醍醐灌頂 Balm at the Name of Wukong
噫!那沙僧一聞「孫悟空」的三個字,好便似醍醐灌頂,甘露滋心;一面天生喜,滿腔都是春;也不似聞得個人來,就如拾著一方金玉一般。你看他捽手拂衣,走出門來,對行者施禮道:「哥哥,你真是從天而降也。萬乞救我一救。」行者笑道:「你這個沙尼,師父念緊箍兒咒,可肯替我方便一聲?都弄嘴施展,要保師父,如何不走西方路,卻在這裡蹲甚麼?」噫!那沙僧一闻「孙悟空」的三个字,好便似醍醐灌顶,甘露滋心;一面天生喜,满腔都是春;也不似闻得个人来,就如拾着一方金玉一般。你看他捽手拂衣,走出门来,对行者施礼道:「哥哥,你真是从天而降也。万乞救我一救。」行者笑道:「你这个沙尼,师父念紧箍儿咒,可肯替我方便一声?都弄嘴施展,要保师父,如何不走西方路,却在这里蹲甚么?」
逐句解 Line by line
Ah!
噫, yī, is an exclamation of feeling — the storyteller drawing breath before the good part. It marks the turn to Sha Seng's joy, and the same syllable will do the same office for the demon much later, to quite different effect.
The moment Sha Seng heard those three words, "Sun Wukong," it was as though pure cream were poured upon his crown and sweet dew steeped his heart; his whole face was gladness, his whole breast a springtime; it was not as if he had merely heard that someone had come, but as though he had chanced upon a piece of gold and jade.
The relief comes out in a cascade of borrowed images, sacred and homely by turns. 醍醐灌頂, tí hú guàn dǐng, is "clarified butter poured over the crown of the head" — a Buddhist figure for sudden illumination, and still the standard Chinese phrase for a remark that makes everything clear at a stroke. 甘露滋心, gān lù zī xīn, sweet dew steeping the heart. Then the register drops all the way to the street: it was like picking up a lump of gold and jade in the road. 拾著, shí zháo, to have chanced upon.
See him now shake his hands and brush down his robe, and come out at the door, and salute Pilgrim, saying, "Brother, you are indeed come down from Heaven itself.
捽手拂衣, zuó shǒu fú yī, to shake out the hands and brush down the robe — the gestures of a man pulling himself together after being tied up for a day. 從天而降, cóng tiān ér jiàng, to come down out of Heaven, said of an unlooked-for deliverance. Here 降 is jiàng, "descend," and not the xiáng, "subdue," that has been running through the chapter.
I beg you a thousand times — save me, do save me."
萬乞, wàn qǐ, "ten thousand entreaties" — to beg in the most earnest terms available.
Pilgrim said with a laugh, "You, Sha the shaveling — when the master chanted the Tight-Fillet Spell, were you willing to put in one word of accommodation for me?
Wukong will not take gratitude without extracting a joke first. 沙尼, Shā ní, "Sha the shaveling," is a teasing coinage. 緊箍兒咒, jǐn gū'r zhòu, is the Tight-Fillet Spell — the headband Guanyin fixed on him, which Tripitaka can tighten by chanting. 方便一聲, fāng biàn yī shēng, to put in one accommodating word. The grievance is specific: nobody ever spoke up for him.
All of you were glib enough, showing off, so keen to guard the master — how is it you are not on the road to the West, but crouching here instead? What are you about?"
弄嘴, nòng zuǐ, to be glib, to make a show with the mouth; 施展, shī zhǎn, to display one's powers; 蹲, dūn, to squat. "So keen to guard the master — why are you crouching in a cave?" is the whole taunt in one line.
Sha Seng's rush of feeling at the mere name of Wukong is given in an escalating cascade of Buddhist and seasonal figures — clarified butter on the crown, sweet dew in the heart, a whole breast turned to springtime — the rhetoric of sudden grace pressed into the service of a prisoner's relief. The homely last image, of finding gold and jade in the road, lets the high figures settle back into the everyday register the scene never really leaves.
Wukong, being Wukong, will not accept thanks without first charging a fee in mockery, needling Sha Seng about the Tight-Fillet Spell and the disciples' failure to speak for him to Tripitaka. The teasing is barbed but not unkind, and it re-establishes, in the idiom of banter, the pecking order of the band even in the moment of rescue: the Great Sage saves, but on his own terms and with his pride intact.