Canonical Classics ← 第三十二回
第三十二回
píngdǐngshāngōngcáochuánxìn
liánhuādòngféngzāi

On Level-Top Mountain the Merit-Officer Brings Word · In the Lotus-Flower Cave the Wood-Mother Meets Disaster

長老述懷
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

長老述懷 The Elder Voices His Heart

zhǎnglǎohuídào:「zhǎnglǎohuídào:「

dāngniánfèngzhǐchūchángānzhǐ西láibàiyándāngniánfèngzhǐchūchángānzhǐ西láibàiyán
shèguózhōngjīnxiàngcǎiháobānshèguózhōngjīnxiàngcǎiháobān
xúnqióngtiānxiàmíngshuǐbiànrénjiāndàoshānxúnqióngtiānxiàmíngshuǐbiànrénjiāndàoshān
zhúzhúyānchóngdiédiéshínénggòushēnxián?」zhúzhúyānchóngdiédiéshínénggòushēnxián?」

逐句解 Line by line

zhǎnglǎohuídào:「 zhǎnglǎohuídào:「

The Elder reined his horse about and said: “I —

勒回馬 (lè huí mǎ), "to rein the horse about." read (rein); 長老 read zhǎng.

dāngniánfèngzhǐchūchángānzhǐ西láibàiyán dāngniánfèngzhǐchūchángānzhǐ西láibàiyán

In that year I bore the decree and set out from Cháng’an, / mindful only of coming west to bow before the Buddha’s face.

奉旨 (fèng zhǐ), "bearing the imperial decree." 長安 read Cháng’ān; 拜佛 read .

shèguózhōngjīnxiàngcǎiháobān shèguózhōngjīnxiàngcǎiháobān

In lands of relics the golden images blaze with color; / within the stūpa towers the jade brow-tuft gleams and flecks.

舍利 (shèlì), "relics" (śarīra) — read shè. 浮屠 (fútú), "stūpa"; 玉毫 (yù háo), the Buddha’s jade brow-tuft (ūrnā). read zhōng.

xúnqióngtiānxiàmíngshuǐbiànrénjiāndàoshān xúnqióngtiānxiàmíngshuǐbiànrénjiāndàoshān

I have sought to the ends of the earth its nameless waters, / passed through all the human world to mountains none has reached.

尋窮 (xún qióng), "to search to the very end." 歷遍, "to pass through everywhere." 人間, "the human world."

zhúzhúyānchóngdiédiéshínénggòushēnxián?」 zhúzhúyānchóngdiédiéshínénggòushēnxián?」

On and on through misted waves, fold upon fold heaped high — / when shall I ever win this body a moment’s rest?”

重疊疊 (chóng dié dié), "fold upon layered fold." read chóng; 身閑, "the body at leisure."


總評 Commentary

The Elder answers not with argument but with a regulated poem (律詩) of self-account. He rehearses the arc of his mission — the decree borne out of Cháng’an, the single-minded vow to bow before the Buddha, the relic-lands with their gilded images and the jade brow-tuft (玉毫, the ūrnā) gleaming within the stūpas — before turning to the weariness of it all: nameless waters sought to the world’s end, unreached mountains crossed, mist-waves heaped fold on fold.

The poem’s closing question, 幾時能夠此身閑 (“when shall this body ever rest?”), gives the topos of pilgrimage-fatigue its most plaintive form, and its position is once more ironic: the Elder longs for rest precisely as the hardest trial of the Gold- and Silver-Horn arc draws near. The verse functions less as narrative than as characterization, fixing the Elder’s piety and his very human exhaustion in a single lyric.