名著精讀:《悉達多》 輪迴(1)

SANSARA
For a long time, Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust, though without being a part of it. His senses, which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana, had awoken again, he had tasted riches, had tasted lust, had tasted power; nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana; Kamala, being smart, had realized this quite right. It was still the art of thinking, of waiting, of fasting, which guided his life; still the people of the world, the childlike people, had remained alien to him as he was alien to them.
Years passed by; surrounded by the good life, Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. He had become rich, for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants, and a garden before the city by the river. The people liked him, they came to him, whenever they needed money or advice, but there was nobody close to him, except Kamala.
That high, bright state of being awake, which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth, in those days after Gotama's sermon, after the separation from Govinda, that tense expectation, that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers, that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart, had slowly become a memory, had been fleeting; distant and quiet, the holy source murmured, which used to be near, which used to murmur within himself. Nevertheless, many things he had learned from the Samanas, he had learned from Gotama, he had learned from his father the Brahman, had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living, joy of thinking, hours of meditation, secret knowledge of the self, of his eternal entity, which is neither body nor consciousness. Many a part of this he still had, but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. Just as a potter's wheel, once it has been set in motion, will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop, thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism, the wheel of thinking, the wheel of differentiation for a long time, still turning, but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. Slowly, like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree, filling it slowly and making it rot, the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul, slowly it filled his soul, made it heavy, made it tired, put it to sleep. On the other hand, his senses had become alive, there was much they had learned, much they had experienced.

輪迴
席特哈爾塔過了很長時間的世俗生活和性愛生活，卻並沒有完全屬於它。他在狂熱的沙門年代裏扼殺的性慾又甦醒了，他嚐到了財富的滋味，嚐到了肉慾的滋味，嚐到了權勢的滋味，但他心裏很長時間仍是個沙門，而聰明的卡瑪拉也準確地看清了這一點。仍然是思考、等待和齋戒的藝術引導着他的生活，他對世俗的人們，對那些孩子般的俗人依然生疏，正像他們也不熟悉他一樣。
歲月荏苒，席特哈爾塔置身在安樂中幾乎沒覺察年華的流逝。他富了，早就擁有了一幢自己的住宅以及自己的僕人，在城郊的河邊還另有一個花園。人們都喜歡他，需要錢或忠告時就來找他，可是除了卡瑪拉，沒有人跟他特別親近。
他以前在青春年代裏體驗過的那種高度敏銳的清醒，在聽戈塔馬講經之後的日子裏，在與戈文達分手後的日子裏，他體驗過的那種高度敏銳的清醒，那種緊張的期待，那種既無學說又無師長的值得自豪的獨立，那種準備在自己內心傾聽神靈聲音的靈活決心，都漸漸變成了回憶，變成了過去；原來離他很近的在他心中流過的聖泉，已經是在遠處輕輕地流淌了。他向沙門學到的許多東西，他向戈塔馬學到的許多東西，他向婆羅門父親學到的許多東西，依然長時間地留在他心裏：節儉的生活，思考的樂趣，潛修的光陰，還有對自己，即對那個既非肉體又非意識的永恆自我的悄然認知。它們有的確實還留在他心裏，但是，畢竟已一個接一個地消失，被塵土掩蓋了。就像製陶工匠的圓盤，一旦轉動起來就會久久地轉個不停，最後才慢慢地減速和停止那樣，席特哈爾塔心裏的苦修之輪、思考之輪和分辨之輪也是這樣久久地轉動不已，現在仍在轉動，但是已經慢了，晃動了，接近停止了。就像溫氣滲入正在枯死的樹幹，慢慢地充滿了它並使之腐朽那樣，俗氣和惰性也侵入了席特哈爾塔的心靈，慢慢地充滿了它並使之學生，使之疲乏，使之麻木。而他的情慾卻變得活躍起來，學到了很多，也體驗了很多。