“I have come,” said Govinda.
“我来了。”戈文达说。
In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics, the skinny Samanas, and offered them their companionship and-obedience. They were accepted.
这天晚上，他们追上了那几个苦行僧，那几个枯瘦的沙门，表示愿意跟他们同行并服从他们，因而被接纳了。
“You have come,” said Siddhartha and smiled.
“你来了。”席特哈尔塔说，微微一笑。
Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured, unsown cloak. He ate only once a day, and never something cooked. He fasted for fifteen days. He fasted for twenty-eight days. The flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes, long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry, shaggy beard grew on his chin. His glance turned to icy when he encountered women; his mouth twitched with contempt, when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. He saw merchants trading, princes hunting, mourners wailing for their dead, whores offering themselves, physicians trying to help the sick, priests determining the most suitable day for seeding, lovers loving, mothers nursing their children-and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye, it all lied, it all stank, it all stank of lies, it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful, and it all was just concealed putrefaction. The world tasted bitter. Life was torture.
席特哈尔塔把自己的衣服送给了街上的一个穷婆罗门。他只系一条遮羞带，身披没有缝过的土色斗篷。他每天只吃一餐，而且从来不吃煮过的食物。他斋戒了十五天。他斋戒了二十八天。他腿上和脸上的肉都逐渐消失了。热烈的梦想在他那显然变大的眼睛里闪烁，枯瘦的手指上长出了长长的指甲，下巴上也长出了干枯、蓬乱的胡子。他遇见女人时目光变得冷冰冰，穿过城市碰到穿戴华丽的人时就轻蔑地撇撇嘴。他看见商贩做买卖，贵族外出打猎，服丧者为死人哀哭，妓女卖弄色相，医生诊治病人，僧侣择定播种的日子，变人相亲相爱，母亲给孩子喂奶——然而，他对这一切又不屑一顾，一切都是欺骗，一切都是臭哄哄的，一切都散发着谎言的恶臭，一切都伪装成高雅、幸福和美好的样子，一切都在腐烂变质。世界的味道真苦涩，生活就是烦恼。
WITH THE SAMANAS
和沙门在一起
A goal stood before Siddhartha, a single goal: to become empty, empty of thirst, empty of wishing, empty of dreams, empty of joy and sorrow. Dead to himself, not to be a self any more, to find tranquility with an emptied heard, to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts, that was his goal. Once all of my self was overcome and had died, once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart, then the ultimate part of me had to awake, the innermost of my being, which is no longer my self, the great secret.
席特哈尔塔眼前有一个目标，一个唯一的目标，那就是万事皆空，没有渴求，没有愿望，没有梦想，也没有苦和乐。自动消亡，不再有自我，为变空的心觅得安宁，在舍弃自我的思索中等着奇迹出现，这就是他的目标。如果整个自我都被克服了消亡了，如果心中的欲望和本能都已沉寂，那么，最后的东西，那个不再是自我的内在本性，那个大秘密，就会觉醒。
Silently, Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above, glowing with pain, glowing with thirst, and stood there, until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. Silently, he stood there in the rainy season, from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders, over freezing hips and legs, and the penitent stood there, until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more, until they were silent, until they were quiet. Silently, he cowered in the thorny bushes, blood dripped from the burning skin, from festering wounds dripped pus, and Siddhartha stayed rigidly, stayed motionless, until no blood flowed any more, until nothing stung any more, until nothing burned any more.
席特哈尔塔默默地站在直射的烈日下，疼痛得厉害，干渴得厉害，一直站到他不再感觉到疼痛和干渴。雨季里，他默默地站在雨中，水珠从他的头发滴落到冰冷的肩膀上，滴落到冰冷的腰上和腿上，这个忏悔者却站着不动，直到双肩和两腿都不再感觉到冷，直到它们麻木，直到它们平静下来。他默默地蹲在荆棘丛中，灼痛的皮肤淌出了血，溃烂的伤口流出了脓，席特哈尔塔木然地蹲着，一动不动地蹲着，直到不再出血，直到不再针扎般疼痛，直到不再烧灼般疼痛。
Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly, learned to get along with only few breathes, learned to stop breathing. He learned, beginning with the breath, to calm the beat of his heart, leaned to reduce the beats of his heart, until they were only a few and almost none.
席特哈尔塔挺直地坐着，学习节省呼吸，学习稍加呼吸即可，学习屏住呼吸。他由呼吸开始，进而学习平定心跳，学习减少心跳的次数，一直到很少甚至几乎没有了心路。
Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas, Siddhartha practised self-denial, practised meditation, according to a new Samana rules. A heron flew over the bamboo forest-and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul, flew over forest and mountains, was a heron, ate fish, felt the pangs of a heron’s hunger, spoke the heron’s croak, died a heron’s death. A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank, and Siddhartha’s soul slipped inside the body, was the dead jackal, lay on the banks, got bloated, stank, decayed, was dismembered by hyaenas, was skinned by vultures, turned into a skeleton, turned to dust, was blown across the fields. And Siddhartha’s soul returned, had died, had decayed, was scattered as dust, had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle, awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap, where he could escape from the cycle, where the end of the causes, where an eternity without suffering began. He killed his senses, he killed his memory, he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms, was an animal, was carrion, was stone, was wood, was water, and awoke every time to find his old self again, sun shone or moon, was his self again, turned round in the cycle, felt thirst, overcame the thirst, felt new thirst.
席特哈尔塔受年纪最老的那个沙门指教，练习摆脱自我，练习专心潜修，按照新的沙门规矩来苦练。一只鹭鸟飞过竹林——席特哈尔塔让灵魂钻入了鹭鸟，飞越森林和山脉。他变成了鹭鸟，吞吃鲜鱼，像鹭鸟那样挨饿，发出鹭鸟的啼叫声，像鹭鸟那样死去。一只死狼躺在沙岸上。席特哈尔塔的灵魂钻进了那具尸体，变成了死狼，躺在沙滩上，膨胀，发臭，腐烂，被鬣狗撕碎，被兀鹰啄食，变成了骨架，化作尘土，吹散到原野里。席特哈尔塔的灵魂又回来了，经过了死亡、腐烂和尘化，已经堂到了轮回的可怕滋味，在新的渴望中就像一个猎手那样期待着冲出缺口，以逃脱这种轮回，一直找到起因的尽头，从而开始无痛苦的永恒。他破坏了自己的知觉，破坏了自己的记忆，从自我变成成千上万种陌生的形象，变成了动物、腐尸、石头、木头和水，但每次又总是重新醒来，太阳或者月亮当空，他重新变成自我，在这种徨中摇摆晃动，感到干渴，克服干渴，又感到新的干渴。
By his side lived Govinda, his shadow, walked the same paths, undertook the same efforts. They rarely spoke to one another, than the service and the exercises required. Occasionally the two of them went through the villages, to beg for food for themselves and their teachers.
戈文达在他身边生活，是他的影子，跟他走同样的路，受同样的磨难。他们互相很少讲话，只讲工作和修行所需的话。有时，他们两个人一起穿村过街，去为自己和老师化缘。
Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas, many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. He went the way of self-denial by means of pain, through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain, hunger, thirst, tiredness. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation, through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. These and other ways he learned to go, a thousand times he left his self, for hours and days he remained in the non-self. But though the ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the self. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times, stayed in nothingness, stayed in the animal, in the stone, the return was inevitable, inescapable was the hour, when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight, in the shade or in the rain, and was once again his self and Siddhartha, and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him.
席特哈尔塔从沙门那儿学到了很多东西，他学会了从自我出发走许多条路。他经历了痛苦，经历了自愿受的痛苦，克服了痛苦、饥渴与困乏。他通过冥思苦想，通过对各种想法的含义进行空想，走上了摆脱自我之路炝 学会了走这些路以及别的路，千百次地摆脱他的自我，在非我中逗留几个钟头乃至几天。可是，尽管这些路都是从自我出发的，其终点却又总是回到自我。虽然席特哈尔塔千百次地逃离自我，在虚无中留连，在动物、石头中留连，回归却是无可避免的，重新寻获自己的时刻是逃脱不了的，不论是在阳光下还晨月光下，不论是在树荫里还是在雨中，他重又变成了自我和席特哈尔塔，重又感觉到承受轮回的痛苦。
“How do you think, Govinda,” Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way, “how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?”
“你怎么想，戈文达？”席特哈尔塔在一次化缘途中问道，“你怎么想，咱们是继续前进吗？咱们达到目标了吗？”
And Siddhartha said quietly, as if he was talking to himself: “What is meditation? What is leaving one’s body? What is fasting? What is holding one’s breath? It is fleeing from the self, it is a short escape of the agony of being a self, it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. The same escape, the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn, drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk. Then he won’t feel his self any more, then he won’t feel the pains of life any more, then he finds a short numbing of the senses. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine, he’ll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises, staying in the non-self. This is how it is, oh Govinda.”
席特哈尔塔轻声回答，就好像在自言自语：“什么是沉思潜修？什么是脱离躯体？什么是斋戒？什么是屏息敛气？那都是逃离自我，是从自我的痛苦中短暂的挣脱，是对抗生活的痛苦和荒谬的短暂麻醉。这种逃脱，这种短暂麻醉，即使赶车人在小客栈里也可以找到，只要他喝上几杯米酒或发过酵的椰子汁就行。然后，他就不再感觉到自我，不再感觉到生活的痛苦，得到了短暂的麻醉。他喝了米酒后迷迷糊糊地入睡，找到的正是席特哈尔塔和戈文达找到的感觉，而咱们却得经过长期间的苦修后才能摆脱自己的躯壳，在非我之中停留。就是这么回事，戈文达。”
Govinda answered: “We have learned, and we’ll continue learning. You’ll be a great Samana, Siddhartha. Quickly, you’ve learned every exercise, often the old Samanas have admired you. One day, you’ll be a holy man, oh Siddhartha.”
戈文达回答：“咱们已经学会了，而且还要继续学下去。你会成为一个伟大的沙门，席特哈尔塔。每一种功夫你都学得很快，那些老沙门经常赞扬你。你总有一天会成为圣人，席特哈尔塔。”
Quoth Siddhartha: “I can’t help but feel that it is not like this, my friend. What I’ve learned, being among the Samanas, up to this day, this, oh Govinda, I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are, my friend, among carters and gamblers I could have learned it.”
席特哈尔塔说：“我可不这么看，朋友。迄今为止我向沙门到的东西，戈文达，其实可以更快更直截了当地学到。在妓院区的小酒馆里，朋友，在马车夫和赌徒中间，我其实也可以学到。”
Quoth Govinda: “Siddhartha is putting me on. How could you have learned meditation, holding your breath, insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?”
戈文达说：“席特哈尔塔，你大概是在跟我开玩笑吧。在那些可怜虫那儿，你怎么能学会沉思潜修，怎么能学会屏息敛气，怎么能学会忍耐饥饿和痛苦呢？”
And once again, another time, when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda, to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers, Siddhartha began to speak and said: “What now, oh Govinda, might we be on the right path? Might we get closer to enlightenment? Might we get closer to salvation? Or do we perhaps live in a circle — we, who have thought we were escaping the cycle?”
后来又有一次，席特哈尔塔与戈文达一起离开了森林，到村子里去为他们的弟兄和老师化缘。席特哈尔塔开口说道：“现在怎么样，戈文达，咱们大概走对了路了吧？咱们已经接近知识了吧？咱们已经接近获救了吧？抑或咱们只不过是在兜圈子——却自以为是逃脱了这种轮回？”
And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: “I do not know, I’ve never been a drunkard. But that I, Siddhartha, find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom, from salvation, as a child in the mother’s womb, this I know, oh Govinda, this I know.”
席特哈尔塔含笑说道：“我不知道这些，我从来没做过醉鬼。但是我，席特哈尔塔，在我的苦行与潜修中只是得到了短暂的麻醉，而距离智慧，距离获救却依然像我是母体中的胎儿时那么遥远，这点我知道，戈文达，这点我清楚。”
Quoth Govinda: “You say so, oh friend, and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a Samana is no drunkard. It’s true that a drinker numbs his senses, it’s true that he briefly escapes and rests, but he’ll return from the delusion, finds everything to be unchanged, has not become wiser, has gathered no enlightenment, — has not risen several steps.”
戈文达说：“你怎么这样说，朋友，你毕竟知道，席特哈尔塔不是赶牛人，而是一个沙门也不是酒鬼。酒鬼可以得到麻醉，得到短暂的逃避与休息，但是当他从幻觉中醒来时，就会发现一切仍是老样子，他并没有变得更聪明些，并没有积累什么知识，并没有登上更高的台阶。”
“If you only,” spoke Govinda, “wouldn’t speak such terrible words, Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men, among so many Brahmans, among so many austere and venerable Samanas, among so many who are searching, so many who are eagerly trying, so many holy men, no one will find the path of paths?”
戈文达说：“但愿你别说这么耸人听闻的话，席特哈尔塔！在这么多有学问的人当中，在这么多婆罗门当中，在这么多严肃和可敬的沙门当中，在这么多孜孜不倦、热心勤奋、高尚圣洁的人当中，怎么就没一个能找到那条路中之路呢？”
Quoth Govinda: “Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age.”
戈文达说：“大概六十岁了吧。”
Quoth Govinda: “We have learned a lot, Siddhartha, there is still much to learn. We are not going around in circles, we are moving up, the circle is a spiral, we have already ascended many a level.”
戈文达说：“咱们学到了很多东西，席特哈尔塔，可是也还有很多东西要再去学。咱们不是在原地兜圈子，而是往上走，这圆圈是个螺旋。咱们已经上了好几级台阶。”
And Siddhartha: “He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. He’ll turn seventy and eighty, and you and me, we will grow just as old and will do our exercises, and will fast, and will meditate. But we will not reach the nirvana, he won’t and we won’t. Oh Govinda, I believe out of all the Samanas out there, perhaps not a single one, not a single one, will reach the nirvana. We find comfort, we find numbness, we learn feats, to deceive others. But the most important thing, the path of paths, we will not find.”
席特哈尔塔说：“他已经六十岁了，却还没有达到涅PAN。他可能会活到七十岁和八十岁，而你和我，咱们也同样会变老。咱们不停地苦练、斋戒和沉思潜修。可是，咱们都不会达到涅PAN，他不行，咱们也不行。哦，戈文达，我相信，在所有的沙门中大概没一个能达到涅PAN。咱们得到了安慰，得到了麻醉，学会了种种自我迷惑的技巧。但重要的是咱们没找到那条路中之路。”
Siddhartha answered: “How old, would you think, is our oldest Samana, our venerable teacher?”
席特哈尔塔说道：“你讲讲看，咱们那位老沙门，那个可敬的老师，大约多少岁了？”
But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery, with a quiet, a slightly sad, a slightly mocking voice: “Soon, Govinda, your friend will leave the path of the Samanas, he has walked along your side for so long. I’m suffering of thirst, oh Govinda, and on this long path of a Samana, my thirst has remained as strong as ever. I always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions. I have asked the Brahmans, year after year, and I have asked the holy Vedas, year after year, and I have asked the devote Samanas, year after year. Perhaps, oh Govinda, it had been just as well, had been just as smart and just as profitable, if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet, oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing, so I believe, as what we refer to as `learning’. There is, oh my friend, just one knowledge, this is everywhere, this is Atman, this is within me and within you and within every creature. And so I’m starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it, than learning.”
但是，席特哈尔塔却用一种既伤心又嘲讽的声音，用一种轻轻的、有些伤心又有些嘲讽的声音说道：“戈文达，你的朋友不久就要离开这条跟 你一起走了这么久的沙门之路了。我很干渴，戈文达，在这条漫长的沙门之路上，我的干渴丝毫也没能缓解。我一直在渴求知识，我一直充满了疑问。年复一年，我请教了婆罗门，年复一年，我请教了神圣的《吠陀》。啊，戈文达，或许我去向犀鸟或黑猩猩求教，也会同样有益，同样聪明，同样见效。啊，戈文达，我花费了很长的时间，现在仍没有结束，结果是弄明白了这点：并没有什么东西可学！因此我相信，实际上并没有那种咱们称之为‘学习’的东西。哦，朋友，只有一种知识是普通存在的，那就是阿特曼，它在我身上，也在你身上，它在每个人身上。于是，我开始相信：这种知识的死敌正是求知的欲望，是学习。”
Yes, he thought, standing there with his head low, what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? What remains? What can stand the test? And he shook his head.
可是，席特哈尔塔却默默不语。他仔细地思索戈文达对他说的话，从头到尾地琢磨这些话。
But Siddhartha remained silent. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end.
他心中的幸福就难以用言语来表达。
And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself, a verse from an Upanishad:
这时，戈文达喃喃地念了起来，那是《奥义书》里的两行话：
At this, Govinda stopped on the path, rose his hands, and spoke: “If you, Siddhartha, only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly, you words stir up fear in my heart. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer, what of the venerability of the Brahmans’ caste, what of the holiness of the Samanas, if it was as you say, if there was no learning?! What, oh Siddhartha, what would then become of all of this what is holy, what is precious, what is venerable on earth?!”
戈文达在路上停下了，举起双手来说：“席特哈尔塔，你可千万别用这种话来吓你的朋友！真的，你的话在我心里引起了恐惧。你想想，假如真像你说的那样，没有了学习，那么，哪里还有祈祷的神圣，哪里还有婆罗门种姓的尊严，哪里还有沙门的神圣呢？！啊！席特哈尔塔，那么，世上一切神圣、宝贵和可敬的东西将会变成什么样子呢？！”
He who ponderingly, of a purified spirit, loses himself in the meditation of Atman, unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart.
谁沉思默想，心灵净化，潜心于阿特曼，
This myth, this rumour, this legend resounded, its fragrants rose up, here and there; in the towns, the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest, the Samanas; again and again, the name of Gotama, the Buddha reached the ears of the young men, with good and with bad talk, with praise and with defamation.
这个传闻，这个流言，这个说法，四处流传，沸沸场场，在城里有婆罗门讲，在森林里有沙门讲，活佛戈塔马的名字再三传到这两人年轻人耳中，有好坏也有坏话，有赞颂也有诽谤。
At one time, when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises, some news, a rumour, a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared, Gotama by name, the exalted one, the Buddha, he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. He was said to wander through the land, teaching, surrounded by disciples, without possession, without home, without a wife, in the yellow cloak of an ascetic, but with a cheerful brow, a man of bliss, and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students.
他低着头站在那儿，心想，是的，我们觉得神圣的一切还会剩下什么呢？有什么能留下来呢？有什么能经得住考验呢？他摇了摇头。后来，在这两个年轻人和沙门一起生活并苦修了将近三年时，通过各种渠道传来了一个消息，一个流言，一个传闻：有一个名叫戈塔马的人，是个高僧、活佛，他在自己身上克服了尘世的烦恼，终于使再生之轮停了焉炝 四处讲学，漫游全国，受信徒爱戴，没有产业，没有家园，没有妻室，身穿苦行僧的黄僧衣，但是他额头开朗愉快，是个得道之人，婆罗门和王公贵族在他面前都十分谦恭，愿意做他的弟子。
It was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man, a wise man, a knowledgeable one, whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence, and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it, many would believe, many would doubt, but many would get on their way as soon as possible, to seek the wise man, the helper, just like this this myth ran through the land, that fragrant myth of Gotama, the Buddha, the wise man of the family of Sakya. He possessed, so the believers said, the highest enlightenment, he remembered his previous lives, he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle, was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him, he had performed miracles, had overcome the devil, had spoken to the gods. But his enemies and disbelievers said, this Gotama was a vain seducer, he would spent his days in luxury, scorned the offerings, was without learning, and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation.
就好像瘟疫正在某个国家肆虐，这时忽然传出消息，有某一个人，一个贤人，一个行家，他的话语和气息就足以治好每一个受到瘟疫侵袭的人。这消息传遍了全国，人人都在谈论，好多人相信，好多人怀疑，还有好多人立即动身去寻访这个贤人和救星。就这样，全国都传遍了这个消息，这个出身于释迦牟尼家族的戈塔马活佛的美好传闻。信徒们都说，他已经掌握了最高的知识，他刻自己前世之事，他已经达到了涅PAN，永远不会再回到轮回之中，永远不会再陷入万物的浊流了。到处都流传着许多有关他的惊人的、不可思议的消息，说他创造了奇迹，制服了妖魔，曾经跟神圣对过话。但是，他的敌人和对头则说，这个戈塔马是个自命不凡的骗子，过着舒适的日子，忽视祭祀，没有学问，不懂 得苦修也不懂得清心寡欲。
The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest, and also Siddhartha, and also Govinda, slowly, drop by drop, every drop laden with hope, every drop laden with doubt. They rarely talked about it, because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest, but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures, and he had no high opinion of this Gotama.
这传闻也传到了森林里的沙门这儿，传到了席特哈尔塔和戈文达耳中。它是缓慢地点滴地传来的，每一滴都难以置信，每一滴又难以置疑。在他们之间很少谈论这件事，因为那个老沙门不喜欢这个传闻。他听说，那个所谓的活佛以前 个苦行僧，在森林里生活过，可是后来又回头过上了舒适的生活，寻欢作乐，因此他很瞧不起那个戈塔马。
“Oh Siddhartha,” Govinda spoke one day to his friend. “Today, I was in the village, and a Brahman invited me into his house, and in his house, there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha, who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. Verily, this made my chest ache when I breathed, and thought to myself: If only I would too, if only we both would too, Siddhartha and me, live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak, friend, wouldn’t we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha’s mouth?”
“哦，席特哈尔塔，”戈文达有一次对他的朋友说，“今天我到了村子里，一个婆罗门请我到他家，他家有个刚从马加达回来的婆罗门子弟。此人亲眼见过那位活佛，聆听过他的教诲。说真话，当时我激动得连喘气都感到胸口痛，我暗自想：但愿我，但愿我们俩， 席特哈尔塔和我，也能有机会聆听到那位完人的亲口哮诲！你说吧，朋友，咱们要不要也到那儿去，听活佛亲口讲经？”
The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. After all, the world was sick, life was hard to bear-and behold, here a source seemed to spring forth, here a messenger seemed to call out, comforting, mild, full of noble promises. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard, everywhere in the lands of India, the young men listened up, felt a longing, felt hope, and among the Brahmans’ sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome, when he brought news of him, the exalted one, the Sakyamuni.
关于活佛的传闻听起来十分悦耳，从这些说法中散发出迷人的馨香。这个世界出了毛病，生活简直让人难以忍受 可是你瞧，这里似乎涌出了一股清泉，似乎响起了一声使者的呼唤，令人欣慰而柔和，充满了高雅的承诺。关于活佛的传言到处传播，印度各地的年轻人都十分关注，感觉到渴求，感觉到希望。在城乡的婆罗门子弟当中，朝圣者和外来人都受到热烈的欢迎，只要他们能带来有关那位活佛的消息。
Quoth Siddhartha: “Always, oh Govinda, I had thought, Govinda would stay with the Samanas, always I had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises, which are becoming a Samana. But behold, I had not known Govinda well enough, I knew little of his heart. So now you, my faithful friend, want to take a new path and go there, where the Buddha spreads his teachings.”
席特哈尔塔说：“哦，戈文达，我一直以为戈文达会留在沙门这儿，一直以为戈文达的目标是活到六十岁和七十岁，继续从事那些为沙门装点门面的技巧和修行呢。可是你看，我对戈文达了解得太少，我对他的心知道得太少。朋友，如今你也想另选一条路，去活佛那儿聆听他的教诲了！”
Quoth Govinda: “You’re mocking me. Mock me if you like, Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire, an eagerness, to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me, you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?”
戈文达说：“你可真爱讽刺人。那就随你讽刺吧，席特哈尔塔！不过，你心中不是也有一种要求，一种兴趣，想去聆听这种教诲么？你以前不是跟我说过，这样沙门之路不会再长久走下去了么？”
At this, Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner, in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery, and said: “Well, Govinda, you’ve spoken well, you’ve remembered correctly. If you only remembered the other thing as well, you’ve heard from me, which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning, and that my faith in words, which are brought to us by teachers, is small. But let’s do it, my dear, I am willing to listen to these teachings-though in my heart I believe that we’ve already tasted the best fruit of these teachings.”
席特哈尔塔以他特有的方式笑了，语气里带着一丝悲哀和嘲讽，说道：“不错，戈文达，你说得对，你记性真好。但愿你也记得你从我这儿听到的其他话，那就是我对学说和学习已经怀疑和厌倦了，我对老师们灌输给我们的那些话也缺乏信仰了。好吧，亲爱的，我已经准备好了去听那种教诲——尽管我心里确信，我们已经尝过了那种教诲的甜美果实。”
On this very same day, Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision, that he wanted to leave him. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. But the Samana became angry, because the two young men wanted to leave him, and talked loudly and used crude swearwords.
就在同一天，席特哈尔塔把他的决定告诉了那个老沙门，表示要离开他。他说话的态度谦逊有礼，合乎晚辈与弟子的规矩，可是，老沙门却对两个年轻人要离开他大为光火，高声大叫，并且使用了粗野的骂人话。
Quoth Govinda: “Your willingness delights my heart. But tell me, how should this be possible? How should the Gotama’s teachings, even before we have heard them, have already revealed their best fruit to us?”
戈文达说：“你的决心真叫我高兴。可是你倒说说看，这怎么会可能呢？在聆听戈塔马的教诲之前，咱们怎么可能已经尝到了它的甜美果实呢？”
Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda’s ear and whispered to him: “Now, I want to show the old man that I’ve learned something from him.”
戈文达吓坏了，不知所措。而席特哈尔塔却把嘴凑到戈文达耳边，低语道：“现在我要让这个老头儿看看，我在他这儿到底学到了什么？”
Quoth Siddhartha: “Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest, oh Govinda! But this fruit, which we already now received thanks to the Gotama, consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us, oh friend, let us await with calm hearts.”
席特哈尔塔说：“哦，戈文达，咱们还是去细细品味这果实，继续耐心静候吧！咱们现在就该感谢戈塔马，因为这果实就在于他促使我们脱离了沙门！至于他是否还会给予我们别的更好的东西，朋友，咱们就耐心静候吧。”
“I do not seek to walk on water,” said Siddhartha. “Let old Samanas be content with such feats!”
“我才不要求能在水面上行走呢。”席特哈尔塔说，“让那些老沙门去为这样的本领而沾沾自喜吧！”
Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana, with a concentrated soul, he captured the old man’s glance with his glances, deprived him of his power, made him mute, took away his free will, subdued him under his own will, commanded him, to do silently, whatever he demanded him to do. The old man became mute, his eyes became motionless, his will was paralysed, his arms were hanging down; without power, he had fallen victim to Siddhartha’s spell. But Siddhartha’s thoughts brought the Samana under their control, he had to carry out, what they commanded. And thus, the old man made several bows, performed gestures of blessing, spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. And the young men returned the bows with thanks, returned the wish, went on their way with salutations.
他凑到老沙门面前，聚精会神，直视老人的目光，用法术蛊惑他，使他出不得声，没了主见，屈服于徒弟的意志，不声不响地去做要求他做的事情。老人果然不出声了，眼神呆滞，意志瘫痪，胳臂也耷拉下来，无力对付席特哈尔塔的法术；而席特哈尔塔的思想却控制了老沙门，使他不得不执行给他下的命令。于是，老人连连鞠躬，并且作出祝福的手势，结结巴巴地说着“一路顺风”之类的祝愿。两个年轻人也鞠躬致谢，答以祝愿，然后有礼貌地离去了。
On the way, Govinda said: “Oh Siddhartha, you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew. It is hard, it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana. Truly, if you had stayed there, you would soon have learned to walk on water.”
半路上，戈文达说：“哦，席特哈尔塔，你从沙门那儿学到的东西可比我所了解的多。要想蛊惑一个老沙门是困难的，十分困难。真的，要是你还留在那儿，你很快就能学会在水面上自由行走！”
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