But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. He thought, the boy would have thrown away or broken the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. And in fact, there was no oar left in the boat. Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile, as if he wanted to say: "Don't you see what your son is trying to tell you? Don't you see that he doesn't want to be followed?" But he did not say this in words. He started making a new oar. But Siddhartha bid his farewell, to look for the run-away. Vasudeva did not stop him. 可是，席特哈尔塔知道他的朋友在想什么。他在想，孩子会把船桨扔掉或者弄断，为了报复，也为了防止他们追赶。果然，小船里没有了船桨。瓦苏代瓦指指船底，微笑地望着朋友，似乎要说：“你没看出儿子要跟你说什么吗？你没看出他不愿被人追踪吗？”不过，他并没把这话说出来。他动手制作了一支新船桨。席特哈尔塔同他道别，去找逃跑的孩子。瓦苏代瓦没有阻拦他。 When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time, the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. Either, so he thought, the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city, or, if he should still be on his way, he would conceal himself from him, the pursuer. As he continued thinking, he also found that he, on his part, was not worried for his son, that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. Nevertheless, he ran without stopping, no longer to save him, just to satisfy his desire, just to perhaps see him one more time. And he ran up to just outside of the city. 席特哈尔塔在森林里找了很久，才意识到他的搜寻毫无用处。他寻思，孩子说不定早就走出了森林，已经回到城里了，要是他还在路上，那么他看见追踪者就会躲起来。他继续想，发现自己并不为儿子担心，他内心深处知道，儿子既不会丧命，也不会在森里遇到危险。不过，尽管如此，他还是不停地赶路，不再是为了救孩子，而只是出于想再见孩子一面的渴望。他就这样一直赶到了城市。 When, near the city, he reached a wide road, he stopped, by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden, which used to belong to Kamala, where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. The past rose up in his soul, again he saw himself standing there, young, a bearded, naked Samana, the hair full of dust. For a long time, Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden, seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. 他走近城市，踏上宽阔的大街，来到那个原来属于卡玛拉的漂亮花园大门口站住了。他就是在这儿子第一次看见了坐在轿子里的卡玛拉。当时的情景又浮现在脑海中，他依稀看见自己站在那儿，年纪轻轻，一个胡子拉碴、赤身露体的沙门，满头尘土。席特哈尔塔伫立了很久，从敞开的大门往花园里望，看见身穿黄僧衣的和尚们在茂密的树下走动。 For a long time, he stood there, pondering, seeing images, listening to the story of his life. For a long time, he stood there, looked at the monks, saw young Siddhartha in their place, saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. Clearly, he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala, receiving his first kiss from her, looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism, beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. He saw Kamaswami, saw the servants, the orgies, the gamblers with the dice, the musicians, saw Kamala's song-bird in the cage, lived through all this once again, breathed Sansara, was once again old and tired, felt once again disgust, felt once again the wish to annihilate himself, was once again healed by the holy Om. 他伫立了很久，沉思着，似乎看见了一幅幅画面，听见了自己的生活故事。他伫立了很久，望着那些和尚，仿佛看到的不是他们，而是年轻的席特哈尔塔，是年轻的卡玛拉在大树下走。他清晰地看到自己如何受到卡玛拉款待，如何得到她的第一个吻，如何自豪而又轻蔑地回顾他的婆罗门生涯，自豪而又渴望地开始他的世俗生活。他看到了卡马斯瓦密，看到了仆人们，那些盛宴，那些赌徒，那些乐师，看到了那只被卡玛拉关在笼子里的小鸟，再一次体验了这一切，充满了轮回之念，于是再一次衰老和疲倦，再一次感到恶心，再一次感受到那种寻求解脱的愿望，再一次靠着圣洁的“唵”才恢复了健康。 After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time, Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish, which had made him go up to this place, that he could not help his son, that he was not allowed to cling him. Deeply, he felt the love for the run-away in his heart, like a wound, and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. 席特哈尔塔在花园门口伫立了很久，才意识到驱使自己来到此处的希望是愚蠢的，他并不能帮助儿子，他不该拽住儿子不放。他内心深深感到对逃亡者的爱，这就像一个创伤，可是他同时也感到，这创伤并不是让他哀叹感慨的，它势必会开花结果，大放光彩。 That this wound did not blossom yet, did not shine yet, at this hour, made him sad. Instead of the desired goal, which had drawn him here following the runaway son, there was now emptiness. Sadly, he sat down, felt something dying in his heart, experienced emptiness, saw no joy any more, no goal. He sat lost in thought and waited. This he had learned by the river, this one thing: waiting, having patience, listening attentively. And he sat and listened, in the dust of the road, listened to his heart, beating tiredly and sadly, waited for a voice. Many an hour he crouched, listening, saw no images any more, fell into emptiness, let himself fall, without seeing a path. And when he felt the wound burning, he silently spoke the Om, filled himself with Om. The monks in the garden saw him, and since he crouched for many hours, and dust was gathering on his gray hair, one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. The old man did not see him. 然而，此记得这创伤还没有开花结果，还没有大放光彩，这使得他很伤心。促使他来到这儿追寻失踪的儿子的目标既已消失，取而代之的便是一片空虚。他悲伤地坐下，感到心中有什么正在死去，感到空虚，看不到欢乐，看不到目标。他坐在那里出神，等待着。这是他在河边学会的本领：等耐，有耐心，倾听。他坐在大街上的尘土中倾听，倾听自己的心如何疲乏而悲哀地跳动，期待着一个声音。他坐在那儿倾听了几个钟头，再也看不见以往的情景，陷入空虚之中，听任自己沉沦，看不到一条路。他感到作品灼痛时就默诵“唵”，以“唵”来充实自己。花园里的和尚看见了他，因为他已坐了好多个钟头，花白头发落满了灰尘。于是，有一个和尚走过来，在他面前放下了两个芭蕉。老人没看到他。 From this petrified state, he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. Instantly, he recognised this touch, this tender, bashful touch, and regained his senses. He rose and greeted Vasudeva, who had followed him. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face, into the small wrinkles, which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile, into the happy eyes, then he smiled too. Now he saw the bananas lying in front of him, picked them up, gave one to the ferryman, ate the other one himself. After this, he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva, returned home to the ferry. Neither one talked about what had happened today, neither one mentioned the boy's name, neither one spoke about him running away, neither one spoke about the wound. In the hut, Siddhartha lay down on his bed, and when after a while Vasudeva came to him, to offer him a bowl of coconut-milk, he already found him asleep. 一只手碰了碰他的肩，把他从这种麻木中唤醒了。他马上就认出了这触碰，这温柔、扭怩的触碰，苏醒过来。他站起身，向来找他的瓦苏代瓦问好。他望着瓦苏代瓦那和蔼可亲的脸，望着那溢满了笑容的细密的皱纹，望着那双开朗的眼睛，也笑了。这时，他看见了面前的芭蕉，递一个给船夫，自己吃了另一个。随后，他默默地跟着瓦苏代瓦返回了森林，返回了渡口。谁也不说今天发生的事，谁也不提孩子的名字，谁也不谈他的逃走，谁也不点到那伤口。回到茅屋里，席特哈尔塔躺到自己的床上。过了一会儿，瓦苏代瓦来到他身边，端给他一碗椰子 汁，却发现他已经睡着了。