老魔哭妖 The Elder Fiend Mourns His Imps
卻說那怪到得門口,但見屍橫滿地,就是他手下的群精。慌得仰天長嘆,止不住放聲大哭道:「苦哉!痛哉!」有詩為證。詩曰:却说那怪到得门口,但见尸横满地,就是他手下的群精。慌得仰天长叹,止不住放声大哭道:「苦哉!痛哉!」有诗为证。诗曰:
逐句解 Line by line
Now the fiend, reaching the gate, saw only corpses strewn across the ground — the whole company of sprites under his command.
卻說 — "now the tale turns to" — is the storyteller shifting scene. 屍橫滿地 is "corpses strewn across the ground"; 到得 is "reached," with 得 as the complement de.
In dismay he lifted his face to Heaven with a long sigh, and, unable to hold it back, wept aloud: "Bitter woe!"
慌得 is "flustered until," 得 the degree complement de. 仰天長嘆 is "gazed up and sighed long," 長 read cháng; 止不住 is "could not stop himself."
Grievous woe!"
痛哉 — "how grievous!", the second of his two cries.
There is a poem to bear witness.
有詩為證 is "there is a poem in proof," 為 read wéi, to serve as. The formula introduces a verse the author vouches for rather than one a character speaks.
The poem says:
詩曰 — "the poem runs," the tag that turns prose into verse.
Hateful, the wayward ape and the base, unruly horse; the numinous embryo, transmigrating, came down to the mortal dust.
猿乖馬劣 is "the wayward ape and the unruly horse" — Wukong and the dragon-horse, seen down the wrong end of the telescope, through the demons' resentment. 靈胎轉託 is "the numinous embryo took rebirth"; 降塵凡 is "came down to the mortal dust," 降 read jiàng, to descend, not the xiáng of subduing a demon. The descent is the demons' own.
Only for a wrongful thought they left the gates of Heaven; and so, forgetting their true forms, they fell to this mountain.
錯念 is a single errant thought; 天闕 is the gate-towers of Heaven; 忘形 is "forgot their true form." The couplet supplies the cause of the fall, and it is startlingly small — one lapse of mind, and out of Heaven.
Like wild geese lost from the flock, their grief cut deep; the demon-host, its clan wiped out, wept streaming tears.
鴻雁失群, "wild geese parted from the flock," is the standard figure for the bereaved. 妖兵絕族 is "the demon-soldiers' line extinguished"; 潺潺 is the ceaseless trickle of the tears.
When will the burden of sin be full, the lock of transgression opened — that they may return to the root, restore the origin, and mount again to the imperial pass?
孽滿 is "the karmic debt paid in full"; 開愆鎖 is "unlock the fetters of guilt." 返本還原 (fǎn běn huán yuán), "return to the root, restore the origin," takes 還 as huán, to return; 上御關 is "ascend to the imperial pass." The whole stanza ends on a question, and the chapter will answer it.
The demon-chief comes back to a field of his own dead and breaks down, and the poem the author offers "in proof" lifts the moment clear of the immediate carnage into the novel's larger karmic accounting. What has been comic villainy is granted, for one stanza, a tragic backstory.
The verse reveals the demons as fallen celestials: a numinous embryo that left the gates of Heaven for a single errant thought and tumbled, its form forgotten, onto this mountain. The geese scattered from the flock, and the closing question — when will the debt be paid, so that they may return to the root and climb back? — recast the whole Gold-Horn and Silver-Horn episode as an exile with a homecoming attached, and point quietly at the reclamation by Lord Lao that will end it. Even the comic monsters get a cosmology.