhuánquèkuángfēngchuījiǔxià

the flood soaks the winding bay, like a wild gale blowing through the nine tens of summer.

九夏 the ninety days of summer; parallels 三春.

chénglónglǎowǎngláidìngzhòuméixíng chénglónglǎowǎngláidìngzhòuméixíng

The blessed elders who ride the dragon must cross it always with knitted brows;

乘 chéng (ride) — riders of dragon and crane are Daoist transcendents who cross the sea with dread.

kuàxiāntóngfǎnguǒrányōuguò kuàxiāntóngfǎnguǒrányōuguò

the immortal lads astride the crane pass over it, back and forth, in unfeigned dread.

Parallels the dragon-riders above; both are Daoist transcendents who dread the crossing.

jìnàncūnshèbàngshuǐshǎozhōu jìnàncūnshèbàngshuǐshǎozhōu

Near the shore stands no village or shrine; along the water float but few fishing boats.

少 shǎo (few).

làngjuǎnqiānniánxuěfēngshēngliùyuèqiū làngjuǎnqiānniánxuěfēngshēngliùyuèqiū

The waves roll up snow of a thousand years; the wind breeds autumn in the sixth month.

千年雪/六月秋: hyperbole of cold and untimely autumn.

qínpíngchūméishāniǎorènchén qínpíngchūméishāniǎorènchén

Wild fowl come and go as they will; sand-birds sink and rise as they please.

憑…任… “as they please / at will”: the untended freedom of a deserted sea.

yǎnqiándiàoěrpànzhǐwénōu yǎnqiándiàoěrpànzhǐwénōu

Before the eye no angler appears; at the ear only the gulls are heard.

The absence of men (no angler) answered by the presence of gulls.

hǎiyóutiānbiānguòyànchóu hǎiyóutiānbiānguòyànchóu

In the depths the roaming fish are glad; at the sky's rim the passing geese are forlorn.

The rhapsody closes on a contrast of joy and sorrow that mirrors Wukong's own divided heart.


總評 Commentary

The chapter opens not with action but with a backward look. Driven from the pilgrimage, Wukong crosses the Eastern Ocean toward the one place that is still his own, and the narrator lingers on the water rather than the traveler — a set-piece sea-rhapsody that suspends the story at the threshold of home. The five hundred years he names are the years of his punishment; the road east is the road of return, and the sea he must recross is the same barrier that once divided his monkey-kingdom from the world.

The rhapsody's imagery is double-edged. Its grandeur — waves that touch the Milky Way, billows that thread the earth's veins — belongs to the old descriptions of Flower-Fruit Mountain in its glory, yet every figure here carries unease: thunder and gale, a thousand-year snow, autumn breeding in high summer. Even the transcendents who ride dragon and crane cross this water with knitted brows. The closing couplet, glad fish below and grieving geese above, sets the emotional key for everything that follows: a homecoming shadowed by dread.