人離鄉賤 Away from Home, Held Cheap
長老聞言，滿眼垂淚道：「可憐，可憐！這才是人離鄉賤。我弟子從小兒出家，做了和尚，又不曾拜懺吃葷生歹意，看經懷怒壞禪心；又不曾丟瓦拋磚傷佛殿，阿羅臉上剝真金。噫！可憐啊！不知是那世裡觸傷天地，教我今生常遇不良人。──和尚，你不留我們宿便罷了，怎麼又說這等憊懶話，教我們在前道廊下去蹲？此話不與行者說還好，若說了，那猴子進來，一頓鐵棒，把孤拐都打斷你的。」長老道：「也罷，也罷。常言道：『人將禮樂為先。』我且進去問他一聲，看他意下如何？」长老闻言，满眼垂泪道：「可怜，可怜！这才是人离乡贱。我弟子从小儿出家，做了和尚，又不曾拜忏吃荤生歹意，看经怀怒坏禅心；又不曾丢瓦抛砖伤佛殿，阿罗脸上剥真金。噫！可怜啊！不知是那世里触伤天地，教我今生常遇不良人。──和尚，你不留我们宿便罢了，怎么又说这等惫懒话，教我们在前道廊下去蹲？此话不与行者说还好，若说了，那猴子进来，一顿铁棒，把孤拐都打断你的。」长老道：「也罢，也罢。常言道：『人将礼乐为先。』我且进去问他一声，看他意下如何？」
逐句解 Line by line
The elder, hearing this, brimmed with tears and said: "How pitiful, how pitiful!"
滿眼垂淚 is eyes brimming over. 長 is zhǎng.
"This indeed is what it means: away from home, a man is held cheap."
The proverb he reaches for, 人離鄉賤, means a person is held cheap once far from home. It has a twin that usually travels with it — 物離鄉貴, goods are dear far from where they are made — and the pair together make a small bitter joke: distance raises the price of things and lowers the price of people.
"I, your disciple, left home as a small child and became a monk; never at my penances have I eaten meat or harboured evil thoughts, never at the scriptures have I nursed anger and spoiled the meditative mind;"
The defence begins, and it is a list of everything he has not done. 從小兒 is "from childhood," 兒 the light suffix er; 拜懺 is to perform rites of repentance; 吃葷 is to eat meat or the pungent vegetables forbidden to monks; 禪心 is the meditative mind.
"nor have I flung tile or hurled brick to damage a Buddha-hall, nor stripped the true gold from an arhat's face."
The list gets more specific, and funnier for it. 丟瓦拋磚 is throwing tiles and bricks about; 阿羅 is an arhat, short for 阿羅漢; 剝真金 is stripping the gilding off. He is denying crimes nobody has accused him of — but hold the thought, because the abbot is about to accuse somebody of every one of them. 佛 is fó.
"Alas!"
噫 is a cry of grief.
"How pitiful!"
可憐, "how pitiful," is the refrain the whole lament is built on.
"I know not in what former life I offended Heaven and Earth, that in this present life I so often meet with unkind men."
And now the karmic accounting. 那世 is "which former life"; 觸傷天地 is to give offence to heaven and earth; 教 is jiào, to cause.
"— Monk, if you won't lodge us, well and good; but why speak such slovenly words and send us to squat under the front verandah?"
Mid-lament he starts arguing with the abbot in his head, which is the most human thing he does in the chapter. 便罷了 is "and let it be at that," 罷 read bà; 憊懶話 is lazy, churlish talk; 教 is jiào; 和尚 takes hé on the first character.
"It's just as well not to tell the Pilgrim this; for if I did, and that monkey came in, one round of his iron rod would snap the very ankle-bones of you."
And here is the flash of what is coming. The meek master consoles himself by imagining what his fearsome disciple would do — 孤拐 is the ankle-bone — and then decides not to mention it. 那猴子 is "that monkey," 那 read nà; 都 is dōu; 還 is hái.
The elder said: "Well, let it be, let it be."
也罷 is "so be it," 罷 read bà. 長 is zhǎng.
"As the common saying goes: 'A man puts rites and music first.'"
He rallies himself with Confucius rather than the Buddha. 禮樂, rites and music, is the classic Confucian pairing, 樂 read yuè, music. 將…為 is "to take … as," 將 read jiāng and 為 read wéi.
"Let me go in and ask him once, and see how his mind inclines."
意下如何 is "how his intent stands." He is going to try politeness, in person, on a man who has already refused him.
Overhearing his dismissal, Tripitaka dissolves into tears and a lament: the proverb about being held cheap far from home, a protest of his lifelong blamelessness — he has never broken his abstinence, damaged a shrine or stripped the gold off an image — and a karmic question, in what former life did he so offend heaven that he must keep meeting unkind men? It is a set-piece of self-pity, tender and slightly ridiculous at the same time.
It also carries a flash of the comedy the chapter is building toward. Mid-grief, he lets slip that it is just as well Wukong has not heard any of this, since the monkey would snap the abbot's ankle-bones with one blow — the meek master consoling himself with his terrifying disciple, and then deciding to say nothing. He pulls himself together with a Confucian proverb about rites and music coming first, and resolves to try courtesy face to face, walking straight into the confrontation the reader can already see.