飛砂蔽日 The Sand Blots Out the Sun
行者聽說「宰殺」二字,扢蹬蹬腮邊火發,按不住心頭之怒,丟了架子,掄著拳,斜行抅步,望妖魔使個掛面;那怪展長槍,劈手相迎。行者左跳右跳,哄那妖魔;妖魔不知是計,趕離洞口南來。行者即招呼羅漢把金丹砂望妖魔一齊拋下。好砂!正是那:行者听说「宰杀」二字,扢蹬蹬腮边火发,按不住心头之怒,丢了架子,抡着拳,斜行抅步,望妖魔使个挂面;那怪展长枪,劈手相迎。行者左跳右跳,哄那妖魔;妖魔不知是计,赶离洞口南来。行者即招呼罗汉把金丹砂望妖魔一齐抛下。好砂!正是那:
逐句解 Line by line
When Pilgrim heard the two words "be butchered," the fire flared up along his cheeks with a crackling; he could not hold down the anger in his heart, dropped his guard, whirled his fists, went in aslant with hooking steps and threw a face-cover at the fiend — and the monster spread his long spear and met him hand to hand.
The two units are joined at the ;. 扢蹬蹬: 蹬 = dēng in both, mimetic of the flaring. 丟了架子: 了 = le, suffix 子 = zi; 掄著: 著 = zhe; 長槍: 長 = cháng; 相迎: 相 = xiāng. 掛面 and 抅步 are terms of the boxing manuals — a strike across the face and a hooked step.
Pilgrim jumped left and jumped right, drawing the fiend on; and the fiend, not knowing it was a stratagem, chased him away from the cave mouth and southward.
Joined at the ;. Deictic 那妖魔: 那 = nà. 哄 here is "to lure, to draw on" — the manoeuvre the Tathāgata prescribed.
Pilgrim at once called to the arhats to fling the golden cinnabar sand down on the fiend all together.
一齊: 一 sandhis to yì before a second tone. The whole plan of the previous two passages is executed in one sentence.
Fine sand it was! Just this:
The bare interjection 好砂! carries its own terminal and joins forward to the verse tag 正是那: on the same source line — the join rule established at Chapter 51. Deictic 那 = nà in the tag formula.
Like mist, like smoke, at first it spreads and scatters; / thick and dim it settles down to the sky's edge.
散漫: 散 = sǎn, the adjectival "loose, diffuse," not the verb sàn; 似 = sì (GLOBAL_PY). The rhapsody runs on the 麻 rhyme throughout: 涯 差 家 麻 遮 車 拿 華 花.
A blank white haze — everywhere it blinds men's eyes;
到處: 處 = chù. The three-syllable openings 白茫茫 and 昏漠漠 break the seven-syllable run and mark this as a 賦 rather than a regulated poem.
a dull grey murk — flying through it, one loses the road.
找路差: 差 = chà ("to go amiss"), against the chāi of dispatch used four passages ago.
The woodcutter cutting fuel has lost his fellow; / the herb-gathering boy of the immortals cannot find his home.
樵子: suffix 子 = zi; 失了: 了 = le. The couplet is a topos of dust-storm verse, and it does something for the plot too: the sand is indiscriminate, and it is falling on a landscape with people in it.
Fine, it drifts as light as wheat flour; / coarse, it tumbles over like sesame seed.
似芝麻: 似 = sì. Both similes are from the kitchen, and they place the celestial weapon squarely in a Ming household.
The world is dimmed and the mountain tops go dark; / the long sky is drowned and the sun shut out.
長空: 長 = cháng. 迷沒: 沒 = mò ("to sink, to be submerged") — the only token of this reading in the chapter; the other four are the méi of 沒奈何 and 沒有別人.
It is not the clamorous dust that trails a fine horse; / it cannot be called the soft light stuff that lines a scented carriage.
難言: 難 = nán. Two couplets of denial: the poem is at pains to say what this sand is not — not road dust, not the padding of a lady's carriage — before saying what it is.
This sand is by its own nature a thing without feeling; / it blankets earth and curtains heaven, and takes the monster.
無情物 — "a thing without feeling," which in Buddhist usage is the non-sentient, that which has no mind and cannot will. The couplet is the hinge of the rhapsody and the reason it can be used at all.
Only because the fiend encroaches on the true Way / do the arhats, upholding the Law, put forth this splendour.
只為: 為 = wèi, purposive; 豪華: 華 = huá. 阿羅 is 阿羅漢, arhat. The line supplies the justification a Buddhist weapon requires: the violence is answering an encroachment, not initiating one.
In their hands the bright pearls show at once; / in a moment it scours till the eyes swim with flowers.
手中: 中 = zhōng; 刮得: 得 = de, the complement marker. 眼生花 — "flowers before the eyes," the standard idiom for dazzle.
The rhapsody is the third and last set-piece of the chapter, and the only one about an object. It runs on a single 麻 rhyme and spends ten lines making the sand large: mist and smoke, a white blindness, a woodcutter who has lost his fellow, an immortal's herb-boy who cannot find his way home, flour and sesame, the mountains dark, the sun buried. Two of the couplets are denials — this is not road dust behind a fine horse, not the soft stuff lining a scented carriage — as though the poem were warding off the ordinary comparisons before it commits to its own.
The line that matters is 此砂本是無情物: this sand is by nature a thing without feeling. In Buddhist usage the 無情 is the non-sentient, what has no mind and cannot will — and that is precisely the justification for putting it in the hands of arhats, who may not kill. The weapon does the blinding; nobody intends it. It is also, as the reader already suspects, the reason it will be useless. The ring takes objects, and the Tathāgata has just sent eighteen grains of the most impressive object in the chapter.