慚愧自陳 Shame and Confession
公主聞此正言,半晌家耳紅面赤,慚愧無地。忽失口道:「長老之言最善。我豈不思念父母?只因這妖精將我攝騙在此,他的法令又謹,我的步履又難,路遠山遙,無人可傳音信。欲要自盡,又恐父母疑我逃走,事終不明。故沒奈何,苟延殘喘,誠為天地間一大罪人也。」說罷,淚如泉湧。公主闻此正言,半晌家耳红面赤,惭愧无地。忽失口道:「长老之言最善。我岂不思念父母?只因这妖精将我摄骗在此,他的法令又谨,我的步履又难,路远山遥,无人可传音信。欲要自尽,又恐父母疑我逃走,事终不明。故没奈何,苟延残喘,诚为天地间一大罪人也。」说罢,泪如泉涌。
逐句解 Line by line
The princess, hearing this upright speech, for a long moment flushed red at the ears and cheeks, and was ashamed past all measure.
正言 (zhèng yán), upright, admonishing words. 半晌 (bàn shǎng), a good while, a long moment. 慚愧無地 (cánkuì wú dì), ashamed with nowhere to hide.
Then, blurting it out, she said, “The reverend one’s words are most just.
失口 (shī kǒu), to let slip, to blurt out. 長老 (zhǎnglǎo), reverend elder; 長 read zhǎng.
How should I not long for my father and mother?
豈不 (qǐ bù), how could one not, surely.
It is only that this fiend spirited and beguiled me hither; his spells and prohibitions are strict, my own goings hard, the road far and the mountains distant, with none by whom to send a word home.
攝騙 (shè piàn), to carry off by force and deceit; 將 read jiāng. 法令 (fǎlìng), his magic prohibitions. 步履 (bùlǚ), one’s steps, movement. 難 here “difficult,” read nán.
I wished to make an end of myself, but feared my parents would suppose I had fled, and the matter never be made clear.
自盡 (zì jìn), to take one’s own life; 盡 read jìn. 事終不明 (shì zhōng bù míng), the truth of it never brought to light.
And so, helpless, I have dragged out this remnant of breath — truly a great sinner between heaven and earth.”
苟延殘喘 (gǒu yán cán chuǎn), to eke out one’s last gasp of life. 誠為 (chéng wéi), truly to be; 為 read wéi. 間 read jiān.
Her words done, her tears welled up like a spring.
淚如泉湧 (lèi rú quán yǒng), tears gushing forth as from a fountain.
The reproach finds its mark, and the princess’s shame gives way to a confession that at last discloses her inner situation — not the willing consort of a fiend, but a captive bound by his spells, cut off from home, who had contemplated death and been held back only by the fear that her parents would mistake her suicide for flight. The disclosure retroactively deepens every earlier scene of her captivity.
The speech completes the moral rehabilitation of a figure the chapter had left ambiguous, and it vindicates Wukong’s method: the Confucian reproach was not cruelty but the key that unlocked her grief and won her to the pilgrims’ side. Her closing self-accusation — “a great sinner between heaven and earth” — and the spring of tears seal her transformation from obstacle to ally, and prepare the compact by which Wukong will undertake her rescue.