名著精讀:《悉達多》 在河邊(4)

Deep was his sleep and without dreams, for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. When he woke up after many hours, he felt as if ten years had passed, he heard the water quietly flowing, did not know where he was and who had brought him here, opened his eyes, saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him, and he remembered where he was and how he got here. But it took him a long while for this, and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil, infinitely distant, infinitely far away, infinitely meaningless. He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it, this past life seemed to him like a very old, previous incarnation, like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his previous life had been abandoned by him, that, full of disgust and wretchedness, he had even intended to throw his life away, but that by a river, under a coconut-tree, he has come to his senses, the holy word Om on his lips, that then he had fallen asleepand had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. Quietly, he spoke the word Om to himself, speaking which he had fallen asleep, and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om, a thinking of Om, a submergence and complete entering into Om, into the nameless, the perfected.
What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep, he had been thus refreshed, thus renewed, thus rejuvenated! Perhaps, he had really died, had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no, he knew himself, he knew his hand and his feet, knew the place where he lay, knew this self in his chest, this Siddhartha, the eccentric, the weird one, but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed, was renewed, was strangely well rested, strangely awake, joyful and curious.
Siddhartha straightened up, then he saw a person sitting opposite to him, an unknown man, a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head, sitting in the position of pondering. He observed the man, who had neither hair on his head nor a beard, and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda, the friend of his youth, Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. Govinda had aged, he too, but still his face bore the same features, expressed zeal, faithfulness, searching, timidness. But when Govinda now, sensing his gaze, opened his eyes and looked at him, Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. Govinda was happy to find him awake; apparently, he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up, though he did not know him.
"I have been sleeping," said Siddhartha. "However did you get here?"
"You have been sleeping," answered Govinda. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places, where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. I, oh sir, am a follower of the exalted Gotama, the Buddha, the Sakyamuni, and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path, when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. Therefore, I sought to wake you up, oh sir, and since I saw that your sleep was very deep, I stayed behind from my group and sat with you. And then, so it seems, I have fallen asleep myself, I who wanted to guard your sleep. Badly, I have served you, tiredness has overwhelmed me. But now that you're awake, let me go to catch up with my brothers."
"I thank you, Samana, for watching out over my sleep," spoke Siddhartha. "You're friendly, you followers of the exalted one. Now you may go then."
"I'm going, sir. May you, sir, always be in good health."
"I thank you, Samana."
Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell."
"Farewell, Govinda," said Siddhartha.
The monk stopped.
"Permit me to ask, sir, from where do you know my name?"
Now, Siddhartha smiled.
"I know you, oh Govinda, from your father's hut, and from the school of the Brahmans, and from the offerings, and from our walk to the Samanas, and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove Jetavana."
"You're Siddhartha," Govinda exclaimed loudly. Now, I'm recognising you, and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. Be welcome, Siddhartha, my joy is great, to see you again."
"It also gives me joy, to see you again. You've been the guard of my sleep, again I thank you for this, though I wouldn't have required any guard. Where are you going to, oh friend?"
"I'm going nowhere. We monks are always travelling, whenever it is not the rainy season, we always move from one place to another, live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us, accept alms, move on. It is always like this. But you, Siddhartha, where are you going to?"
Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too, friend, it is as it is with you. I'm going nowhere. I'm just travelling. I'm on a pilgrimage."
Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage, and I believe in you. But, forgive me, oh Siddhartha, you do not look like a pilgrim. You're wearing a rich man's garments, you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman, and your hair, with the fragrance of perfume, is not a pilgrim's hair, not the hair of a Samana."
"Right so, my dear, you have observed well, your keen eyes see everything. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage."
"You're on a pilgrimage," said Govinda. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes, few in such shoes, few with such hair. Never I have met such a pilgrim, being a pilgrim myself for many years."
"I believe you, my dear Govinda. But now, today, you've met a pilgrim just like this, wearing such shoes, such a garment. Remember, my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances, not eternal, anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair, and our hair and bodies themselves. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes, you've seen this quite right. I'm wearing them, because I have been a rich man, and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people, for I have been one of them."
"And now, Siddhartha, what are you now?"
"I don't know it, I don't know it just like you. I'm travelling. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more, and what I'll be tomorrow, I don't know."
"You've lost your riches?"

"I've lost them or they me. They somehow happened to slip away from me. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly, Govinda. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich man? Non-eternal things change quickly, Govinda, you know it."

他睡得很香，沒有做夢，他已經很久沒有這麼酣睡過了。幾個小時之後，他醒來了，覺得彷彿已過去了十年。他聽見河水的潺潺流淌聲，不明白自己身在何處，是誰把他弄到了這兒。他睜開眼睛，看見頭頂的樹林和天空十分尺度，回想自己是在哪兒，自己是怎麼來的。他想了好長一會兒，往事就像被一層薄紗遮着，顯得很遠很遠，無比遙遠，完全無關緊要。他只知道自己已拋棄了過去的生活（在他回憶的最初一瞬間，他覺得過去的生活就像是一個遙遠過去的化身，就像是他現在這個自我的一個早產兒）——他滿懷厭惡與愁悶，甚至想拋棄自己的生命，但是在一條河邊，在一棵椰子樹下，他口中念育着神聖的“唵”字，迴歸了自我，然後便沉沉睡去，而現在又醒來了，作爲一個新人觀看這世界。他低聲唸誦着曾使他沉沉睡去的“唵”字，覺得他的沉睡只是一聲悠長而專注的“唵”的唸誦，一次“唵”的思索，是沉入和徹底到達“唵”之中，到達無可名狀的完美境界。
這是一次多麼愜意的酣睡啊！從來沒有哪次睡眠能使他這麼精神煥發，這麼神采奕奕，這麼年輕活潑！也許他真的已經死掉了，已經消亡，而現在又重新託生爲一個新年的軀體？不，他認得自己，認得自己的手和腳，認得他躺在這個地方， 認得他胸中的這個自我，這個席特哈爾塔，這個執拗的傢伙，這個怪人。不過，這個席特哈爾塔也確實變了，精神抖擻了，令人奇怪地睡足了，顯得格外清醒、愉快和好奇。
席特哈爾塔直起身，忽然看見對面坐着一個人，一個陌生人，一個穿黃僧衣、剃光頭的和尚，擺出打坐靜修的姿勢。他細細打量這個既無頭髮也無鬍子的人，看了一會兒，忽然認出這個和尚就是戈文達，他年輕時的好友，那個扳依了活佛的戈文達。戈文達老了，跟他一樣，但臉上的神色依然如故，顯露出熱情、忠誠、探求和憂心忡忡。戈文達這時也覺察到了他的目光，睜開眼看他，但席特哈爾塔發現他並沒有認出自己。戈文達見他已醒過來很高興。顯然戈文達已在這兒坐了很久，等着他醒來，儘管並沒有認出他。
“我剛纔睡着了。”席特哈爾塔說，“你是怎麼來到這兒的？”
“你睡着了。”戈文達答道，“在這樣的地方睡覺可不好，這裏常有蛇，是森林中野獸出沒之處。哦，先生，我是戈塔馬活佛的一名弟子，釋迦牟尼的信徒，跟一夥同伴走這條路去朝聖，看見你躺在這兒，睡在一個不宜睡覺的危險地方。因此我試圖叫醒你，先生，見你睡得很熟，我便單獨留下來守護你。顯然是我自己也睡着了，而我本來是想守護你的。我失職了，疲勞控制了我。現在你已經醒了，讓我走吧，去追趕我的弟兄們吧。”
“謝謝你，沙門，謝謝你守護我睡覺。”席特哈爾塔說，“你們這些活佛的弟子真好。你可以走啦。”
“我走了，先生，祝你永遠健康。”
“謝謝你，沙門。”
戈文達行了個禮，說道：“再會！”
“再會，戈文達。”席特哈爾塔說。
和尚愣住了。
“請問，先生，你怎麼會知道我的名字？”
席特哈爾塔微微一笑。
“我認得你，戈文達。從你父親的小屋，從那所婆羅門學校，從參加祭祀儀式，從咱們一起去找沙門，從你在耶塔瓦納林苑皈依了活佛時，我就認得你！”
“你是席特哈爾塔！”戈文達大聲叫道，“現在我認出你了，我不明白怎麼竟沒能馬上認出你！歡迎你，席特哈爾塔，與你重逢我十分高興。”
“我也很高興再見到你。你剛纔守護我睡覺，我要再一次感謝你，儘管我並不需要人守護。你去哪兒，朋友？”
“我不去哪兒。我們和尚總是雲遊四方，只要不是雨季，我們總是從一處趕到另一處，按照規矩生活，講經，化緣，又動身上路。總是如此。而你呢，席特哈爾塔，你要去何處？”
席特哈爾塔說：“我的情況跟你一樣，朋友。我不去哪兒。我僅僅是在路上。我去朝聖。”
戈文達說：“你說去朝聖，我相信你。可是請原諒，席特哈爾塔，你的樣子可不像個朝聖者哇。你身穿富人的衣服，腳穿貴人的鞋子，頭髮飄散出香水味兒。這可不是一個朝聖者的頭髮，也不是一個沙門的頭髮呀！”
“不錯，親愛的，你觀察得真仔細，你的銳利眼睛看出了一切。可我並沒跟你說我是個沙門呀，我只是說去朝聖。事實上我正是去朝聖。”
“你去朝聖，”戈文達說，“但是，很少有人穿着這樣的衣服、鞋子，留着這樣的頭髮去朝聖。我已經朝聖多年，從來沒見過一個這樣的朝聖者。”
“我相信你說的話，戈文達。可是現在，今天，你偏偏遇上了這麼個朝聖者，穿這樣的鞋子，穿這樣的衣服。請記住，親愛的：萬物的世界是短暫的，多變的，而最爲短暫多變的是我們的衣服，我們的髮式，以及我們的頭髮和身體。我身穿一個富人的衣服 ，這你沒看錯。我這樣穿戴是因爲我曾經是個富人，而我的頭髮像花花公子，也因爲我曾經是他們當中的一員。”
“現在呢，席特哈爾塔，現在你是什麼人？”
“我不清楚，我知道得跟你一樣少。我正在半路上。我曾經是富人，但現在不是了，而明天我將是什麼，我自己了不清楚。”
“你失去了你的財產？”

“我失去了財產，或者說是它失去了我。反正是沒了。造化之輪飛轉，戈文達。婆羅門席特哈爾塔如今安在？沙門席特哈爾塔如今安在？富商席特哈爾塔如今安在？短暫的東西在迅速地變換，戈文達，這你明白。”