山根之嘆 Lament Beneath the Mountain
卻說那大聖被魔使法壓住在山根之下，遇苦思三藏，逢災念聖僧。厲聲叫道：「師父啊，想當時你到兩界山，揭了壓帖，老孫脫了大難，秉教沙門。感菩薩賜與法旨，我和你同住同修，同緣同相，同見同知。乍想到了此處，遭逢魔障，又被他遣山壓了。可憐，可憐！你死該當，只難為沙僧、八戒與那小龍化馬一場。却说那大圣被魔使法压住在山根之下，遇苦思三藏，逢灾念圣僧。厉声叫道：「师父啊，想当时你到两界山，揭了压帖，老孙脱了大难，秉教沙门。感菩萨赐与法旨，我和你同住同修，同缘同相，同见同知。乍想到了此处，遭逢魔障，又被他遣山压了。可怜，可怜！你死该当，只难为沙僧、八戒与那小龙化马一场。
嘆罷，那珠淚如雨。叹罢，那珠泪如雨。
逐句解 Line by line
Now the Great Sage, pinned by the fiend's magic beneath the roots of the mountains, met his suffering thinking of Tripitaka, met his calamity longing for the holy monk.
山根之下 (shān gēn zhī xià), “beneath the mountains' roots.” 遇苦思三藏，逢災念聖僧 (yù kǔ sī sān zàng, féng zāi niàn shèng sēng), a parallel line: in hardship his thought turns wholly to his master.
He cried aloud: “Master! Think back — when you came to the Mountain of Two Frontiers, tore off the sealing-slip, and freed old Monkey from his great ordeal, I took up the gate of the faith.
兩界山 (liǎng jiè shān), the “Mountain of Two Frontiers,” where Tripitaka freed Monkey from his five-century imprisonment. 大難 (dà nàn), “great ordeal,” 難 read nàn. 秉教沙門 (bǐng jiào shā mén), “took up the Buddhist gate.”
“Grateful for the Bodhisattva's charge, you and I have dwelt as one and cultivated as one — one karma, one form, one seeing, one knowing.
法旨 (fǎ zhǐ), “the sacred charge, the dharma-command.” 同緣同相 (tóng yuán tóng xiàng), “one karmic bond, one form,” 相 read xiàng, the Buddhist “aspect, characteristic.”
“And now, come all at once to this place, we meet with a demon-obstacle, and I am pinned under his sent mountains. Pitiful, pitiful!
魔障 (mó zhàng), “a demon-obstacle, a hindrance set by evil.” 遣山 (qiǎn shān), “the dispatched mountains.” 可憐 (kě lián), “pitiful, alas.”
“That I should die is fitting enough — it's only hard on Sha Monk, Eight-Rules, and that little dragon who became my horse.
死該當 (sǐ gāi dāng), “deserving of death, fated to die.” 難為 (nán wéi), “to make things hard for, to trouble,” 為 read wéi. Pilgrim grieves less for himself than for his companions.
This is just the case: “The tall tree draws the wind, and the wind shakes the tree; / a man seeks lofty fame, and fame destroys the man.”
樹大招風 (shù dà zhāo fēng), “a big tree invites the wind” — a proverb on the perils of eminence. 人為名高 (rén wèi míng gāo), “a man for the sake of high fame,” 為 here the preposition wèi, “for.”
His sighing done, his pearl-like tears fell like rain.
嘆罷 (tàn bà), “having finished sighing,” 罷 here bà, marking completion. 珠淚如雨 (zhū lèi rú yǔ), “pearl-tears like rain.”
The chapter pauses on its rarest note — Pilgrim in grief. Pinned and helpless, the Great Sage turns not to rage but to memory, recalling the whole arc of his bond with Tripitaka: the release at the Mountain of Two Frontiers, the Bodhisattva's charge, the years of shared cultivation, “one karma, one form, one seeing, one knowing.” The parallelism of the lament gives it a liturgical weight, as if he were reciting the vows he fears he has failed.
Characteristically, his sorrow is selfless — his own death is “fitting enough,” and what pains him is the fate of his companions. The embedded proverb, “the tall tree draws the wind… fame destroys the man,” turns his ordeal into a maxim on the cost of eminence: it is precisely because he is the famed Great Sage that the demons went to such lengths to bury him. The tears that close the passage are the more moving for being so unlike him, and they mark the low point from which the rescue, already stirring among the mountain-gods, will lift the tale.