Siddhartha said nothing, quietly his eyes looked at hers. 席特哈尔塔没出声，眼睛静静地盯着她的眼睛。 "You have achieved it?" she asked. "You have found peace?" “你达到目的了吗？”她问，“你找到安宁了吗？” He smiled and placed his hand on hers. 他笑笑，把手按在她手上。 "I'm seeing it," she said, "I'm seeing it. I too will find peace." “我明白了，”她说，“明白了。我也会找到安宁的。” "You have found it," Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. “你已经找到了。”席特哈尔塔轻声说。 Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama, which wanted to take, in order to see the face of the perfected one, to breathe his peace, and she thought that she had now found him in his place, and that it was good, just as good, as if she had seen the other one. She wanted to tell this to him, but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. Without speaking, she looked at him, and he saw the life fading from her eyes. When the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim, when the final shiver ran through her limbs, his finger closed her eyelids. 卡玛拉目不转睛地盯着他。好想起自己本心是要去朝拜戈塔马，亲眼目睹活佛的面容，体验他的平和安详，可是现在她却找到了席特哈尔塔。这也好，跟见到活佛一样好。她想告诉他这点，可是舌头已不再听从她的意志了。她默默地望着他，他从她的眼睛发现了她的生命正在渐渐熄灭。当最后的痛苦充满并且溢出了她的眼睛，当最后的震颤掠过她的肢体时，他用手指合上了她的眼睑。 For a long time, he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. For a long time, he observed her mouth, her old, tired mouth, with those lips, which had become thin, and he remembered, that he used to, in the spring of his years, compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig. For a long time, he sat, read in the pale face, in the tired wrinkles, filled himself with this sight, saw his own face lying in the same manner, just as white, just as quenched out, and saw at the same time his face and hers being young, with red lips, with fiery eyes, and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real, the feeling of eternity, completely filled every aspect of his being. Deeply he felt, more deeply than ever before, in this hour, the indestructibility of every life, the eternity of every moment. 他呆坐了许久，凝视着她那长眠不醒的面容。他久久地审视她的嘴，她那衰老、疲倦的嘴以及变得狭长的嘴唇，忆起自己正值青春时曾把这张嘴比作一枚新剖开的无花果。他坐了许久，端详那苍白的面容，端详那疲倦的皱纹，心里充满了这景象，仿佛看见自己的脸也躺在那儿，同样苍白，同样死气沉沉，与此同时又能仿佛看见自己的脸和她的脸依然年轻，嘴唇红润，眼睛炯炯有神。这种当前的状况与往昔的情憬商时并存的感觉完全渗透了他，这是一种永恒的感觉。他深深地感到，比以往更深记得地感到了每一个生命的不可摧毁，每一个瞬间的永恒。 When he rose, Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. But Siddhartha did not eat. In the stable, where their goat stood, the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves, and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut, listening to the river, surrounded by the past, touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time. But occasionally, he rose, stepped to the door of the hut and listened, whether the boy was sleeping. 他站起身，瓦苏代瓦已经给他盛好了饭，可是席特哈尔塔没吃。两个老人在他们的羊圈里铺上草垫子，瓦苏代瓦便躺下睡了。席特哈尔塔走了出去，在茅屋前坐了一夜，倾听河水的声音，回忆往事，他这一辈子的所有时光都同时触动和簇拥着他。他有时也站起来，走到茅屋的门边去听听孩子是否睡着了。