五行壓猴 Sealed Under the Five Phases
好大聖,急縱身又要跳出,被佛祖翻掌一撲,把這猴王推出西天門外,將五指化作金、木、水、火、土五座聯山,喚名「五行山」,輕輕的把他壓住。眾雷神與阿儺、迦葉,一個個合掌稱揚道:「善哉,善哉!」好大圣,急纵身又要跳出,被佛祖翻掌一扑,把这猴王推出西天门外,将五指化作金、木、水、火、土五座联山,唤名「五行山」,轻轻的把他压住。众雷神与阿傩、迦叶,一个个合掌称扬道:「善哉,善哉!」
逐句解 Line by line
Fine Great Sage! He swiftly sprang to leap out again — but the Buddha turned his palm and gave a push, thrust the Monkey King out beyond the Western Heaven-gate, and changed his five fingers into five joined mountains of Metal, Wood, Water, Fire and Earth, named the "Mountain of Five Phases," and lightly pressed him down beneath them.
一撲: yì (before pū, 1st tone). 將五指化作: disposal-jiāng; 化作: 作 = zuò. The Buddha's five fingers become the 五行山 — the Five Phases (金木水火土) made into a prison. The whole correlative-cosmology of the 易經 world is here turned into a single restraining act. 輕輕的 ("lightly") underscores the effortlessness.
The Thunder Gods and Ānanda and Kāśyapa, every one, joined their palms in praise, saying: "Excellent, excellent!"
一個個: yí (before gè, 4th tone). 善哉 (shàn zāi) — sādhu, the canonical Buddhist exclamation of approval, sealing the deed as righteous. The Daoist thunder-gods join the Buddhist disciples: the syncretic order is restored in one voice.
In the year he hatched from the egg and learned to be human, he set his will on cultivation and truly attained the Way.
卵化, "egg-hatched" — recalling the stone egg of Chapter 1. 學為人: 為 = wéi ("learned to be a man"). The poem opens the indictment generously, granting that the monkey did genuinely attain the Way — which makes his fall the graver.
Through ten thousand kalpas, unmoved, he might have dwelt in the fair realm; but in one morning, a single change scattered his spirit.
一朝: 一 before 朝 (zhāo, 1st tone) is yì, and 朝 = zhāo ("morning / in one day"). The couplet turns on the contrast of 萬劫 (ten thousand kalpas) against 一朝 (a single morning): an eternity of standing forfeited in a day.
Cheating Heaven, deceiving its lord, he lusted for the high seat; affronting the sages, stealing the elixir, he threw the great order into chaos.
大倫 (dà lún), the "great bonds" — the cardinal relationships and hierarchy of the cosmos. The line catalogues the offenses in strict parallel: against Heaven, against the throne, against the sages, against the elixir, against order itself. This is the Confucian register of cosmic 禮 overlaid on the Buddhist-Daoist tale.
His cup of evil now brim-full, today he meets requital; who knows on what day he will turn himself over again?
惡貫滿盈 (è guàn mǎn yíng) — "the string of evils filled to the brim," the idiom for guilt that has reached its reckoning. 翻身, "to turn the body over," means both literally to escape from under the mountain and figuratively to redeem one's fortunes — the open question on which the chapter, and the imprisonment, will hang.
The defeat is instantaneous and effortless. The monkey springs to somersault again; the Buddha merely turns his palm, pushes him out past the Western Heaven-gate, and transforms his five fingers into the 五行山, the Mountain of Five Phases — Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth — pressing him beneath it "lightly" (輕輕的). The adverb is the whole point: what the entire celestial army could not do by force, the Buddha does as an afterthought.
The symbolism is precise and deep. The 五行 are the five agents whose interactions, in the 易經 and correlative-cosmology tradition, generate and govern all phenomena. To imprison the 心猿 beneath the Five Phases is to return the unbound mind to the very pattern of cosmic order it tried to overthrow — not annihilation but containment within the structure of reality. In the inner-alchemical reading, the wild mind is at last fixed (定) — exactly the word in the chapter title, 五行山下定心猿, "beneath the Mountain of Five Phases, the mind-monkey is stilled."
The verdict-poem is notably even-handed. It grants that the monkey "truly attained the Way" (果道真) before cataloguing his offenses against Heaven, throne, sages and the 大倫 (great bonds). And it ends not on triumph but on a question — 不知何日得翻身, "who knows on what day he will turn himself over again." The phrase 翻身 is deliberately double: to crawl out from under the mountain, and to redeem one's fortunes. That open ending is the seed of the entire rest of the novel: the five-hundred-year confinement is a sentence, but also, as Anthony C. Yu stresses, a refinement awaiting the pilgrim who will free him.