He did sense very well that this love, this blind love for his son, was a passion, something very human, that it was Sansara, a murky source, dark waters. Nevertheless, he felt at the same time, it was not worthless, it was necessary, came from the essence of his own being. This pleasure also had to be atoned for, this pain also had to be endured, these foolish acts also had to be committed. 他清楚地感到，这种爱，这种对儿子的盲目的爱，是一种激情，是符合人性的，它就是轮回，一股混浊的泉，一股捉摸不透的水。但同时他又觉得，它并非毫无价值，而是必不可少的，它来源于自己的天性。这种乐趣也应满足，这种痛苦也得品尝，这种蠢事也该干干。 Through all this, the son let him commit his foolish acts, let him court for his affection, let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. He was a good man, this father, a good, kind, soft man, perhaps a very devout man, perhaps a saint, all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. He was bored by this father, who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his, he was bored by him, and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile, every insult with friendliness, every viciousness with kindness, this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him, if he had been abused by him. 在这段时间里，儿子尽让他干蠢事，让他每天都忍气吞声地忍受儿子的坏脾气。这个父亲既没有让儿子喜欢的东西，也没有让儿子惧怕的东西。这个父亲是个好人，是个善良、温和的好人，或许是个很虔诚的人，还说不定是个圣人——然后这些品德并不能赢得孩子的心。儿子觉得父亲把他困在这间可怜的茅屋里真烦人，他讨厌父亲，至于父亲对顽皮报以微笑，对辱骂报以友善，对恶行报以宽容，则正是这个老伪君子的最可恨的阴谋诡计。孩子倒宁可受到他的恐吓，受到他虐待。 A day came, when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth, and he openly turned against his father. The latter had given him a task, he had told him to gather brushwood. But the boy did not leave the hut, in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was, thumped on the ground with his feet, clenched his fists, and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face. 一天，小席特哈尔塔的这种思想终于爆发，公开反对起父亲来。父亲分派他干一件活儿，叫他去拾些干柴枝，可是孩子却不肯出屋，执拗、恼怒地站在那儿，用脚跺地，攥紧拳头，朝父亲劈头盖脸地吼叫仇恨和轻蔑的话。 "Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth, "I'm not your servant. I do know, that you won't hit me, you don't dare; I do know, that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. You want me to become like you, just as devout, just as soft, just as wise! But I, listen up, just to make you suffer, I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer, and go to hell, than to become like you! I hate you, you're not my father, and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" “你自己去拾干柴枝吧！”他暴跳如雷，“我才不是你的奴仆！我知道你不会打我，根本就不敢！我知道你想用你的虔诚和宽容来不断地惩罚我，想让我自卑。你想让我成为像你一样的人，也那重头戏虔诚，那么温和，那么明智！可是我呢，你听着，我要让你全都，我宁可做抢劫犯和杀人凶手，下地狱，也不做像你这样的人！我恨你，你不是我父亲，哪怕你当过十次我母亲的情人！” Rage and grief boiled over in him, foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night. 他满腔愤怒与怨恨，向父亲咒骂了上百句粗野而恶毒的话。然后，孩子就跑掉了，直到夜里很晚才回来。 But the next morning, he had disappeared. What had also disappeared was a small basket, woven out of bast of two colours, in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. The boat had also disappeared, Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank. The boy had ran away. 第二天早上，孩子又不见了。另外，一个用两种颜色的树皮编成的小篮子也不见了，篮子里藏着船夫摆渡得到的铜钱与银币。小船也不见踪影，后来席特哈尔塔才发现它已泊在对岸。孩子逃走了。 "I must follow him," said Siddhartha, who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches, the boy had made yesterday. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. He'll perish. We must build a raft, Vasudeva, to get over the water." “我得去追他。”席特哈尔塔说，尽管他昨天听了孩子那些骂人话后难过得直发拌。“一个小孩子可没法独自穿过大森林。他会丧命的。咱们得扎个筏子，瓦苏代瓦，渡过河去。” "We will build a raft," said Vasudeva, "to get our boat back, which the boy has taken away. But him, you shall let run along, my friend, he is no child any more, he knows how to get around. He's looking for the path to the city, and he is right, don't forget that. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. He's taking care of himself, he's taking his course. Alas, Siddhartha, I see you suffering, but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh, at which you'll soon laugh for yourself." “那就扎一个筏子吧，”瓦苏代瓦说，“也好把孩子弄走的渡船划回来。不过，你还是放孩子走吧，朋友，他不再是小孩子了，他会救护自己的。他要找到回城的路，他做的对，别忘了这点。他做的恰恰是你误了做的事。他想要自己照顾自己，走自己的路。啊，席特哈尔塔，我看出你很难受，但你所受的苦却是别人会笑话的，也是你自己不久就会笑话的。” Siddhartha did not answer. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo, and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. Then they crossed over, drifted far off their course, pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. 席特哈尔塔没答话。他已经拿起了斧子，动手造一个竹筏，瓦苏代瓦则帮他用草绳捆扎竹筏。然后，他们划向对岸，可是筏子被河水冲下去很远，他们奋力逆流而进才使筏子到了对岸。 "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. “你干吗随身带着斧子？”席特哈尔塔问。 Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost." 瓦苏代瓦说：“咱们船上的桨有可能已经丢了。”