原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
含詞賦 With rhapsody
死生不顧
The Battle-Verse (II)
你來我去交鋒戰，刀迎棒架不相饒。你来我去交锋战，刀迎棒架不相饶。
猴王鐵棍依三略，怪物鋼刀按六韜。猴王铁棍依三略，怪物钢刀按六韬。
一個慣行手段為魔主，一個廣施法力保唐僧。一个惯行手段为魔主，一个广施法力保唐僧。
猛烈的猴王添猛烈，英豪的怪物長英豪。猛烈的猴王添猛烈，英豪的怪物长英豪。
死生不顧空中打，都為唐僧拜佛遙。死生不顾空中打，都为唐僧拜佛遥。
逐句解 Line by line
你來我去交鋒戰，刀迎棒架不相饒。
你来我去交锋战，刀迎棒架不相饶。
You come, I go, blades crossed in the fray; / sword meeting, staff parrying, neither yielding a jot.
交鋒 (jiāo fēng), to cross weapons, to join battle. 不相饒 (bù xiāng ráo), neither giving quarter; 相 read xiāng.
猴王鐵棍依三略，怪物鋼刀按六韜。
猴王铁棍依三略，怪物钢刀按六韬。
The Monkey King’s iron cudgel follows the Three Strategies; / the fiend’s steel blade keeps to the Six Bow-Cases.
三略 (Sān Luè) and 六韜 (Liù Tāo), the Three Strategies and Six Bow-Cases, classic treatises of military art — here figuring the disciplined skill of the two fighters.
一個慣行手段為魔主，一個廣施法力保唐僧。
一个惯行手段为魔主，一个广施法力保唐僧。
The one, long practised in his arts, plays the fiend-lord; / the other, broadly working his powers, guards the Tang Monk.
慣行手段 (guàn xíng shǒuduàn), well-versed in stratagems. 為魔主 (wéi mó zhǔ), to act as lord of fiends; 為 read wéi. 廣施法力 (guǎng shī fǎlì), to work one’s powers to the full.
猛烈的猴王添猛烈，英豪的怪物長英豪。
猛烈的猴王添猛烈，英豪的怪物长英豪。
The fierce Monkey King grows fiercer yet; / the valiant fiend waxes the more in valour.
猛烈 (měngliè), fierce, violent. 長英豪 (zhǎng yīngháo), to grow the more heroic; 長 here “to increase,” read zhǎng.
死生不顧空中打，都為唐僧拜佛遙。
死生不顾空中打，都为唐僧拜佛遥。
Heedless of life and death they fight aloft in the air — / all for the Tang Monk’s sake, who bows to the Buddha afar.
死生不顧 (sǐ shēng bù gù), reckless of life and death. 都為唐僧 (dōu wèi Tángsēng), all for the Tang Monk’s sake; 為 here “for,” read wèi. 空中 with 中 as zhōng; 佛 read fó.
總評 Commentary
The second half of the rhapsody sustains the parallel structure while turning it toward the fighters’ inner qualities and allegiances: the disciplined art of each is figured through the ancient military classics, and the antithesis of “fiend-lord” against guardian of the pilgrim states the moral opposition beneath the clash of arms. The escalation — the fierce growing fiercer, the valiant more valiant — drives the couplets toward their close.
The final couplet lifts the whole from spectacle to purpose: reckless of life and death though the combatants are, the verse declares the true stake to be the Tang Monk and the scripture-quest he embodies, “who bows to the Buddha afar.” The turn is characteristic of the novel’s battle-rhapsodies, which regularly close by referring the martial display back to the pilgrimage’s sacred end, so that even this duel on a demon’s peak is folded into the larger design of the journey to the West.