"You've heard it laugh," he said. "But you haven't heard everything. Let's listen, you'll hear more." “你听到河水笑，”他说，“但是你并没有听见一切。咱们再听听，你会听到更多。” They listened. Softly sounded the river, singing in many voices. Siddhartha looked into the water, and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared, lonely, mourning for his son; he himself appeared, lonely, he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son; his son appeared, lonely as well, the boy, greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes, each one heading for his goal, each one obsessed by the goal, each one suffering. The river sang with a voice of suffering, longingly it sang, longingly, it flowed towards its goal, lamentingly its voice sang. 他们凝神细听，河水那多声部的合唱柔和地鸣响着。席特哈尔塔望着河水，在流淌的水中映出了一系列画面：他父亲出现了，孤孤单单，因思念儿子而悲伤；他自己出现了，孤孤单单，也是被思念远方儿子的烦恼束缚着；他儿子出现了，同样孤孤单单，正在他的青春欲望的轨道上向前闯荡。每个人都很痛苦。河水以一种痛苦的声音低吟，渴望地低吟着，渴望了流向自己的目标，声音如泣如诉。 "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. Siddhartha nodded. “你听见了吗？”瓦苏代瓦无声地目光在问。席特哈尔塔点点头。 "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. “再仔细听！”瓦苏代瓦低语。 Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. The image of his father, his own image, the image of his son merged, Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed, and the image of Govinda, and other images, and they merged with each other, turned all into the river, headed all, being the river, for the goal, longing, desiring, suffering, and the river's voice sounded full of yearning, full of burning woe, full of unsatisfiable desire. For the goal, the river was heading, Siddhartha saw it hurrying, the river, which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people, he had ever seen, all of these waves and waters were hurrying, suffering, towards goals, many goals, the waterfall, the lake, the rapids, the sea, and all goals were reached, and every goal was followed by a new one, and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky, turned into rain and poured down from the sky, turned into a source, a stream, a river, headed forward once again, flowed on once again. But the longing voice had changed. It still resounded, full of suffering, searching, but other voices joined it, voices of joy and of suffering, good and bad voices, laughing and sad ones, a hundred voices, a thousand voices. 席特哈尔塔努力更仔细地倾听。父亲的形象，他自己的形象，儿子的形象，都相互交融在一起，就连卡玛拉的形象也出现了，随后又变模糊，还有戈文达的形象，其他人的形象，都错杂交融在一起，全部汇入河水，作为河水奔向目标，热切、渴望和痛苦地奔向目标。河水的声音充满了渴望，充满了火辣辣的疼痛，充满了无法满足的欲求。河水在向着自己的目标奔流，席特哈尔塔望着它匆匆流去。这河水由他、他的亲人以及他见过的所有人组成，浪花奔腾，匆匆地奔向目标，奔向许多目标，奔向瀑布，奔向湖泊，奔向急流，奔向大海，到达了所有的目标，而在每一个目标之后又跟着另一个新目标！于是，水变成了蒸汽，升上天空，变成雨再从天而降，成为泉水，成为小溪，成为河流，再重新奔流，重新流淌。但是，那渴望的声音变化了。它依然充满痛苦地、探索地鸣响，但是已有别的声音加入进来，快乐和痛苦的声音，美好和丑恶的声音，欢笑和悲伤的声音，成百种声音，上千种声音。 Siddhartha listened. He was now nothing but a listener, completely concentrated on listening, completely empty, he felt, that he had now finished learning to listen. Often before, he had heard all this, these many voices in the river, today it sounded new. Already, he could no longer tell the many voices apart, not the happy ones from the weeping ones, not the ones of children from those of men, they all belonged together, the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one, the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones, everything was one, everything was intertwined and connected, entangled a thousand times. And everything together, all voices, all goals, all yearning, all suffering, all pleasure, all that was good and evil, all of this together was the world. All of it together was the flow of events, was the music of life. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river, this song of a thousand voices, when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter, when hedid not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it, but when he heard them all, perceived the whole, the oneness, then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word, which was Om: the perfection. 席特哈尔塔凝神细听。他现在是专注地倾听者，完全沉浸在倾听中，一片空白，全力吸入，他感到此刻自己已经把倾听学到家了。他原来也常听到这一切，河水中这许许多多的声音，但今天显得格外新奇。他已经不再能区分这许多声音，分不出欢笑声与哭泣声，分不出小孩声与成人声，它们全都混杂在一起，渴望的抱怨和知情的欢笑，愤怒的叫喊和垂死的呻吟，全都浑然一体，全都相互交织和相互连接，千百次地缠绕纠结在一起。把一切集合到一起，把一切声音、一切目标、一切欲念、一切痛苦、一切喜悦、一切善与恶都集合到一起，就是这个世界。把一切集合到一起就构成了事件之河，构成了生活的音乐。当席特哈尔塔全神贯注地倾听这河水的声音，倾听这支包含了千百种声音的歌曲时，当他不管烦恼也不管欢笑，他的心不是受制于某一种声音，而是让他的自我融入其中，什么都听，听见整体，听见统一时，那么，这支由上千种声音组成的伟大歌曲就凝聚成了一个字，那就是“唵”——完美无瑕。 "Do you hear," Vasudeva's gaze asked again. “你听见了吗？”瓦苏代瓦的目光又在问。