名著精讀:《悉達多》 唵(3)

"You've heard it laugh," he said. "But you haven't heard everything. Let's listen, you'll hear more."
They listened. Softly sounded the river, singing in many voices. Siddhartha looked into the water, and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared, lonely, mourning for his son; he himself appeared, lonely, he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son; his son appeared, lonely as well, the boy, greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes, each one heading for his goal, each one obsessed by the goal, each one suffering. The river sang with a voice of suffering, longingly it sang, longingly, it flowed towards its goal, lamentingly its voice sang.
"Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. Siddhartha nodded.
"Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered.
Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. The image of his father, his own image, the image of his son merged, Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed, and the image of Govinda, and other images, and they merged with each other, turned all into the river, headed all, being the river, for the goal, longing, desiring, suffering, and the river's voice sounded full of yearning, full of burning woe, full of unsatisfiable desire. For the goal, the river was heading, Siddhartha saw it hurrying, the river, which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people, he had ever seen, all of these waves and waters were hurrying, suffering, towards goals, many goals, the waterfall, the lake, the rapids, the sea, and all goals were reached, and every goal was followed by a new one, and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky, turned into rain and poured down from the sky, turned into a source, a stream, a river, headed forward once again, flowed on once again. But the longing voice had changed. It still resounded, full of suffering, searching, but other voices joined it, voices of joy and of suffering, good and bad voices, laughing and sad ones, a hundred voices, a thousand voices.
Siddhartha listened. He was now nothing but a listener, completely concentrated on listening, completely empty, he felt, that he had now finished learning to listen. Often before, he had heard all this, these many voices in the river, today it sounded new. Already, he could no longer tell the many voices apart, not the happy ones from the weeping ones, not the ones of children from those of men, they all belonged together, the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one, the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones, everything was one, everything was intertwined and connected, entangled a thousand times. And everything together, all voices, all goals, all yearning, all suffering, all pleasure, all that was good and evil, all of this together was the world. All of it together was the flow of events, was the music of life. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river, this song of a thousand voices, when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter, when hedid not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it, but when he heard them all, perceived the whole, the oneness, then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word, which was Om: the perfection.
"Do you hear," Vasudeva's gaze asked again.

“你聽到河水笑，”他說，“但是你並沒有聽見一切。咱們再聽聽，你會聽到更多。”
他們凝神細聽，河水那多聲部的合唱柔和地鳴響着。席特哈爾塔望着河水，在流淌的水中映出了一系列畫面：他父親出現了，孤孤單單，因思念兒子而悲傷；他自己出現了，孤孤單單，也是被思念遠方兒子的煩惱束縛着；他兒子出現了，同樣孤孤單單，正在他的青春慾望的軌道上向前闖蕩。每個人都很痛苦。河水以一種痛苦的聲音低吟，渴望地低吟着，渴望了流向自己的目標，聲音如泣如訴。
“你聽見了嗎？”瓦蘇代瓦無聲地目光在問。席特哈爾塔點點頭。
“再仔細聽！”瓦蘇代瓦低語。
席特哈爾塔努力更仔細地傾聽。父親的形象，他自己的形象，兒子的形象，都相互交融在一起，就連卡瑪拉的形象也出現了，隨後又變模糊，還有戈文達的形象，其他人的形象，都錯雜交融在一起，全部匯入河水，作爲河水奔向目標，熱切、渴望和痛苦地奔向目標。河水的聲音充滿了渴望，充滿了火辣辣的疼痛，充滿了無法滿足的欲求。河水在向着自己的目標奔流，席特哈爾塔望着它匆匆流去。這河水由他、他的親人以及他見過的所有人組成，浪花奔騰，匆匆地奔向目標，奔向許多目標，奔向瀑布，奔向湖泊，奔向急流，奔向大海，到達了所有的目標，而在每一個目標之後又跟着另一個新目標！於是，水變成了蒸汽，升上天空，變成雨再從天而降，成爲泉水，成爲小溪，成爲河流，再重新奔流，重新流淌。但是，那渴望的聲音變化了。它依然充滿痛苦地、探索地鳴響，但是已有別的聲音加入進來，快樂和痛苦的聲音，美好和醜惡的聲音，歡笑和悲傷的聲音，成百種聲音，上千種聲音。
席特哈爾塔凝神細聽。他現在是專注地傾聽者，完全沉浸在傾聽中，一片空白，全力吸入，他感到此刻自己已經把傾聽學到家了。他原來也常聽到這一切，河水中這許許多多的聲音，但今天顯得格外新奇。他已經不再能區分這許多聲音，分不出歡笑聲與哭泣聲，分不出小孩聲與成人聲，它們全都混雜在一起，渴望的抱怨和知情的歡笑，憤怒的叫喊和垂死的呻吟，全都渾然一體，全都相互交織和相互連接，千百次地纏繞糾結在一起。把一切集合到一起，把一切聲音、一切目標、一切慾念、一切痛苦、一切喜悅、一切善與惡都集合到一起，就是這個世界。把一切集合到一起就構成了事件之河，構成了生活的音樂。當席特哈爾塔全神貫注地傾聽這河水的聲音，傾聽這支包含了千百種聲音的歌曲時，當他不管煩惱也不管歡笑，他的心不是受制於某一種聲音，而是讓他的自我融入其中，什麼都聽，聽見整體，聽見統一時，那麼，這支由上千種聲音組成的偉大歌曲就凝聚成了一個字，那就是“唵”——完美無瑕。
“你聽見了嗎？”瓦蘇代瓦的目光又在問。