原文 Original text
繁體 Traditional
Reader's edition
日暮入城
Into the City at Dusk
那長老卻才下馬,行到城門之下。此時已太陽西墜。過吊橋,進了三層門裡,街上人見智淵寺的和尚牽馬挑包,盡皆迴避。正行時,卻到山門前。但見那門上高懸著一面金字大匾,乃「敕建智淵寺」。眾僧推開門,穿過金剛殿,把正殿門開了。唐僧取袈裟披起,拜畢金身,方入。眾僧叫:「看家的。」老和尚走出來,看見行者,就拜道:「爺爺,你來了?」那长老却才下马,行到城门之下。此时已太阳西坠。过吊桥,进了三层门里,街上人见智渊寺的和尚牵马挑包,尽皆回避。正行时,却到山门前。但见那门上高悬着一面金字大匾,乃「敕建智渊寺」。众僧推开门,穿过金刚殿,把正殿门开了。唐僧取袈裟披起,拜毕金身,方入。众僧叫:「看家的。」老和尚走出来,看见行者,就拜道:「爷爷,你来了?」
逐句解 Line by line
那長老卻才下馬,行到城門之下。
那长老却才下马,行到城门之下。
That elder then dismounted and walked up to below the city gate.
那長老: 那 = nà; 長 = zhǎng.
此時已太陽西墜。
此时已太阳西坠。
By this time the sun was sinking in the west.
西墜, sinking in the west.
過吊橋,進了三層門裡,街上人見智淵寺的和尚牽馬挑包,盡皆迴避。
过吊桥,进了三层门里,街上人见智渊寺的和尚牵马挑包,尽皆回避。
Crossing the drawbridge and passing through three layers of gates, the people in the streets, seeing the Wisdom-Deep monks leading a horse and carrying baggage, all drew aside.
盡皆: 盡 = jìn. 迴避, to draw aside, get out of the way.
正行時,卻到山門前。
正行时,却到山门前。
As they went on, they came before the temple’s mountain-gate.
山門, the outer gate of a temple.
但見那門上高懸著一面金字大匾,乃「敕建智淵寺」。
但见那门上高悬着一面金字大匾,乃「敕建智渊寺」。
There, high on the gate, hung a great plaque of golden characters, reading “Wisdom-Deep Temple, Imperially Built.”
那門上: 那 = nà. 高懸著: durative 著 = zhe. 一面: 一 = yí. Here 但見那 is inline prose narration (“there one saw…”), not a verse tag.
眾僧推開門,穿過金剛殿,把正殿門開了。
众僧推开门,穿过金刚殿,把正殿门开了。
The monks pushed open the gate, passed through the Vajra Hall, and opened the doors of the main hall.
金剛殿, the Hall of the Vajra-guardians.
唐僧取袈裟披起,拜畢金身,方入。
唐僧取袈裟披起,拜毕金身,方入。
Tripitaka took out his kāṣāya, put it on, made his obeisance to the golden image, and only then went in.
袈裟, the kāṣāya robe; 金身, the golden Buddha-image.
眾僧叫:「看家的。」
众僧叫:「看家的。」
The monks called: “You there who keep the house.”
看家的: 看 = kān, “to keep, watch (the house)” — the tend-sense, not kàn “look.”
老和尚走出來,看見行者,就拜道:「爺爺,你來了?」
老和尚走出来,看见行者,就拜道:「爷爷,你来了?」
An old monk came out, and seeing Pilgrim, bowed at once: “Grandfather, you’ve come?”
看見: here 看 = kàn, “to see.”
總評 Commentary
The dusk entry is staged with the novel’s eye for the fearful ordinary: townsfolk scattering at the mere sight of monks with a horse, the three gate-layers, the sun going down, the golden plaque of the one surviving temple. Two readings of 看 sit a line apart — the caretaker who “keeps the house” (kān) and the same old monk who then “sees” (kàn) Wukong — and his instant recognition, from the recurring dream, carries the prophecy forward into the temple where the pilgrims will pass the night.