誤逢金光 The Golden Light
長老獨坐林中，十分悶倦，只得強打精神，跳將起來，把行李攢在一處，將馬拴在樹上。取下戴的斗笠，插定了錫杖，整一整緇衣，徐步幽林，權為散悶。那長老看遍了野草山花，聽不得歸巢鳥噪。原來那林子內都是些草深路小的去處，只因他情思紊亂，卻走錯了。他一來也是要散散悶，二來也是要尋八戒、沙僧。不期他兩個走的是直西路，長老轉了一會，卻走向南邊去了。出得松林，忽擡頭，見那壁廂金光閃爍，彩氣騰騰。仔細看處，原來是一座寶塔，金頂放光。這是那西落的日色，映著那金頂放亮。他道：「我弟子卻沒緣法哩。自離東土，發願逢廟燒香，見佛拜佛，遇塔掃塔。那放光的不是一座黃金寶塔？怎麼就不曾走那條路？塔下必有寺院，院內必有僧家，且等我走走。這行李、白馬，料此處無人行走，卻也無事。那裡若有方便處，待徒弟們來，一同借歇。」长老独坐林中，十分闷倦，只得强打精神，跳将起来，把行李攒在一处，将马拴在树上。取下戴的斗笠，插定了锡杖，整一整缁衣，徐步幽林，权为散闷。那长老看遍了野草山花，听不得归巢鸟噪。原来那林子内都是些草深路小的去处，只因他情思紊乱，却走错了。他一来也是要散散闷，二来也是要寻八戒、沙僧。不期他两个走的是直西路，长老转了一会，却走向南边去了。出得松林，忽抬头，见那壁厢金光闪烁，彩气腾腾。仔细看处，原来是一座宝塔，金顶放光。这是那西落的日色，映着那金顶放亮。他道：「我弟子却没缘法哩。自离东土，发愿逢庙烧香，见佛拜佛，遇塔扫塔。那放光的不是一座黄金宝塔？怎么就不曾走那条路？塔下必有寺院，院内必有僧家，且等我走走。这行李、白马，料此处无人行走，却也无事。那里若有方便处，待徒弟们来，一同借歇。」
逐句解 Line by line
The elder sat alone in the woods, thoroughly gloomy and worn, and could only force up his spirits, spring to his feet, gather the baggage into one place, and tie the horse to a tree.
Left alone, he tidies. Baggage into one pile, horse tied to a tree — the small housekeeping of a man with nothing to do and a bad feeling. 強打精神 takes 強 as qiǎng, to force, not qiáng, strong: forcing his spirits up rather than being strong. 只得 takes dé, had no choice but; 跳將 and 將馬 both take jiāng; 林中 takes zhōng.
He took off the bamboo hat he wore, planted his monk's staff upright, straightened his dark robe, and strolled slowly through the deep wood, thinking to dispel his gloom.
斗笠 takes 斗 as dǒu, the wide woven rain-hat every traveller in this book wears. 緇衣 is the dark robe of a monk — the colour is the uniform. 權為 takes wéi, as a means to; 散悶 takes sàn, to scatter — he is walking to scatter his gloom, and the metaphor is the same one English uses when it dispels one.
The elder looked his fill on the wild grasses and mountain flowers, and could not bear the clamor of birds returning to roost. Now the wood was all deep grass and narrow paths, and because his thoughts were tangled and troubled, he lost his way.
The reason he gets lost is given plainly and it is not the terrain: his thoughts were tangled. He wanders off the path because he is upset about the disciple he sent away. 那長老 and 那林子 both take nà; 聽不得 takes the unstressed de; 林子 ends in an unstressed zi; 都是 takes dōu.
For one thing he meant to ease his gloom; for another he hoped to find Bajie and Sha Monk. But the two of them had gone the road due west, while the elder, wandering a while, drifted off toward the south.
The single fatal detail. The disciples went due west, which is the correct road; the master drifts south. Four words of geography, and the chapter turns on them. 散散悶 takes sàn; 長老 takes zhǎng.
Coming out of the pines, he suddenly raised his head and saw, off in that quarter, a golden light flashing and glittering, colored vapors rising and swirling. Looking closely, he found it was a jeweled pagoda, its gilded top ablaze with light.
那壁廂 is over in that quarter, over that way — 那 is nà, pointing. 寶塔 is a jewelled pagoda, and the gilt on its roof is about to do more damage than any weapon in the chapter. 出得 takes dé; 仔細 takes zǐ.
It was the light of the westering sun, shining upon that gilded top and making it blaze. He said, “I, your disciple, have been out of luck indeed. Ever since I left the Eastern Land, I vowed that at every temple I would burn incense, before every Buddha bow, and at every pagoda sweep.
The narrator tells us before Tripitaka works it out: the golden light is the setting sun on a gilded roof. Nothing holy about it. And then the vow — burn incense at every temple, bow before every Buddha, sweep at every pagoda — 逢廟燒香, 見佛拜佛, 遇塔掃塔, three matched phrases that are the whole of his practice on the road. It is his piety, and it is the lever the demon will use to move him. 見佛拜佛 takes 佛 as fó. 那 is nà, twice; 映著 ends in the unstressed zhe; 弟子 takes zǐ.
Is that shining thing not a pagoda of yellow gold? How is it I never took that road? Below a pagoda there must be a temple, and within it monks. Let me go and see. As for this baggage and the white horse — no one travels this place, so they'll come to no harm. If there's a convenient spot up there, I'll wait for the disciples, and we can all lodge together.”
Watch him reason his way into the cave. Below a pagoda there is a temple; in a temple there are monks; nobody travels here so the baggage is safe; I will wait for the disciples there. Every step is sound and every step is wrong. All three 那 in this one segment: 那 twice as nà, pointing at the shining thing and that road, then 那裡 as nǎ, if there. 行李 and 行走 both take xíng.
The trap is sprung by the master's own virtue. It is precisely his vow — sweep at every pagoda, bow before every Buddha — that pulls him toward the golden light, and the narrator takes care to tell us in advance that the light is nothing holy. It is the setting sun on a gilded roof. What looks like an occasion for merit is the mouth of a demon's cave, and the pilgrim's piety is the exact lever used to move him.
The geography is quietly fatal. The disciples took the road due west, which is the right one; the master, his thoughts tangled, drifts south. Every detail that ought to reassure him — nobody travels here, the baggage is safe, there must be monks below a pagoda — is a misreading, and the reader watches him think his way, one devout step at a time, straight toward the danger he warned his disciples about an hour before.