SIDDHARTHA
An Indian poem
From Hermann Hesse


THE FIRST PART



Romain Rolland to the revered friend dedicated



THE SON OF THE BRAHMIN
In the shade of the house, in the sun of the riverbank to boats, in the shade
of the Salwaldes, in the shade genbaumes grew up Siddhartha, the beautiful
Brahmins, the young falcon, together with his(its) friend,
the Brahmin's son. Sun " browned his(its) bright shoulders in the riverbank,
with the bathes, with the holy washings, with the holy victims.
Shade flowed into his(its) black eyes in the Mangohain,
with the boy's games, with the singing of the mother, with the holy victims,
with the apprenticeships(teaching) of his(its) father, the Ge taught, with the talk of the ways.
Long Siddhartha already participated in the talk of the ways, practiced itself
with Govinda in the speech battle, practiced itself with Govinda in the art
of the consideration, in the service of the engulfment. Already he knew how
to speak silently the Om, the word of the words to speak in it silently in himself
to speak out to the breathe, it silently from himself
with the breathe out, with collected soul, which forehead surround - from the brilliancy
of the clear-thinking spirit. Already he knew how
to know inside of his(its) nature Atman, indestructibly, one with the universe.

Joy jumped in his(its) father's heart about the son,
he saw the docile, the thirsty for knowledge, big ways and priest growing up in him,
a monarch among the Brahmin.
Bliss jumped in his(its) mother Brust if she saw him if they
walk him if she niedersitzen and saw getting up, Siddhartha,
the strong, the beauty, on slim legs to walking,
with perfect queued them(her) to greeting.

Love stirred itself in the heart of the young Brahmin's daughters if
Siddhartha went by the alleys of the city, with the shining forehead,
with the king's eye, with the narrow hips.
However, more than she all loved him Govinda, his(its) friend,
the Brahmin's son. He loved Siddharthas eye and sweet voice, he loved
his(its) way(walk) and the perfect queued his(its) movements, he loved
everything what did Siddhartha and said, and mostly he loved, his(its)
spirit, his(its) high, fiery thoughts, his(its) glowing wills, his(its)
high appeal. Govinda knew: this will become no mean Brahmin,
no rotten victim's employee, no greedy trader
with magic mottoes, nobody eitler, empty speakers, no worse, crafty
priest, and also no good, silly sheep in the herd many.
No, and also he, Govinda, wanted to become no such one, no Brahmin
how there is ten thousand. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the loved,
the delightful. And if Siddhartha became once a God if he
came once to the radiant, Govinda
wanted to follow him, as his(its) friend, as his(its) companion, as his(its) servant, as his(its)
spear porter, his(its) shade.
So all loved the Siddhartha. To all he created joy, to all he was
to the desire.

He, however, Siddhartha, did not create to itself joy, he was not
to the desire.
Nevertheless, changing on rosy because of the coward garden, sitting
in the bluish shade of the grove of the consideration, washing his(its) links(limbs)
in the daily expiation bath, sacrificing in the deep-shady Mangowald,
from perfect queued the gestures, from all loved, all joy, he carried no
joy in the heart. Dreams came to him and restless
thoughts from the water of the river flowed, from the stars
of the night sparkled, from the rays of the sun melted, dreams came
to him and restlessness of the soul, from the victims smoked,
from the verses the Rig-Veda breathed, from the apprenticeships(teaching) of the old Brahmins
let trickle.
Siddhartha had begun to feed dissatisfaction in himself, He
had begun to feel that the love of his(its) father, and the love of his(its)
mother, and also the love of his(its) friend, Govindas, and
make not always happy him for all time, him satisfy, him feed, will be enough for him.
He had begun to anticipate, that his(its) respectable father. And
his(its) other teachers that they Brahmins point to him of their(her) wisdom
most and best already informed that they would have poured their(her) fullness already
in his(its) waiting vessel, and the vessel were not full,
the spirit was not content, the soul was not quiet, the heart not
satisfied. The washings were good, but they were water, they
did not wash sin, they did not cure spirit thirst, they did not solve
anguish of soul. Vor.trefflich were the victims and, however, this was the invocation
of the Gods everything one? The victims Gave luck? And how was
with the Gods? It was, really, Prajapati which has the world
erschaffen? It was not the Atman, He, the single, the alone? If were not
the Gods. Organizations, erschaffen like I and you,
the time subject, passing? Was it good, it was correct, these were
meaningful and highest activities to sacrifice to the Gods? To whom in a different way
was to be sacrificed to whom worship was to be given in a different way than Him, t
he single, the Atman? And where Atman was to be thought where he lived where h
is(its) eternal heart hit, where in a different way than in the own I, in the Innersten, in
the indestructible every carried in itself? But where where this was I,
this Innerste, this last? It was not a meat and leg, it was not a
thinking still consciousness, the Weisesten taught. Where where it was? There to penetrate, to I, to me, to the Atman, gave an
other way to look are worthwhile? Oh and nobody showed this way, nobody knew him, not the father, not the teachers and wa
ys, not the holy victim's singings! They knew everything, the Brahmins and their(her) holy books, they knew everything,
they had taken care of everything and around more than everything, the creation of the world,
the forming of the speech, the food, the Einatmens, the Ausatmens,
the orders of the senses, the acts of the Gods infinitely a lot they knew
- but it was valuable to know this everything one if one did not know one and
single, the most important, the only important?

Certainly, many verses of the holy books, especially in the Upanishaden
of the Samaveda, spoke from this Innersten and last, delightful verses.
" Your soul is the whole world ", stood there written, and
written stood that the person comes in the sleep, in the deep sleep, to his(its)
Innersten and lives in the Atman. Strange wisdom stood
in these verses, everything knowledge the Weisesten stood here in magic
words collected, purely like from bees collected honey. No, was not to be respected
slightly the enormous in knowledge which here
from uncountable lines of weiser Brahmins collected and retained
lag. - But where were the Brahmins, where the priests, where the ways or
the penitents which had succeeded
in living in knowing this the deepest knowledges not only, but? Where the informed, was the Daheimsein
in the Atman from the sleep heruberzauberte in the Wachsein, in the life,
in step and step, in word and act? Siddhartha, his(its) father knew many respectable Brahmins
before all, the pure, the scholars,
the very respectable. Was to be admired his(its) father, quietly and nobly his(its) Gehaben was,
purely a his(its) life, points his(its) word, fine and noble
thoughts lived in his(its) forehead - but also he, he so many knowing,
lived he then in bliss, he had peace, he was not only
a searching, a Durstender? Had he to not always drink and again in holy sources, a being thirsty, in the victim, in the books, in
the change speech of the Brahmins? Why he had to wash, the irreproachable, every day sin, every day strive themselves around cleaning, every day
anew? Atman was not then in him, did not flow then in his(its) own heart the primary source? One had to find him, one
had to have the primary source in the own I, him to own! All other was searches, was a detour, was an aberration.
So were Siddharthas thoughts, this was a his(its) thirst, this his(its) suffering.
Often he recited from a Chandogya-Upanishad for himself the words:
" In truth, the name of the Brahman is true satyam - who knows such,
he goes daily one to the heaven world. " Often she seemed close,
he had completely reached the heaven world, but never them(her), never
the last thirst deleted. And from all ways and Weisesten. He knew and enjoyed their(her) instruction he, from them to all nobody was who
had completely reached them(her), the heaven world which had completely deleted him, eternal thirst.

" Govinda, " spoke Siddhartha to his(its) friend, " Govinda, dear, comes
with me under the Banyanenbaum, we want to be used of the engulfment. "

They(you) went to the Banyanenbaum, they sat down, here Siddhartha,
twenty steps farther Govinda. While he sat down to speak ready,
the Om, repeated Siddhartha murmuring the verse:
Om is a curve, the arrow is a soul,
the Brahman is of the arrow an aim,
one should meet This incessantly.

When the usual time of the engulfment exercise had gone, Govinda rose.
The evening had come, time was
to carry out the washing the evening-doing. He called Siddharthas names. Siddhartha
did not give answer. Siddhartha sat sunk, his(its) eyes stood rigidly
on a very far aim directed, his(its) tip of the tongue protruded a little
between the teeth, he did not seem to breathe. So he sat,
in engulfment wrapped, Om thinking, his(its) soul as an arrow after the Brahman
sent out.
Once Samanas had gone by Siddharthas city, making a pilgrimage ascetics,
three dry, gone out(expired) men(husbands), old still youngly, with dusty and
bloody shoulders, nearly nakedly from the sun does not singe,
from solitude surround, strange and enemy of the world, strangers and thin
jackals in the empire of the people(persons). Behind them here blew hot a smell
of quiet passion, from destroying service, from pitiless
Entselbstung.
In the evening, after the hour(lesson) of the consideration, Siddhartha spoke
to Govinda: " Tomorrow in the early, my friend, will go Siddhartha
to the Samanas. He will become a Samana. "
Govinda paled, because he heard the words and in the unmoved face
of his(its) friend the decision off, undeflectable like the arrow lot-snapped by the curve.
Directly and with the first look recognized Govinda:
Now it begins, now there goes Siddhartha his(its) way, now his(its) destiny begins
to mine sprouted, and with his(its). And he became pale
like a dry banana bowl.

" He called " O Siddhartha, " this will allow your father you? "
Siddhartha looked here like an awaking. Quick as lightning he read
in Govindas, soul, read the fear, read the surrender.

" O Govinda, " he spoke quietly(soft), " we do not want to waste words.
Tomorrow I will begin with daybreak the life the Samanas.
Speech no more of it. "
Siddhartha stepped in the chamber where his(its) father on a meadow(mat) from phloem
sat, and stepped behind his(its) father and it remained stand there, since his(its) father
felt that one stands behind him. If the Brahmin spoke: " you Are it,
Siddhartha? So says to say what you have come. "

If Siddhartha spoke: " with your permission, my father. I have come
to say to you that requires me to leave tomorrow your house
and to go to the ascetics. A Samana is to be become my desire. If my father may not against his(its). "

The Brahmin was silent, and are silent so long that in the small window
the stars walked and changed their(her) figure, before the silence
found an end in the chamber. Mutely and motionless
the son stood with crossed arms, mutely and motionless the father sat on the meadow(mat), and
the stars went in the sky. There spoke the father: " Not it befits
the Brahmin to talk violent and angry words. But indignation
moves my heart. Not I
would like to hear this request for the second time from your mouth. "

Slowly the Brahmin rose, Siddhartha stood mutely with crossed
arms.

" What you wait for? " Asked the father.
If Siddhartha spoke: " You know it. "
Discontentedly there went the father from the chamber, discontentedly he visited his(its) warehouse
and lay down.

After an hour(lesson), because no sleep came to his(its) eyes,
the Brahmin got up, did steps back and forth, stepped from the house.
By the small window of the chamber he looked in, there he saw Siddhartha
standing, with crossed arms, unmad. Palely there gleamed his(its)
bright high garment. Anxiety in the heart, the father returned to his(its) warehouse.


After an hour(lesson), because no sleep came to his(its) eyes,
the Brahmin got up anew, did steps back and forth, stepped before the house,
saw the moon risen. By the window of the chamber he looked
in, there stood Siddhartha, unmad, with crossed arms,
in his(its) bare shins the moonlight shone.
The father his(its) warehouse visited concern in the heart.

And he came again after an hour(lesson), and came again after zweien
hours(lessons), looked through the small window, saw Siddhartha standing, in the moon,
in the starlight, in the darkness. And came again
with every hour, silently, looked in the chamber, saw to the unmad
standing, filled his(its) heart with fury, filled his(its) heart with anxiety,
filled his(its) heart with fearing, it filled with sorrow.

And the last night hour, before the day began, he returned,
stepped in the chamber, saw the youth standing who appeared to him largely and how
foreign(strange).
" Siddhartha, " he spoke, " what you wait for? "
" You know it. "
" You will stand always so and wait, since it becomes a day, afternoon becomes,
evening becomes? "

" I will stand and wait. "
" You will become tired, Siddhartha. "
" I will become tired. "
" You will fall asleep, Siddhartha. "
" I will not fall asleep. "
" You will die, Siddhartha. "
" I will die. "
" And want to die rather, than to your father gehorchen? "
" Siddhartha has always listened to his(its) father. "
" So you want to give up your intention? "
" Siddhartha will do what will say his(its) father to him. "
The first light of the day fell in the chamber. The Brahmin saw that
Siddhartha trembled in the knees quietly(soft). In Siddharthas face he saw
no trembling, from afar there looked the eyes. There the father recognized, that
Siddhartha even now not more with him and in the home the while that
even now he has left him.
The father touched Siddharthas shoulder.
" You become, " he spoke, go " to the forest and a Samana be.
If you have found bliss in the forest, so come and teach me bliss.
If you find disappointment, then return and let us again
together sacrifice to the Gods. Now goes and kisses your mother, says
to her where you go. For me, however, it is a time to go to the river
and to carry out the first washing. "

He took the hand of the shoulder of his(its) son and went out(surpassed).
Siddhartha swayed to the page(side), when he tried to go. He defeated
his(its) links(limbs), bowed to his(its) father and went to the mother
to do how the father had said.

When he
left the still quiet city in the first daylight slowly on solidified legs, rose with the last hut a shade
which was crouched there, and joined the making a pilgrimage - Govinda.
" You have come ", said Siddhartha and smiled.
" I have come, " said Govinda.


With the SAMANAS

In the evening of this day they got the ascetics these the dry Samanas,
and Begleitschaft and - offered to them obedience. They(you) were accepted.

Siddhartha gave his(its) garment to a poor Brahmin on the street.
He carried only the shame bandage and the earth-coloured unsewed
wrap. During the day only once he had never dinner, and cooked. He
fasted fifteen days. He fasted 28 days. The meat
dwindled to him of thighs and cheeks. Hot dreams flickered
from his(its) increased eyes, in his(its) drying fingers grew long
the nails and in the chin he dries, shaggy beard. Icily became his(its)
look if he met women; his(its) mouth twitched contempt if he
went by a city with beautifully dressed people(persons). He saw trader
acting, monarches to the hunt go, victim for their(her) dead persons mourn,
Whore around offer, doctors around sick persons strive themselves, priests the day
for the sowing determine, loving love, mothers their(her) children
satisfy - and everything was not worth the look of his(its) eye, everything lay,
everything stank, everything stank of lie, everything pretended sense and luck and
beauty, and everything was an unacknowledged decomposition. Bitterly
the world tasted. Torture was the life.

An aim stood before Siddhartha, a single one: become empty, empty
from thirst, empty from wish, empty from dream, empty from joy and sorrow.
From himself die off not be any more I
to find emptied Herzens peace, to be open in the entselbsteten thinking to the miracle, this was
a his(its) aim. If everything I had died overcome and if every addiction and every desire(drive) was silent in the heart, the last
had to awake, the Innerste in the nature which is not any more I, the big secret.

Silently Siddhartha stood in the vertical sunburn, annealing
before pain, annealing before thirst, and stood, since he did not feel pain still thirst
any more. Silently he stood in the rainy season, from his(its) hair
troff the water about freezing shoulders, about freezing hips and
legs, and the penitent stood, to shoulders and legs did not freeze any more,
since they were silent, since they were quiet. Silently he crouched
in the Dorngerank, from the burning skin the blood, from boils
the pus dripped, and Siddhartha stayed rigidly, stayed motionless, since no more
blood flowed, since nothing more stung, since nothing more burned.
Siddhartha sat direct and learned to save the breath,
learned to manage with little breath, learned the breath to put down. He learned, with the breath
beginning, calm his(its) heartbeat,
learned to decrease the blows of his(its) Herzens, since these were a few and almost nobody more.

From the oldest the Samanas informs, Siddhartha Entselbstung practiced, practiced
engulfment, after new Samanaregeln. A heron flew
about the bamboo forest - and Siddhartha took(accepted) the heron in his(its) soul, flew
about forest and Gebirg, was herons, ate fish, starved heron hunger,
spoke Reihergekrachz, died heron death. A dead jackal lay
on the sandy bank, and Siddharthas soul slipped in the body in, was
dead jackal, lay with the runs aground, swelled, stank, rotted, became
from hyenas zerstuckt, was skinned by vultures, became skeleton, became a dust,
blew in the Gefild. And Siddharthas soul returned, had died, had rotted,
was sprayed, had tasted the cloudy intoxication of the cycle(blood circulation),
waited in new thirst like a hunter for the gap where
from the cycle(blood circulation) was to be escaped, where the end of the causes where eternity without sorrow
would begin. He killed his(its) senses, he killed his(its) recollection,
he slipped of his(its) I in thousand foreign(strange) organizations, was an animal,
was a carrion, was a stone, was a wood, was a water, and found itself every time
awaking, sun appeared or was a moon, swung again I,
felt in the cycle(blood circulation), overcame thirst, felt the thirst, new thirst.
A lot learned Siddhartha with the Samanas, many ways from I
learned to go away he. He went the way the Entselbstung by the pain,
by voluntary suffering and overcoming the pain,
of the hunger, the thirst, the tiredness. He went the way the Ent selbstung
by meditation, by the empty thinking of the sense of all
images(performances). This and other ways he learned to go, thousand times
he left his(its) I, grant respite long and lasting for days he persevered in
non-I. But, nevertheless, whether also the ways from I hinwegfuhrten, their(her) end
led always back to I. Whether Siddhartha thousand times I escaped, in Nothing stayed, in the animal, in the stone stayed,
inevitably was the return, unescaped cash the hour(lesson), because he found himself,
in the sunshine or in the moonlight, in the shade or
in the rain, and again I and Siddhartha was, and the torture on shot cycle(blood circulation) felt again.

Near him Govinda, his(its) shade lived, went the same ways, underwent
the same efforts. Rarely they spoke other with each other,
than the service and the exercises required. Now and again they went to
zweien by the villages to beg food for themselves and their(her) teachers.

" How you think, once Govinda, " spoke on this begging way
Siddhartha, " how you think, we have got on? Have we reached aims?
"
If answered Govinda: " We have learned, and we learn farther. You
will be a big Samana, Siddhartha. Quickly you have learned every exercise,
the old Samanas have often admired you. Once you w
ill be a holy, o Siddhartha. "

If Siddhartha spoke: it does not want to appear " to Me so, my friend. What
I have learned up to this day with the Samanas which, o Govinda,
I could have learned faster and more simply. In every pub
of a Hurenviertels, my friend, among the coachmen and
dice players could have learned I it. "
If Govinda spoke: " Siddhartha does to itself a joke with me. How
you would have engulfment how you would have to clues of the breath how
you
should have learned unsentimentality against hunger and pain there with these miserable? "

And Siddhartha said quietly(soft), as if he spoke to himself: " What is
an engulfment? What is an abandonment of the body? What is Fast? What is
a Continuous breath? It is a flight before I, it is a short
escape from the torture of the Ichseins, it is a short anaesthesia
against the pain and the Unsinnigkeit of the life.
The ox's driver finds the same flight, the same short anaesthesia in the hostel
if he drinks some bowls sake or gegorene coconut milk. Then
he does not feel his(its) any more, then he does not feel the pains
of the life any more, then he finds short anaesthesia. He finds,
about his(its) bowl with sake dozed off, the same
stay what Siddhartha
and Govinda find if they escape in long exercises from their(her) body in non-I. So it is, o Govinda. "

If Govinda spoke: " So you say, o friend, and, nevertheless, know that Siddhartha
is no ox's driver and a Samana no drunkard. Probably the drunkard finds
anaesthesia, probably he finds short flight and rest, but he
turns back from the mania and, finds everything with the old,
has not become weiser, knowledge has not collected, - has not risen by steps
higher. Kg

And Siddhartha spoke to smile: " I do not know it, I
have never been a drunkard. But the fact that I find only short anaesthesia, Siddhartha, in my exercises and
engulfments and am removed as well far from the wisdom, from the redemption - like as a child in the womb,
I know this, o Govinda, this I know. "
And again another time, because Siddhartha with Govinda left the forest
to beg in the village some food for their(her) brothers and teachers,
began to speak Siddhartha - and sagte:. " How now, o Govinda,
we are fine on the right way? We approach probably the knowledge?
We approach probably the redemption?. Or just we not perhaps
in the circle - we whom we thought to escape, nevertheless, from the cycle(blood circulation)? "

If Govinda spoke: " A lot we have learned, Siddhartha, remains a lot still
to learn. We do not go in the circle, we go upwards, the circle
is a spiral, some step we have already risen. "
If answered Siddhartha: " How old probably, you mean, is our oldest
Samana, our respectable teacher? "

If Govinda spoke: " our oldest may count Perhaps sixty years. "
And Siddhartha: " Sixty years he has become old and has not reached nirvana.
He will become seventy and eighty, and you and I,
we will become as well old and will practice ourselves, and will fast,
and will meditate. But we will not reach nirvana, he
not, we not. O Govinda, I believe, from all Samanas there
is, none becomes perhaps, no nirvana reach. We
find Trostungen, we find anaesthesia, we learn
technical skills, " with which we are wrong. We do not find the essential, however,
the way of the ways. "
" Nevertheless, you
may finish speaking, " Govinda, " did not speak so he frightening words,
Siddhartha! How nobody should then among so a lot of learned
men(husbands), among so much Brahmin, under so a lot of severe and
respectable Samanas, under so many searching, so much intimately best
flissenen, so much holy men(husbands) the way of the ways f inden? "
Siddhartha, however, said with a voice which
contained so many sorrows like mockery, with a quiet one, this to some sad ones,
a little bit derisive voice: " Soon, Govinda, your friend
will leave this path the Samanas to which he has gone so long with you. I stand
thirst, o Govinda, and on this long Samanawege my thirst has become smaller
around nothing. Always I have after knowledge gedurstet,
always I have fully been from questions. I have asked the Brahmins, year after year, and have asked the holy Vedas, year after year, and
have asked the pious Samanas, year after year. Perhaps, o Govinda, i
t would be as well good, it would be as well wise and been as well wholesome
if I had asked the rhinoceros's bird or the chimpanzee. A long time I have needed and am not yet with it at the end to learn this,
o Govinda: the fact that one can learn nothing! There is, I do not believe, indeed, this thing which we name learning '. There is, o my
friend, only a knowledge, this is everywhere, this is Atman, this is in me and in you and in every nature. And so I begin to believe this
knowledge than the Wissenwollen, than the learning has no bad enemy. "
There Govinda stopped on the way, raised the hands and spoke:
" you May, Siddhartha, your friend, nevertheless, with such speeches
do not frighten! Indeed, fear your words arouse in my heart.
And, nevertheless, only thinks: where the holiness of the prayers remained
where the venerableness of the Brahmin's state remained
where the holiness the Samanas
if it as was as you say if there was no learning?! What, o the Siddhartha what would become then from alledem what
is respectable on earths holy, what valuably, what?! "

And Govinda murmured a verse before itself there, a verse
from an Upanishad:

Who immerses itself reflecting, purified spirit, in Atman,
Unspeakably by words is of his(its) Herzens bliss.

However, Siddhartha are silent. He thought of the words which Govinda had said to him,
and thought the words till their(her) end.

Yes, he thought, lowered head standing what remained still rest
from all what seemed holy to us? What remains? What proved see? And he
shook the head.
Once, when both youths had lived about three years with the Samanas
and had divided(shared) their(her) exercises, she reached on
various because of detours a customer, a rumor, a legend: one has appeared,
Gotama named, the elevated, the Bouddha, he
has overcome the sorrow of the world in itself and has brought to the standstill the wheel the Wiedergeburten.
Teaching he goes, from followers surround,
by the country(land), unpropertied, homeless, without woman, in the yellow coat of an ascetic,
but with cheerful forehead, a blessed, and Brahmin and monarch
bent before him and would become his(its) pupils.
This legend, this rumor, this fairy tale sounded on, smelled up, here
and there, in the cities spoke the Brahmins of it, in the forest
the Samanas, again penetrated the name Gotamas, the Bouddha, to the ears
of the youths, in the good and in the bad person(evil), into praise and into invective.

As if in a country(land) the plague rules, and it erliebt itself
the customer, here and there is a man(husband), a Weiser, an informed, which word
and tinge to cure each of the plague to struck, and
how then this customer wears through the country(land) and each speaks of it,
many believe, many doubt, however, many
set off directly to visit to the ways, the helper, the country(land) wore through
this legend, this nice smelling legend of Gotama, the Bouddha, the way
from the gender the Sakya. To him was, there spoke the believers, the highest
knowledge to own, he remembered of his(its) former lifes, he had reached
nirvana and never again returned in the cycle(blood circulation),
never again disappeared in the cloudy current of the organizations. A lot of
delightful and incredible was reported by him, he had done miracle,
had overcome the devil, had spoken to the Gods.
His(its) enemies and unbelieving, however, said, this Gotama is an eitler
seducer, he takes there his(its) days in good living, despises the victims,
is without learning and knows neither exercise nor mortification of the flesh.

Sweetly there sounded the legend of Bouddha, magic smelled from these reports.
The world was ill, difficult was to be endured the life - and see
a source seemed to jump here, here a delivery boy's call seemed to sound,
full of comfort, mildly, noble promises fully. Where
the rumor of the Bouddha erscholl, everywhere in the countries of India pricked the ears
the youths, felt longing, felt Hope nung, and
among the Brahmin's sons of the cities and villages every pilgrim and stranger
was welcome if he brought customer of him, the elevated, the Sakyamuni.

Also to the Samanas in the forest, also to Siddhartha, also to Govinda
the legend had penetrated, slowly, into drop, every drop difficultly
from hope, every drop difficultly from doubt. They(you) spoke a little of it,
because the oldest the Samanas was no friend of this legend. He
had heard that this alleged Bouddha has formerly ascetic and
in the forest had, then, however, to good living and world desire zuruckgewendet,
and he held nothing of this Gotama.
" Once O Siddhartha ", spoke Govinda to his(its) friend. " Today
I was in the village, and a Brahmin invited me to step in his(its) house,
and in his(its) house was a Brahmin's son from Magadha, this has seen
the Bouddha with his(its) own eyes and heard him teaching.
Indeed, there the breath hurt me in the breast, and I thought
with me: if I liked also to experience, nevertheless, nevertheless, we both w
ould also like to hear, Siddhartha and m
e, the hour(lesson), there we the apprenticeship(teaching) from the mouth
this completed! Speak, friend, we do not want to go also there a
nd listen to the apprenticeship(teaching) from the mouth of the Bouddha? "
If Siddhartha spoke: " Always, o Govinda, I had thought, Govinda
would remain with the Samanas, always I had believed, it would have his(its) aim,
sixty and seventy years old to and further the arts
and exercises to float which adorn the Samana. However, see, I
had known Govinda too little, a little I knew about his(its) heart.
Now you want to go, most expensive, a new path hit and
where the Bouddha announces his(its) apprenticeship(teaching). "If Govinda spoke: " to You to laugh popular. Nevertheless, you m
ay laugh, Siddhartha 1 Is not, however, also in you a desire,
a desire awakes to hear this apprenticeship(teaching)? Have and you did not say once to me,
not long more you would go the way the Samanas? "

There laughed Siddhartha, in his(its) way and the sound(clay) of his(its) voice
accepted a shade of sorrow and a shade of mockery, and
said: " Probably, Govinda, probably you hate spoken, correctly you have remembered.
If you may remember, nevertheless, also of the other whom you
have belonged of me that I have become namely suspiciously and tiredly against apprenticeship(teaching) and
learning, and that my believes is smallly to words which
come from teachers to us. But well, dear, I am ready
to hear this apprenticeship(teaching) - although I believe in the heart that we have already cost the best fruit
of this apprenticeship(teaching).
If Govinda spoke: my heart pleases " Your readiness. However, says how
this should be possible? How should the apprenticeship(teaching) of the Gotama, before
we have been revealed them(her) heard, already their(her) best fruit? "
If Siddhartha spoke: " Let this fruit enjoy us and
wait for the other, o Govinda! However, this fruit consists in it we owe even now
to the Gotama, that he from the Samanas hinwegruft! Whether he still has to give us other and better, o friend, on it
keep waiting to us quiet Herzens. "
During this same day Siddhartha to the oldest the Samanas
gave to know his(its) decision that he wanted to leave him. He gave to know him
to the oldest with the politeness and modesty which
befits the younger and pupil. The Samana, however, flew into a rage that
both youths wanted to leave him, and talked according to and needed
coarse insult.

Govinda got a fright and got embarrassed, however, Siddhartha bent
the mouth to Govindas ear and whispered to him: " Now I want to show to the old person
that I have learned something with him. "
While he placed himself near before the Samana, with collected soul,
he caught the look of the old person with his(its) looks, warded off him, made
him mute, did him meekly, subjected him to his(its) will, ordered
to him to do silently what he required of him. The old man(husband) became
mute, his(its) eye became rigid, his(its) will paralysed, his(its) arms hung
down, powerless he had succumbed to Siddharthas Bezauberung. However, Siddharthas
thoughts seized of the Samana, he had to do what
they ordered. And so the old person bowed several times, carried out
blessing gestures, spoke stammering a pious journey wish. And
the youths answered with thanks the bows, answered
the wish, went greeting from dannen.
On the way said Govinda:, 0 Siddhartha, you have learned with the Samanas more,
than I knew. It is difficult, it is very difficult
to enchant an old Samana. Indeed, you would have remained there, you would have soon learned t
o go on the water. "

" I do not desire to go on the water ", said Siddhartha.
" Old Samanas may be content with such arts! "



GOTAMA

In the city of Savathi every child knew the name of the Elevated Bouddha,
and every house was prepared to fill the Younger(later) Gotamas, to the silently
pleading, the bowl of alms. Near with the city there lay
Gotamas the dearest stay, the grove Jetavana which the rich
merchant Anathapindika, a proved admirer of the elevated, to him and
his(its) had done the present.

After this region all stories and answers had pointed
which to the both to young ascetics in search of Gotamas stay
assign became. And because they arrived in Savathi, it was immediately offered to them in the first house before whose door they stopped pleading, food,
and they(she) accepted food, and Siddhartha asked the woman(wife) who handed the food to them:

" Gladly, you charitable, would gladly like to get to know we, where. The Bouddha w
eilt, the most dignified of honour, because we are two Samanas from the forest, and
have come to see him, the completed, and to hear the apprenticeship(teaching) from his(its) mouth. "

If the woman(wife) spoke: " In correct place indeed have descended you here,
your(their) Samanas from the forest. Know, in Jetavana, in the garden
Anathapindikas, weilt the elevated. There you may, pilgrims who
spend night, because enough space(area) is in said place for the innumerable which
flock, around! To hear the apprenticeship(teaching) from his(its) mouth. "
There Govinda was glad, and fully joy he called: " Probably then,
our aim is reached and, however, our way at the end 1 says to us, you mother
of the making a pilgrimage, know you him " the Bouddha, you have seen him with your
eyes? "

If the woman(wife) spoke: I have seen " Many times him, the elevated.
During a lot of days I have seen him how he goes by the alleys,
silently, in the yellow coat how he
presents his(its) bowl of alms silently in the entry doors how he carries the filled bowl from dannen. "

Delighted there listened Govinda and wanted to ask still a lot and hear.
But Siddhartha urged in order to go on. They(you) said Thanks and went
and hardly needed to ask for the way, because few pilgrims
and also monks from Gotamas community were not after the Jetavana,
on the way. And because they arrived at the night there, was in said place
a constant arrival, to calls and speeches of such which hostel
demanded and agreed. Both Samanas, the life in the forest
lived, found quickly and noiselessly a shelter and rested
there up to morning.
With the stairway of the sun they saw with surprise, what a big crowd,
believers and curious, here had spent the night. Jn to all
because of the delightful grove changed monks in the yellow garment,
here under the trees they sat and there, in consideration sinks - or in the spiritual
talk how a city the shady gardens were to be seen, fully from people(persons), were teeming like bees. The majority of the monks
departed with the AImosenschale to collect food for the luncheon time, single of the day in the city. Also the Bouddha himself, t
he illuminated, was used to do the begging way in the morning.
Siddhar tha saw him, and he recognized him directly, as if
a God had shown to him him. He saw him, a smooth man(husband) in yellow frock,
the bowl of alms in the hand carrying, quietly going along.
" See here! " Siddhartha quietly(soft) said to Govinda. " Here This is
the Bouddha. "

Attentively Govinda looked the monk in the yellow frock, which
seemed to differ in nothing from the hundreds of the monks. And
Govinda also soon recognized: this is it. And they followed on from him
and considered him.

The Bouddha giving of his(its) way and in thought sunk,
his(its) quiet face was sad neither cheerfully nor, it seemed to smile quietly(soft)
inwards. With a hidden smile, quietly, quietly,
a healthy Kinde dissimilarly, the Bouddha did not walk, carried
the garment and set the foot immediately like all his(its) monks, according to exact
rule. But his(its) face and his(its) step, his(its) quietly lowered
look, his(its) quietly hanging down hand, and still every finger in his(its)
quietly hanging down hand spoke peace, spoke perfection,
did not seek, ahmte not, breathed gently in an unverwelklichen peace,
in an unverwelklichen light, an inviolable peace.

So Gotama, the city walked against to collect alms, and
both Samanas recognized him only by the perfection of his(its) peace,
in the silence of his(its) form in which no searches, no wanting,
no copying, no effort were to be recognized, only light and peace.

" Today we will hear the apprenticeship(teaching) from his(its) mouth, " said Govinda.

Siddhartha did not give answer. He was curious a little of the apprenticeship(teaching),
he did not believe that she teaches him new, nevertheless, he had back again,
just as Govinda, and again the content of this Bouddha's apprenticeship
heard, if already from reports of the second and third hand.
But he looked up attentively, Gotamas head, on his(its) shoulders,
on his(its) feet, on his(its) quietly hanging down hand, and appeared to him,
every link(limb) in every finger of this hand was an apprenticeship(teaching), spoke, breathed,
smelled, truth shone. This man(husband), this Bouddha, was truly
till the gesture of his(its) last finger. This man(husband) was holy.
Siddhartha had never revered people(persons) so, he never had
people(persons) as loved as this.

The both followed the Bouddha up to city and returned silently,
because they themselves imagined this day of the food of containing.
They(you) saw Gotama returning, saw him in the circle of his(its)
followers taking the meal - what he ate, would have done no bird fully
and him saw themselves move back in the shade of the mango trees.

In the evening, however, when the heat lay down and everything in the warehouse was alive
and assembled, they heard teaching the Bouddha. They(you) heard
his(its) voice, and also she was completely, was from perfect peace,
was full of peace. Gotama taught the apprenticeship(teaching) of the suffering,
from the origin of the suffering, from the way to the abolition of the
suffering. Quietly his(its) quiet speech flowed
and obviously. Suffering was the life, fully sorrow was
the world, but redemption of the sorrow was found: redemption found who went the way
of the Bouddha. The elevated spoke to gentle, nevertheless firm voice,
taught four main clauses, taught eightfold path, patiently he went
the usual way of the apprenticeship(teaching), the examples, the repetitions,
brightly and quietly floated his(its) voice about the hearing, how a light,
how a starry sky.
As the Bouddha - it had already become a night - his(its) speech concluded(closed), some pilgrims stepped out and asked for admission in the community, took
their(her) refuge to the apprenticeship(teaching). And Gotama took(accepted) them(her), while he spoke: "
Probably you have heard the apprenticeship(teaching), probably she is announced. Steps
then here and walks in holiness to prepare an end for all sorrow. "
See Govinda, the shy stepped also out there, and spoke: " Also I
take my refuge to the elevated and to his(its) apprenticeship(teaching), " and asked
for admission in the ' followers, and it was taken(accepted).
Immediately on it, because the Bouddha had withdrawn to the sleep,
wendete itself Govinda to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: " Siddhartha,
is not entitled to me, ' to you to do a reproach. Both we have belonged
to the elevated, we have heard both the apprenticeship(teaching). Govinda
has belonged the apprenticeship(teaching), he has taken his(its) refuge to her. You, however,
revered, do not want to go then also ' you the path of the redemption?
Want you to hesitate, you want to wait ' still? "
Siddhartha awoke like from a sleep, when he
heard Govindas words. Long he looked in Govindas face. Then he quietly(soft) spoke,
to a voice without mockery: now you have done " Govinda, my friend,
the step, now you have chosen the way. Always, o Govinda, you
have been my friend, always you have gone a step behind me.
Often I have thought: Govinda will not only do also once a step,
without me, from own soul? See, now you have become a man(husband) and choose your way. If you may come to an end him,
o my friend! If you may find redemption! "
Govinda which did not understand yet completely, repeated with a sound(clay)
of impatience his(its) question: " Speak, nevertheless, I ask you, my dear!
Legend to me how it can not be different that also you will take, my learned friend, your refuge to the elevated Bouddha! "

Siddhartha put his(its) hand on the shoulder Govindas: " You have my
blessing misses, o Govinda. I repeat him: if you
may come to an end this way! If you may find redemption! "
At this moment the recognized Govinda that his(its) friend has left him,
and he began to cry.

" Siddhartha! " He called complaining.
Siddhartha spoke friendly to him: " Do not forget, Govinda that you
belong now to the Samanas of the Bouddha! You have canceled home and
parents, canceled origin and property, canceled to your own will,
canceled of the friendship. So it wants the apprenticeship(teaching), it wants
the elevated. So you yourself have it gewollt. Tomorrow, o Govinda, I will leave you. "

Long the friends still walked in the wood, long they lay and did not find
the sleep. And always anew Govinda penetrated into his(its) friend,
he may say to him, why he does not want to take his(its) refuge to Gotamas apprenticeship(teaching)
which mistake then he finds in this apprenticeship(teaching).
Siddhartha, however, rejected him every time and said: " be content,
Govinda! Very well is of the Elevated apprenticeship(teaching) how I should find a mistake in her? "
In the earliest morning went a successor Bouddhas, one of his(its) oldest
monks, by the garden and called all this to himself which
had taken their(her) refuge to the apprenticeship(teaching) as newcomers
to put on the yellow garment to them and to instruct them(her) in the first
apprenticeships(teaching) and obligations of their(her)
state. There Govinda, around armte tore itself away one more time
the friend of his(its) youth and joined to the train of the novices.

Siddhartha, however, walked in thought by the grove.
There Gotama, the elevated met him, and when he
greeted him with respect and the look of the Bouddha was a goodness and silence so fully, the youth Mut touched
and asked the respectable for permission
to speak to him. Silently noded of the Elevated grant.

If Siddhartha spoke: " Yesterday, o of elevated, it was granted to me
to hear your strange apprenticeship(teaching). Together with my friend I came from a distance
to hear the apprenticeship(teaching). And now my friend
will remain with yours, to you he has taken his(its) refuge. However, I enter upon my Pilgerschaft afresh. "
" How it to you popular ", spoke the respectable politely.
" Too boldly is my speech, " continued(left) Siddhartha, " however, I would not like to leave
the elevated without having informed of my thoughts in sincerity him.
Wants the respectable still
to give me a moment hearing? "

Silently there noded the Bouddha grant.
If Siddhartha spoke: " I have first of all admired one, o most
dignified of honour, in your apprenticeship(teaching).
Everything in your apprenticeship(teaching) is clear completely,
is proved; as a perfect, a
s a chain interrupted nowhere and never you show the world as an eternal chain, added
from causes and effects. This is never seen the light so, never so u
nwiderleglich been represented; higher indeed the heart must not hit to every Brahmin
in the body, if he, by your apprenticeship(teaching) through, t
he world seen as a perfect connection, completely, obviously like
a crystal, from the chance dependent, not from Gods dependent. Whether
she well or badly whether the life is in their(her) sorrow or joy,
may remain dahingestellt, it may be perhaps that this is not essential
- but the unity of the world, the connection of all
events, the Umschlossensein of all big and small of the same
current, from the same law of the causes, the Werdens and the death,
this shines brightly from your elevated apprenticeship(teaching), o of perfect. Now,
however, is interrupted, yours same apprenticeship(teaching) after, this unity and logic
of all things, nevertheless, at a place, by a small
gap flows out in this world of the unity something stranger, something new,
something which was not before, and this is not shown and can not be proved
: this is your apprenticeship(teaching) of overcoming the world,
from the redemption.
However, with this small gap, with this small bypassing the whole eternal
and uniform(standardized) world law has broken again
and has lifted. If you may forgive at me if I
pronounce this objection. "

Quietly Gotama had listened to him, coldly.
He spoke to his(its) gentle, with his(its) polite and clear voice now, the perfect: " You
have belonged the apprenticeship(teaching), o Brahmin's son, and probably to
you that you have thought about them(her)
so deeply. You have found a gap in her,
a mistake. If you may farther think about it. Warn yourselves, however, y
ou eager to learn, before the thicket of the opinions and before the quarrel
around words. It has lain with opinions nothing, they m
ay be wise beautifully or uglily, or be foolish, each can cling to them or reject them(her).
The apprenticeship(teaching), however, which you have belonged of me, is no o
pinion, and their(her) aim is not to explain(to express) the world for eager to learn.
Your(their) aim is another; their(her) aim is a redemption of the suffering. This i
s it which Gotama teaches, nothing else. "

" You may not be angry with me, o of elevated, ", said the youth.
" Not to search for quarrel with you, quarrel around words, I have spoken so
to you. You are right indeed, a little has lain with opinions.
However, still let me this one say: no moment
I have doubted you. I have doubted no moment
that you are a Bouddha that you have reached the aim,
the highest after which so many thousand Brahmins and Brahmin's sons
are on the way. You have the redemption, from the death found. She has become to you
from your own search, on your own way,
by thought, by engulfment, by knowledge, by inspiration.
Not she has become to you by apprenticeship(teaching)! And - is my thought, o
elevated - to nobody becomes a redemption to share by apprenticeship(teaching)! You will inform nobody, o
of respectable, in words and by apprenticeship(teaching) and can say
what has happened to you the hour(lesson) of your Erleuchtungt a lot
the apprenticeship(teaching) of the illuminated Bouddha contains, she teaches many
to live righteously to avoid bad person(evil). One, however,
does not contain so clear, the so respectable apprenticeship(teaching): she does not contain the secret of that what the elevated has experienced itself, he only
under the hundred thousands. This is it what I have thought and have recognized, when I
heard the apprenticeship(teaching). This is it, why I continue my journey
- not to search for another, for a better apprenticeship(teaching), because I
know, there is to leave nobody, but to reach all apprenticeships(teaching) and all teachers
and only my aim or to die. Often,
however, I will think of this day, o of elevated, and this hour(lesson), because
my eyes saw a saint. "
The eyes of the Bouddha looked quietly to ground(bottom), quietly in perfect
equanimity his(its) impenetrable face shone.

"
May be your thoughts, " the respectable spoke slowly, " no errors! If you may
come in the aim! However, says to me: have you seen the crowd
of my Samanas, mine a lot of brothers which their(her) refuge
have taken to the apprenticeship(teaching)? And you believe, foreign Samana, you believe that
it was better this all one to leave the apprenticeship(teaching)
and to return in the life of the world and the liking? "

" Far is such a thought of me ", called Siddhartha. " They
may remain all with the apprenticeship(teaching), they may reach their(her) aim!
Is not entitled to me to judge about another life. Only for myself,
for myself only I must judge, I must choose, I must decline.
We search for redemption from I Samanas, o of elevated. If I was now one
of your followers, o of respectable, I fear, it would like to happen to me
that only apparently, only deceitfully mine I would come to the peace and would be released
that it lived on, however, in truth and would be big, because then I
would have the apprenticeship(teaching), would have my succession, would have my love to you, would have done
the community of the monks mine I! "

With half smile, with an unshocked bright and friendliness
Gotama to the stranger saw in the eye and dismissed him
with a hardly visible gesture.
" Wisely you are, o Samana ", there spoke the respectable.
" Wisely you know to talk, my friend. Hats you before too big
cleverness! "

Away the Bouddha walked, and his(its) look and half smile remained
for good in Siddharthas memory dug.

So I still have no one look and smile, sit and
see walking, he thought, so indeed I wish also look and
smile, sit and to be able to walk, so freely, so respectable, so
hidden, so openly, so childish and mysteriously. Looks so indeed
and walks only the person who has penetrated into the Innerste of his(its) Itself.
Probably, also I become mine in the Innerste try to penetrate.

I saw people(persons), thought Siddhartha, a single before which I
had to knock down my eyes. Before nobody more other any more I
want to knock down my eyes, before nobody more. No more apprenticeship(teaching)
will entice me, because of these people(persons) apprenticeship(teaching) has not enticed me.

Has robbed me the Bouddha, Siddhartha thought, he has robbed me,
and more still he has presented me. He has robbed me of my
friend, of that which believed in me and who believes now in him who
was my shade and is now Gotamas shades, Given, however, he has
to me Siddhartha, myself.


AWAKE

When Siddhartha left the grove in which the Bouddha, the perfect,
stayed behind in which Govinda stayed behind, there he felt that
in this grove also his(its) previous life stayed behind behind him and
separated from him. Of this sensation which fulfilled him completely, he
reflected in slow going along. Deeply he reflected how by a deep
water he forgot himself up to the ground(bottom) of this sensation down, till there
where the causes, because causes recognize, appeared to him,
just is thinking, and thereby sensations become only
knowledge and get lost not, but become wesenhaft and
begin to radiate what is in them.

In slow going along thought Siddhartha. He found out that
he has become no more youth, but a man(husband). He
found out that had left him how the snake of their(her) old skin
will leave that did not exist any more in him who
had accompanied him by his(its) whole youth and had belonged to him: the wish,
teacher to have and to hear apprenticeships(teaching).
He had left the last teacher who
had appeared in his(its) way to him, also him, the highest and weisesten
teacher, which to holiest, Bouddha, had had to separate from him,
his(its) apprenticeship(teaching) had not been able to accept.
Slower the thinking went along and asked itself: " What is now
it, however which you had wanted to learn from apprenticeships(teaching) and from teachers, and
what they could not teach who have taught you a lot, you, nevertheless? "
And he found: " I was it whose sense and nature I wanted to learn.
I was it from which I get away whom I wanted to overcome.
However, I could not overcome it, it could only be deceptive,
could flee only from him, hide me only from him. Indeed, no thing in the world has occupied so much my thoughts like this mine I,
this puzzle that I live that I am separated one and from all other a
nd am separated that I am Siddhartha! And about no
thing in the world I know less than about myself, about Siddhartha! "
In slow going along thinking stopped, from this thought grasps(registers),
and directly jumped from this thought another out,
a new thought which was: " The fact that I know nothing about me that
Siddhartha to me has remained so strange and unknown, this comes
from a cause, a single one: I had fear of me, I was
on the run before me! Atman looked, I, Brahman looked I, I
was determined to peel mine I to zerstucken and separated
to find the core of all bowls in his(its) unknown Innersten,
the Atman, the life, the godlike, the last.
Besides, however, I myself got lost to me. "

Siddhartha broke the eyes and saw around himself, a smile fulfilled
his(its) face, and a deep feeling of awaking from long dreams
flowed through him till the toes. And directly he ran again, ran
rapidly, how a man(husband) who knows what he has to do.

" O, " he thought drawing a deep breath with deep breath, " now I do not want to let me
the Siddhartha any more escape! No more I want to begin my
thinking and my life with Atman and with the sorrow of the world.
I do not want to commit suicide any more and zerstucken to find a secret behind the ruins.
Not yoga-Veda should teach more me, still A
tharva-Veda, still the ascetics, still any apprenticeship(teaching). With me
I want to learn, I want to be a pupil, I w
ant to get to know myself, the secret Siddhartha. "

He looked around himself, as if he saw for the first time the world. Beautifully, was
the world, in different colours was the world, strangely and mysteriously was the world!
Here was Blue, here was yellow, here was Green, sky flowed and river,
forest stared and Gebirg, everything beautifully, everything full of puzzle and magically,
and in the midst of him, Siddhartha, the awaking,
on the way to itself. All this, all this yellow and Blue, river and forest, entered for the first time
through the eye into Siddhartha, was not any more magic Maras,
was not more veil Maya, was not more senseless and
accidental variety appearance world, despicably deeply
thinking Brahmin who disdains the variety which searches for the unity.
Blue was Blue, river was a river, and even if in the Blue and river
in Siddhartha One and godlike lived hidden, it
was to be been, nevertheless,
just of the Godlike sort and sense, here a yellow, here Blue, there sky,
there forest and here Siddhartha. Sense and nature
was not somewhere behind the things, they were in them, in all.
" How I am deaf and been blunt! " Thought of the rapidly there ch
anging. " If one reads a writing for whose sense he wants to search, h
e despises not the marks and letters and she names de
ception, chance and worthless bowl, but he reads them(her), he s
tudies and loves them(her), letter around letter. I, however, who wa
nted to read the book of the world and the book of my own nature I, I h
ave despised, to a sense supposed in advance for the sake of, which mark and le
tter, I named the world of the appearances deception, n
amed my eye and my tongue(sole) worthless appearances accidental. No,
this is past, I have awoken, indeed, I h
ave awoken and today only have born. "
While Siddhartha this thought thought, he stopped once again,
suddenly, as if a snake lay before him on the way.

Since suddenly this had also become clear to him: He who w
as, indeed, like an awoken or newborn child, he had to begin his(its) life again and
completely from the front. When he had left the grove J
etavana, the grove of this elevated in this same morning, already awaking, a
lready on the way to itself, there it had been his(its) intention and had appeared to
him naturally and natural that he re
turns, a
fter the years of his(its) Asketentums, in his(its) home and to his(its)
father. Now, however, only at this moment, because he stopped,
as if there lay a snake on his(its) way, he also awoke to
this realization: " I am not any more which was I, I a
m not any more an ascetic, I am not any more a priest, I am not any more a Brahmin. Wh
at then I should do at home and with my father? Study? T
o victims? The engulfment maintain? This everything one is past, this ev
erything one does not lie any more with my way. "

Motionless there stopped Siddhartha, and a moment and breath
long there froze his(its) heart, he felt it in the breast inside freeze like
a small animal, a bird or a hare, when he saw how alone he
is. For years he had been homeless and had not felt it.
Now he felt it. Still, also in the farthest engulfment, he
had been of his(its) father's son, Brahmin had been, high state,
a mental. Now he was only Siddhartha, the awoken, otherwise
nothing more. Deeply so-called he the breath one, and a moment froze he
and shuddered. Nobody was as alone as he. No noble, which
not to the nobility, no craftsman who did not belong to the craftsmen
and found refuge with them, their(her) life divided(shared), their(her) language
spoke. No Brahmin who did not belong to the Brahmins and
lived with them, no ascetic, which not in the state the Samanas his(its)
refuge found, and also the lost hermit in the forest none
was alone and, affiliation also surrounded him, also he belonged
to a state which was a home to him. Govinda had become a monk, and
thousand monks were his(its) brothers, carried his(its) dress, believed his(its)
belief, spoke his(its) language. He, however, the Siddhartha where he
Was associated? Of whom life he would share? Of whom language he
would speak?

From this moment, where the world around from him wegschmolz where he
only stood like a star in the sky, from this moment
of a cold and despondency Siddhartha dived up, more I than before,
firmer made into a ball. He felt: this had been the last shudder of the Erwachens,
the last cramp of the birth. And directly he stepped out again,
did not begin to go rapidly and impatiently, any more home,
not more to the father, no more back.



THE SECOND PART - Wilhelm Gundert

To my cousin in Japan dedicated


KAMALA

Siddhartha learned new on every step of his(its) way, because the world was transformed,
and his(its) heart was enchanted. He saw the sun
about the forest mountains rising and about the far palm beach set(decline). He
saw at night in the sky the stars ordered, and the sickle moon like
a boat in the blue swimming. He saw trees, stars, animals, clouds,
rainbows, rocks, herbs, flowers, brook and river, dew flash
in the morgendIichen bushes, far high mountains blue and palely, birds
sang and bees, wind blew silver in the Reisfelde. This everything,
tausendfalt and in different colours, had always been there, sun and moon had always appeared,
always rivers rushed and bees hummed, but it t
his was determined in the earlier times for Siddhartha everything one nothing as
a quick and deceitful veil with his(its) eye, with distrust c
onsiders, to
be destroyed by the thought durchdrungen and, because these were not
natures, because the nature lay beyond the visibility.
Now stayed, however his(its) released eye life on earth(on this side), it saw and r
ecognized the visibility, searched for home in this world,
did not search for the nature, aimed in nobody On the other side. Beautifully was the world if one c
onsidered them(her) so, so without searches, so simply, so kinderhaft. Beautifully was
moon and stars, beautifully was brook and bank, forest and cliff, goat and r
ose chafer, flower and butterfly. Beautifully and lovely it was,
so to go by the world, so childish, so awakes, so to the close op
ened, so without distrust. In a different way the sun on the head burned, i
n a different way the forest shade cooled, in a different way brook and cistern tasted, in
a different way pumpkin and banana. Shortly were the days, shortly the nights, every h
our(lesson) fled quickly away like a sail on the sea, under the sail a
ship fully from treasures, fully from joys. Siddhartha saw a
female monkey people walking in the high forest vault, high in the Browsed, and heard hi
s(its) wild, greedy singing. S
iddhartha saw a ram pursuing a sheep and mate. He saw
hunting the pike in the evening hunger in Schilfsee, before him the young
fish shot up here full of fear, fluttering and
flashing in crowds from the water, force and
passion smelled urgently from the hasty water stirs which
went of the impetuous hunting.
All this one had been, and he had not seen it; he had not taken part.
Now he took part, he belonged to it. By his(its)
eye ran light and shade, by his(its) heart ran star and moon.
Siddhartha remembered on the way also everything of that what he had experienced
in the garden Jetavana, the apprenticeship(teaching) which he belongs there,
of the godlike Bouddha, the farewell of Govinda, the talk
with the elevated. Of his(its) own words which smelled he to the elevated gesp
had, he remembered again, every word, and with surprise
he became aware of that that he had said there things which he did not know at that time at all
actually. What he had said to Gotama: be,
the Bouddha, treasure and secret is not not the apprenticeship(teaching), but
the unspeakable and teachable which he has experienced once at the moment of his(its)
inspiration - this was just to experience what now he
departed to experience what now he began. Now he
had to experience himself. Probably he had known for a long time that his(its) is Atman,
from the same eternal nature like Brahman. But he had never really found this Himself b
ecause he had wanted to catch it with the net of the thought.
If the body also was not certainly this and not to spin t
he game of the senses, it was not to be pulled, nevertheless, also the thinking, not t
he raison, not the learned wisdom, not the learned art, en
ds and from already meant new thoughts. N
o, also this thought world was still life on earth(on this side), and it led to
no aim if one killed the accidental I of the senses, for it, however,
the accidental I fattened of the thoughts and learning. Both, th
e thoughts like the senses, were beautiful things, behind both lay t
he last sense hidden, both were considered(applied) of hearing of playing with both of
despising both neither nor of overestimating, from both the secret v
oices of the Innersten to erlauschen. He wanted to strive for nothing to
strive as for what the voice to him befohle, with nothing stay, a
s where the voice riete. Why Gotama was once, the hour(lesson) of
the hours(lessons), under the Bo-tree niedergesessen where the inspiration met him?
He had belonged a voice, a voice in own heart which
ordered to him, under this tree rest does look, and he
did not have mortification of the flesh, victims, bath or prayer, dinner still Do not drink, not
sleep still dream preferred, he had listened of the voice. So not to be so ready to
gehorchen, au?erm order, only of the voice, this wa
s good, this was necessary, nothing else was necessary.

At the night, because he
slept in the strohernen hut of a ferryman by the river, Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda stood before him,
in a yellow ascetic's garment. Sadly there looked Govinda, sadly he asked:
Why you have left me? There he embraced Govinda, tied(gulped) his(its)
arms round him, and while he pulled him at his(its) breast and kissed, it was
not Govinda more, but a woman, and from the woman's garment poured
a full breast in which lay Siddhartha and drank, sweetly and strongly
the milk of this breast tasted. She tasted of woman and man(husband),
after sun and forest, after animal and flower, after every fruit,
according to every desire. She made drunken and bewu?tlos. - awoke as a Siddhartha,
the pale river gleamed by the door of the hut, and
in the forest a dark owl's call sounded deeply and wohllaut.

When the day began, Siddhartha asked his(its) host
to set the ferryman, him about the river. The ferryman set him on his(its)
bamboo raft about the river, gleamed reddish in the morning light
the wide water.

" This is a beautiful river, " he said to his(its) companion.
" Yes, " said the ferryman, " a very beautiful river, I love him
about everything. Often I have listened to him, often in his(its) eyes seen, and
always I have learned of him. One can learn a lot of(-a lot of,much,a lot) of a river. "
" I danke to you, my benefactor, " spoke Siddhartha, because he
rose on the other bank. I have to give " No guest's present to you to give dear, and
no wage. I am a homeless, a Brahmin's son and
Samana. "

" I saw it probably, " spoke the ferryman, " and I have expected no wage
before you, and no guest's present. You will give me the present
another time. "
" You Believe? " Siddhartha said funnily.
" Certainly. I have also learned this of the river: everything comes again! A
lso you, Samana, will come again. Now probably lives! If your
friendship may be my wage. If you may think mine if you s
acrifice to the Gods. "

Smiling they parted of each other. Smiling Siddhartha was glad
about the friendship and friendliness of the ferryman. " How Govinda
is he, " he thought smiling, " all which I find on my way,
are like Govinda. All are up gratefully, although they themselves would have claim
Thanks. All are obsequious, all may gladly be a friend,
think a little gladly gehorchen. Children are the people(persons). "

In the midday he came by a village. Before the mud huts
children on the alley rolled, played with pumpkin seeds and mussels,
schrien and scuffled, however, fled all shy from the foreign(strange)
Samana. At the end of the village the way led by a brook, and on the edge
of the brook kniete a young woman and washed dresses. When
Siddhartha greeted them(her), she lifted the head, and looked up with smile
to him that he saw flashing the whiteness in their(her) eye. He called
a blessing over how he is usual among travellers, and asked
how wide the way is up to big city still. There stood, they(she) on and
stepped to him here, beautifully their(her) damp mouth gleamed in the young face.
She, exchanged joke speeches with him, asked whether he has already had dinner, a
nd whether it is true that the Samanas slept at night only in the forest
and may have no women(wives) with themselves. Besides, she set their(her) left
foot on his(its) right and did a movement how the woman(wife) does them(her)
if she requests the man(husband) to this sort of the dear pleasure
which the textbooks " the Baumbesteigen " name. Siddhartha felt
his(its) blood erwarmen, and because his(its) dream
occured(fell in) to him at this moment again, he bent over a little to the Weibe down and kissed
with the lips the brown top of their(her) breast. Looking up he saw their(her) face
fully desire smiling and the reduced eyes in longing flehen.


Also Siddhartha felt longing and the source of the gender
moving; because he had never touched a woman, however, he hesitated a
moment, while his(its) hands were already ready to reach for her.
And at this moment he heard, shivering, the voice of
his(its) inside, and the voice said No. There gave way from the smiling f
ace of the young woman(wife) of all magic, he saw nothing more than th
e damp look of a rutting animal female. Friendly he stroked t
heir(her) cheek, addressed from her and disappeared before the disappointed li
ght-footed in the bamboo woods.

During this day he reached before evening a big city, and are glad,
because he desired for people(persons). Long he had lived in the forests,
and the stroherne hut of the ferryman in whom he had slept this
night was since long time the first roof which he
had had about himself.
Before the city, with a beautiful fenced grove,
a small Tro? of servants and attendants met the walking, load with baskets.
In the midst of in a decorated Sanfte, from fours carried,
a woman(wife), the boss sat on red pillows under a multicoloured sun-blind.
Siddhartha stopped with the entrance of the desire grove and watched
the lift, saw the servants, the maids, the baskets, saw the Sanfte,
and the lady saw in the Sanfte. Under high-piled up black hair
he saw a very bright, very delicate, very wise face, light red
mouth like a freshly broken open fig, eyebrows maintained and
painted in high curve, dark eyes wisely and watchfully, bright high
neck from green and gold Oberkleide rising, resting bright hands
long and narrowly with wide circlets of gold about the joints.

Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was, and his(its) heart laughed. Deeply
he bowed, when the Sanfte came close, and again
raising he looked in the bright sweet face, read
a moment in the wise hochuberwolbten eyes, breathed a breath
of smell which he did not know. Smiling there noded the beautiful woman(wife),
a moment, and disappeared in the grove, and behind her the servants.

So betrete I this city, thought Siddhartha, under a sweet
mark. It pulled him to step immediately in the grove, but he roofed
himself, and now only became to him conscious how him the servants and maids
in the entrance had considered, how despicably, how suspiciously, how
unfriendly.
Still I am a Samana, he thought, still, an ascetic and beggar.
Not so I will be allowed to remain, so in the grove do not step. And
he laughed.
He asked the next people(persons) who came of the way, for the grove and
for the name of this woman(wife), and found out that this was the grove the Kamala,
the famous courtesan, and that she
possessed a house in the city out of the grove.

Then he entered into the city. Now he had an aim.
His(its) aim pursuing, let itself he from the city einschlurfen, floated
in the current of the alleys, stood still on space, rested on stone stairs
by the river. About the evening he made friends
with a barber's assistant, he in the shade of a vault saw to work
which he found again reciting in a temple Vishnus to which he
told of the histories(stories) Vishnu's and the Lakschmi. With the boats
by the river he slept the night, and early in the morning, before the first customers
came to his(its) shop, he can be shaved from the barber's assistant the beard
and cut the hair, the hair comb and with fine one oils
anoint. Then he went swimming in the river.

When in the late afternoon the beautiful Kamala in the Sanfte
approached their(her) grove, Siddhartha, verbeugte stood in the entrance and received
the greeting of the courtesan.
He waved to that servant however who went finally in the course of, and asked
him to announce to the boss that a young Brahmin
desires to speak to her. In a while the servant came back, asked
the waiting to follow him, led to him to followers
silently in a pavilion where Kamala on a Ruhebette lay, and
only left him with her.

" You have not stood yesterday already there outside and have greeted me?
" Asked Kamala.

" Yesterday Probably I have already seen you and have greeted. "
" However, you did not carry yesterday a beard, and long hair, and dust
in the hair? "

" Probably you have observed, you have seen everything. You have seen Siddhartha,
the Brahmin's son who has left his(its) home
to become a Samana and during three years a Samana has been. Now,
however, I have left this path, and came to this city, and
the first one which still met me before the entrance of the city, was you.
To say this, I have come to you, o Kamala! You are the first
woman(wife) to which Siddhartha
talks in a different way than with knocked down eyes. I want never again to knock down my eyes if a beautiful
woman(wife) meets me. "
Kamala smiled and played with their(her) field(compartments) from peacock feathers. And
asked: " And to say this only in order to me, Siddhartha has come to me?
"
" To say this to you, and to owe you that you are so beautiful.
And if it to you mi?fallt, Kamala, I did not like to ask you to be my
friend and teacher, because I still know nothing about the art
in which you are a champion. "

There Kamala laughed according to.
" Has never happened to me, the friend that a Samana from the forest
came to me and wanted to learn from me! Has never happened to me that
a Samana with long hair and in an old torn shame cloth
to me came! Many youths come to me, and also Brahmin's sons are
under it, but they come in beautiful dresses, they come in fine
shoes, they have pleasant aroma in the hair and money, in the bags. So,
you Samana, are the youths procure who come to me. "
If Siddhartha spoke: " Already I start learning from you. Also
yesterday already I have learned. Already I have filed the beard,
the hair has combed, oil has in the hair. A few is which I still
lack, you splendid: fine dresses, fine shoes, money in the bag.
Know, more difficult has planed for Siddhartha, when such
little things are, and it has reached. How I
should not reach what I have carried out yesterday to me: your friend to be
and to learn the joys of the love of you! You will see me docilely,
I have learned Kamala, more difficult, when what you should teach me.
And now: Siddhartha is not enough for you, as well as he is,
with oil in the hair, but without dresses, without shoes, without money? "
Laughing Kamala called: " No, worth, he is not enough yet.
He must have dresses, beautiful dresses, and shoes, beautiful shoes, and a lot of money
in the bag, and presents for Kamala. Kn how it now, Samana
from the forest? Have you noticed it to you? "

" Probably I have noticed it to me, " called Siddhartha. " How I should not notice to me
what comes from such a mouth! Your mouth is like
a freshly broken open fig, Kamala. Also my mouth is red and
fresh, he will fit to yours, you become sehen. - But says, beautiful
Kamala, you have no fear of the Samana from the forest which has come
to learn love? "

" Why I should have then fear of a Samana, to a silly
Samana from the forest which comes from the jackals and does not know at all
what women(wives) are? "
" O, he is strong, the Samana, and he nothing fears. He
could force you, beautiful girl. He could rob of you. He could hurt you.
"
" No, Samana, this I do not fear. Feared one Samana or
a Brahmin, One could come and pack him and to him his(its)
learning, and his(its) Frommigkeit, and his(its) deep sense rob?
No, because they belong to him to own and he gives of it, only what he
wants to give and whom he wants to give. So it is, just(exactly) as well it is also
with Kamala, and with the joys of the love. Beautifully and redly is Kamalas
mouth, but tries to kiss him against Kamalas wills, and
you will have no drop sweet of him who knows how to give so much sweet!
You are docilely, Siddhartha, this also learns:
one can cadge love buy agree given, on the alley
find, but can not rob one of them(her). There you have thought out to you a wrong
way. No, damages it would be if a beautiful youth wanted to attack it like
you so wrongly. "
Siddhartha bowed smiling. It would be " a pitty, Kamala how,
very much you are right! Extremely damages it would be. No, from your mouth
no drop sweet should get lost to me, still to you from
mine! It still thinks: Siddhartha will come again if he
has what he still lacks: dresses, shoes, money. However, speak, sweet
Kamala, you can not give me still a small council(advice)? "

" A council(advice)? Why not? Who did not want to give gladly to a poor,
ignorant Samana which comes from the jackals from the forest,
a council(advice)? "
" Dear Kamala, advises me where I should go that I
find in raschesten these three things? "

Many would like to know " friend, this. You must do what you have learned,
and to you for it money ask, and dresses, and shoes. In a different way
a poor does not come to money. What you can then? "
" I can think. I can wait. I can fast. "
" Nothing, otherwise? "
" Nothing. But, I also can close. Want you
to give me for a poem a kiss? "

I want to do " This if I like your poem. How one says then? "
Siddhartha spoke, after he had reflected a moment,
these verses:

In their(her) shady grove the beautiful Kamala stepped,
In grove entrance stood the brown Samana.
Deeply, because he saw the Lotusblute,
If this bent, smiling thanked Kamala.
Lovelier, there thought the youth than of sacrificing to Gods,
It is lovelier to sacrifice the beautiful Kamala.
According to Kamala smacked in the hands that the gold poor rings sounded.
" Beautifully your verses, brown Samana, and are true, I lose
nothing if I give you a kiss for them(her). "

She pulled him with the eyes to herself, he bent his(its) face on theirs,
and put his(its) mouth on the mouth which was like a freshly broken open
fig. Long Kamala kissed him, and with deep surprise
Siddhartha felt how she taught him how she points was how she controlled him,
him rejected, him lured, and how behind this first
long, a well-ordered, well-being-tested row of kissing stood,
each of other differently which still expected him. Deeply breathing
he stopped, and had been surprised at this moment like a child
at the fullness of the knowledge and learning values which
was revealed with his(its) eyes.

" Very beautifully are your verses, " called Kamala, " if I was rich,
I would give you gold coins for it. But difficultly it will become to you to acquire so much money with verses
how you need. Since you need a lot of money
if you want to be Kamalas friend. "

" How you can kiss, Kamala! " Stammered Siddhartha.
" Yes, this I already can, this is why I also do not lack dresses,
shoes, bracelets and all beautiful things. But what will become from you?
Can you think nothing as fast, seal(write)? "
" I also can the victim's songs, " said Siddhartha, " however, I do not want to sing them(her)
any more. I also can magic mottoes, but I do not want to speak them(her)
any more. I have read the writings - "
" Hold, " interrupted him Kamala. " You can read? And write? "
" Certainly I can. Some can this. "
" Most can not it. Also I can not it. It
is very good that you can read and write, very well.
You will still also be able to need the magic mottoes. "
At this moment there came an attendant run and whispered
to the boss news in the ear.

" I receive visit, " called Kamala. " Hurry and disappears, Siddhartha,
nobody may see you here, this notices to you! Tomorrow I see again you.
"
However, she ordered to the maid
to give a white high garment to the pious Brahmin. Without knowing how to him it happened, Siddhartha
of the maid hinweggezogen saw itself, on detours in a summer-house brought, presents
with a high dress, in the bushes admonishes led and urgently
to lose itself directly unseen from the grove.
Contently he did how to him was called. Of the forest lived,
he brought himself silently from the grove and about the rears. Contently he
returned in the city, the rolled up dress under the arm carrying.
In a hostel where travellers came, he positioned himself to the door,
asked silently for dinner, accepted silently a piece of rice's cake.
Perhaps already tomorrow, he thought, I will ask nobody more for dinner.

Proud flamed up suddenly in him. He was no more Samana, no
more it queued to him to beg. He gave the rice's cake to a dog
and remained without food.
" Simply is the life which one leads in the world here, " thought
Siddhartha. " It has no difficulties. Difficultly everything was, difficultly
and at the end hopelessly, when I was still Samana. Now everything
is light, light like the lessons in kissing which gives me Kamala. I
need dresses and money, otherwise nothing, this are small close aims,
they do not disturb the sleep. "

For a long time he had explored the townhouse Kamalas, there he appeared
during the other day.

" It goes well, " she called to him against. " You are expected with Kamaswami,
he is the richest businessman of this city. If he likes you,
he will take on you. Is wise, brown Samana.
I allowed to tell to him by others of you. Is friendly
to him, he is very much incredibly. However, is not to be given! I do not want th
at you become a his(its) servant, you should become seinesgleichen, o
therwise I am not satisfied with you. Kamaswami starts be
coming comfortable old and. If he likes you, he will entrust you a lot. "

Siddhartha thanked her and laughed, and because she got to know, yesterday he has had dinner
and today nothing, she allowed to bring bread and fruits and
entertained him.
" You have had luck, " she said with the farewell, " a door
around the other opens to you. How this probably comes? You have a magic? "

Siddhartha said: " Yesterday I told to you, I would know how to think,
of waiting and of fasting, you, however, fandest, this are to nothing is useful. However, it
is to many things is useful, Kamala, you will see it. You will see
that the silly Samanas learn a lot of beautiful in the forest and can which
you can not. The day before yesterday I was still a shaggy beggar,
yesterday I have already kissed Kamala, and soon I will be a businessman
and have money and all these things to which you attach importance. "
" Now, " she admitted. " However, like stunde it with you without me? What
you would not be, if Kamala to you hulfe? "

" Dear Kamala, " said Siddhartha and arose high, " as me
to you came to your grove, I did the first step. It was my
intention to learn the love with this most beautiful woman(wife).
I knew about this moment in, because I took the intention, also that I will implement him.
I knew that you would help me, with your
first look in the entrance of the grove I already knew it. "

" If I did not have, however, gewollt? "
" You have gewollt. See, Kamala: If you throw a stone in the water,
he hurries on the fastest way to the reason of the water. So it is
if Siddhartha has an aim, an intention. Siddhartha does
nothing, he waits, he thinks, he fasts, but he goes by the things
of the world through like the stone through the water without doing something
without stirring himself; he is pulled, he can fall. His(its) aim pulls
him at itself, because he lets in nothing in his(its) soul what
could to the aim widerstreben. This is it what has learned Siddhartha with the Samanas.
It is this what the gates magic name and from what she
mine, it is caused by the demons. Nothing is caused by demons,
there are no demons. Each can do magic, each
can reach his(its) aims if he can think if he can wait if he
can fast. "
Kamala listened to him. She loved his(its) voice, she loved the look
of his(its) eyes.

" Perhaps it is so, " she quietly(soft) said, " how you spriehst, friend.
However, perhaps it also is so that Siddhartha is a beautiful man(husband)
that his(its) look the women(wives) like that therefore the luck
meets him. "

With a kiss Siddhartha said goodbye. " It May so his(its), my
teacher. If you may always like(fall) my look, luck may always meet from you me!
"


WITH THE CHILDREN'S PEOPLE

Siddhartha went to the businessman Kamaswami, in a rich house he was shown,
servants led him between expensive carpets
in a Gemach where he expected house man.
Kamaswami entered, a rapid, smooth man(husband) with strongly
turning grey hair, with very wise, careful eyes,
with a covetous mouth. Friendly greeted themselves man and guest.
" One has said to me, " began the businessman, " that you are a Brahmin,
a scholar that you search, however, for services with a businessman. Have you
become destitute then, the Brahmin that you search for services? "
" No, " said Siddhartha, " I have not become destitute and
have never been in poverty. Know that I come of the Samanas with which I
have lived a long time. "
" If you come of the Samanas how you should not be there in poverty?
Are the Samanas do not completely unpropertied? ",

" Unpropertied I am, " said Siddhartha, " if it is this what you mean.
Certainly I am unpropertied. But I am voluntary,
be not in poverty. "
" What, however, you want to live from, if you are unpropertied? "
" I have never thought of it, man. I have been unpropertied more than three years,
and have never thought of what I should live f
rom. "
" So you have lived from the possession other. "
" Probably it is so. Also the businessman lives from the has other. "
" Probably spoken. But he does not take of the other you free; he
gives them his(its) goods for it. "

" Indeed, so it seems to behave. Each takes, each gives,
is the life. "

" However, allows: if you are unpropertied what you want to give there? "

" Each gives what he has. The warrior gives force,

Businessman gives goods, the teacher Lehre, the farmer Reis, the fisherman
fish. "

" Certainly. And what is it now what you have to give? What is it
which you have learned whom you can? "

" I can think. I can wait. I can fast. "
" This is everything? "
" I believe, it is everything! "
" And what it is useful for? For example, fasting for what it is good? "
" It is very good, man. If a person has to eat nothing, is
Fast the Allerklugste what he can do. If, for example,
Siddhartha do not fast would have learned, he
would have to accept to this day any service, it is with you or where always, because
the hunger would force him to it. So Siddhartha can wait, however, quietly,
he knows no impatience, he knows no emergency, long he
can be besieged from the hunger and can laugh in addition. In addition, man, is
Fast well. "

" You are right, Samana. Control room a moment. "
Kamaswami went out(surpassed) and returned with a roll(role) which he
handed to his(its) guest, while he asked: " you can read this? "

Siddhartha considered the roll(role) in which a purchase endure was written down,
and began to read out their(her) content.

"Splendidly", said Kamaswami. " And you
want to write to me something on this sheet(leaf)? "

He gave him a sheet(leaf) and a stylus, and Siddhartha wrote and returned
the sheet(leaf).

Kamaswami read: " Write is good, thinking is better. Cleverness
is good, patience is better. "

" Excellently you know how to write, " praised the businessman. " Something
we will have to speak still with each other. For today I ask
you, is my guest and take in this house house. "

Siddhartha thanked and accepted, and now lived in the house of the trader.
Dresses were brought him, and
the bath prepared to him shoes, and a servant daily. Two times during the day a plentiful meal
was applied, during the day only once, however, Siddhartha had dinner, and neither
meat had dinner nor drank he wine. Kamaswami told to him of his(its) trade,
showed to him goods and magazines, showed to him calculations. A lot of new got to know
Siddhartha, he heard a lot and spoke a little. And
the words Kamalas mindful, he never submitted, to the businessman,
forced him that he treats him as seinesgleichen, as more then
seinesgleichen. Kamaswami pursued his(its) deals(shops)
with Sorglichkeit and often with passion, however, Siddhartha considered
this took care everything like a game just(exactly) to learn which rules he
whose content did not touch, however, his(its) heart.

Not long he was in Kamaswamis to house, there he already participated in his(its)
house man Handel. Daily, however, by the hour(lesson) she named to him,
he visited the beautiful Kamala, in beautiful dresses, in fine
shoes, and soon he also brought to her presents. Their(her) red, wise mouth taught him a lot.
A lot taught him their(her) delicate,
smooth hand. To him who was still a boy in the love and
inclined to rush blindly and insatiably in the desire like
in the bottomless, taught them(her) entirely the apprenticeship(teaching) that one desire
do not give can, without desire, and that every gesture, every
stroking, every touch, every sight, every smallest place
of the body has their(her) secret to wake this to the Knowing luck prepares.
She taught him that loving may not go after a dear celebration of each other
without admiring the other one
without being defeated as well from having won how, so that appears at none of both
supersaturations and Ode and the bad feeling,
to have abused or to have been abused. He spent strange hours(lessons)
with the beautiful and wise artist, became their(her) pupil, their(her)
lover, their(her) friend. Here with Kamala the value and sense of his(its) current life lay,
not in the trade of the Kamaswami.
The businessman transferred to him the letter of important letters and contracts,
and got used to discuss(to consult) all important affairs with him.
He soon saw that Siddhartha of rice and wool,
from navigation and trade understood a little that, however, his(its) hand
was a happy one, and that Siddhartha him, the businessman, excelled in peace
and equanimity, and in the art of the Zuhorenkonnens and penetration
in foreign(strange) people(persons). " This Brahmin, " said he to a friend, " is
no correct businessman and will never become one, his(its) soul with passion never is b
y the deals(shops). But he has the secret of these pe
ople(persons) to whom the success from comes, is now a
n innate good star, these are magic, it is something which he has learned wi
th the Samanas. Always he appears with the deals(shops) only p
ass, they completely never come into him, they never control him, he
never fears failure, a loss never afflicts him. "

The friend advised the trader: " Give him of the deals(shops) which he
drives for you, a third of the profit, also, however, let him meet the same
interest of the loss if loss appears. So he
will become more eager. "

Kamaswami followed the council(advice). Siddhartha, however, took care a little of it.
If profit met him, he accepted him even-tempered; if loss met him,
he laughed and said: see " egg, this has badly gone! "
Indeed, it seemed, as if the deals(shops) to him are indifferent.
Once he travelled in a village to buy out there a big rice's harvest.
When he arrived, however, the rice was already sold to another trader.
Siddhartha, nevertheless, remained some days in this village,
entertained the farmers, gave to their(her) Children's copper coins, celebrated a
wedding with and came back extremely contently from the journey.
Kamaswami reproached him that he has not turned back immediately t
hat he has wasted time and money. Siddhartha answered: " Leave
the scoldings, dear friend! Has never a little bit been reached with scoldings.
If loss has appeared, let me carry the loss. I
am very satisfied with this journey. I have got to know various people(persons),
a Brahmin has become my friend, children
have ridden on my knees, farmers have shown to me their(her) fields, nobody has held m
e for a trader. "

" Very beautifully this is everything, " Kamaswami called discontentedly, "
nevertheless, however, actually you are a trader, I should mine! Have or you t
ravelled then only to your pleasure? "
" Certainly, " laughed Siddhartha, " certainly I have travelled to my pleasure.
For what then, otherwise? I have got to know people(persons) and regions, I
have enjoyed, friendliness and trust(confidence), I have found friendship.
See, dear if I had been Kamaswami, I would be
immediately, when I saw my purchase defeated,
indeed, fully annoyance and in hurry again traveled back, and time and money
would have been lost. So, however, I have had good days, has learned, joy has enjoyed,
has damaged neither me nor other by annoyance and
by hastiness. And if I come ever again there,
perhaps to buy a later harvest or for which purpose it
is, friendly people(persons) me will be friendly and conceive cheerful(bright),
and I will praise myself for the fact that at that time I have not shown hurry
and annoyance. Also allow to be good, friend, and does not damage to you
by scoldings! If the day comes in which you will see:
Damage brings me this Siddhartha, then speak a word, and
Siddhartha will go of his(its) ways. Till there, however, let to us one
be satisfied with the other. "
In vain were also the attempts of the businessman
to convince Siddhartha that be he, Kamaswamis, bread has dinner. Siddhartha ate his(its)
eignes bread, rather they both ate the bread other, the bread all. S
iddhartha never had an ear for Kamaswamis concerns, and Kamaswami
did to itself many concerns. If a deal(shop) was afoot m
enaced which failure, a consignment of goods seemed lost,
a debtor did not seem to be able to pay, Kamaswami c
ould never convince his(its) assistant that it is useful to lose words of the grief or
the fury, to have folds on the forehead,
to sleep badly. When reproached him with Kamaswami once, he has learned everything what he u
nderstands, from him, he gave to the answer: " Wool me, nevertheless, do not have
with such fun to the best! From you I
have learned how much a basket fully costs fish, and how much interest one
can demand for lent money. These are your sciences. I have not learned thinking
with you, expensive Kamaswami, it
tries to learn rather you of me. "

Indeed, his(its) soul was not with the trade. The deals(shops) were good
to bring money for Kamala in him, and they brought far more,
than he needed. Incidentally Siddharthas participation and curiosity was foreign(strange)
only with the people(persons), which deals(shops), professions, concerns,
amusements and follies to him earlier and had been far
like the moon. So easily he succeeded in speaking to all
in living with all in learning from all, so much, nevertheless, became to him conscious
that something is what separates him from them, and this separating was a his(its)
Samanatum. He saw the people(persons) in a childish or tierhafte sort
living which he loved at the same time and also despised. He saw himself them(her)
striving itself, she saw suffering and gray become around things which
appeared to him of this price quite unworth, around money, around small desire, around small honour,
he saw them(her) each other scoldings and offend, he saw them(her)
wail pains at which the Samana smiles, and suffer under hardships
which does not feel a Samana.
He was open to all what these people(persons) to him spent. Welcome
was to him the trader who offered screen(canvas) to the purchase to him, welcome
the indebted which searched for an advance, welcome the beggar, which to him
during 1 hour(lesson) the history(story) of his(its) poverty told, and which
was not twice poorer as every Samana.
He did not treat the rich foreign trader in a different way than the servant who shaved him,
and the street vendor from whom he
can be cheated by the banana purchase around small coin. If Kamaswami came
to him to complain about his(its) concerns
or to reproach him for a deal(shop), h
e listened curiously and cheerful(bright), are surprised at him, tried to understand him,
let him a little be right, a
ppeared just so much as him indispensably, and turned away from him, the next to which
desired him. And it many died to him to trade many with him,
to cheat many around him, to sound out many around him, to call many around his(its)
pity, to hear many around his(its) council(advice). He gave council(advice), he
felt sorry, he gave, he can be cheated a little, and this
whole game and the passion with which all people(persons) pursued this game
occupied his(its) thoughts just as much how once
the Gods and the Brahman had occupied them(her).
At times he sensed, deeply in the breast, a dying, quiet voice,
she urged quietly(soft), complained quietly(soft), hardly that he heard them(her). Then came
to him for an hour(lesson) to the consciousness that he leads a strange life
that he does there of loud things which were only a game that he
is probably cheerful(bright) and feels now and again joy that, however, the real life,
nevertheless, does not touch in him vorbeiflie?e and him. How
a ball player with his(its) balls plays, he played with his(its) d
eals(shops), with the people(persons) of his(its) surroundings, watched them, found
his(its) enjoyment in them; with the heart, with the source of his(its) nature h
e did not take part. The source ran somewhere how far from him, ran and
ran invisibly, nothing more had to do with his(its) life. And
few times he frightened whether such thought and wished, nevertheless, it

may also be given to be given a share to him, with all to the childish
activities of the day with passion and with the heart to live, really
to do, really to enjoy, really and to live i
nstead of standing only so as a spectator besides. Always, however, he came again to the beautiful
Kamala, art of love learned, practiced the cult of the desire with which g
ive more than somewhere and take to one becomes, chatted with her, learned
from her, gave their(her) council(advice), received council(advice). She understood him better, than G
ovinda had understood him once, she was more similar to him.

Once he said to her: " You are like me, you are different
than most people(persons). You are Kamala, nothing Andre(other), and in you inside is
a silence and refuge into which you can come at any time
and be at home with you, as well as also I can it. Few people(persons)
have this, and, nevertheless, all could have it. "
" Not all people(persons) are wise, " said Kamala.
" No, " said Siddhartha, " not in it it lies. Kamaswami
is as well wise as I, and nobody has, nevertheless, to curses in himself. They have Andre
who are small children in raison. Most people(persons), Kamala,
are like a falling sheet(leaf), this blows and turns by the air,
and sways, and reels to ground(bottom). Andre, however, a few are, like
stars, go a firm(fixed) road, no wind reaches them(her), in themselves
they have their(her) law and their(her) road. Among all scholars and
the Samanas their(her,that) I knew many, was one of this sort,
a perfect, can never forget I him. It is this Gotama, t
he elevated, the preacher of this apprenticeship(teaching). Thousand of followers hear every day
his(its). Apprenticeship(teaching), follow every hour(lesson) of his(its) rule, but they all a
re a falling foliage, not in themselves they have apprenticeship(teaching) and law. "

Kamala considered him with smile. " Again you talk of him, "
she said, " you have back again Samana-thought. "

Siddhartha are silent, and they played the game of the love, one
of thirty or forty different games which Kamala knew.
Your(their) body was flexible like he of a Jaguar, and how the curve
of a hunter; who had learned the love of her, was of a lot of liking, a lot of
secrets informed. Long she played with Siddhartha lured him, rejected
him, forced him, reached round him: are glad of his(its) championship,
since he was defeated and exhausts in their(her) page(side) rested.
The Hetare bent over him, saw long in his(its) face, in his(its)
mudgewordenen eyes.

" You are the best loving, " she said thoughtfully, " I have seen.
You are stronger than other, more flexible, willing. Good you
have learned my art, Siddhartha. Once if I am older, I
want to have of you a child. And, nevertheless, dear, you have remained Sam a,
nevertheless, you do not love me, you love no one.
It is not so? "

" It may probably so his(its) ", said Siddhartha tiredly. " Me am like you. Also
you do not love - how you could pursue, otherwise, ' the love as an art?
The people(persons) of our sort can not love perhaps.
The children's people can it; this is their(her) secret. "



SANSARA

A long time Siddhartha had had the life of the world and the liking
without belonging, nevertheless, to him. His(its) senses he had during hot
Samana-years ertotet, had awoken again, he had cost wealth,
lust had cost, power had cost; nevertheless, he
had remained a long time in the heart still a Samana, this had recognized Kamala,
the wise, correctly. Still it was the art of the thinking,
of the waiting, the Fastens by which his(its) life was steered
the people(persons) of the world, the children's people, to him had still remained foreign(strange)
how he was foreign(strange) to them.
The years ran there, in welfare wrapped Siddhartha
hardly felt their(her) dwindling. He had become rich, he possessed for a long time
own house and own servants, and a garden before the city
by the river. The people(persons) had him gladly, they came to him if they
needed money or council(advice), nobody was however close to him, out of Kamala.
This high, bright Wachsein he had experienced once, at the heightof his(its)
youth, during the days after Gotamas Preaches
to hear
teacher, this smooth readiness, the godlike voice in own heart after the
division from Govinda, this stretched expectation, this proud alone stop
without apprenticeships(teaching) and without,

recollection had become gradually, had been passing; once far and
quietly(soft) the holy Quelleg her rushed had been close who had rushed
once in him. A lot, certainly, which he
of the Samanas learned, which he of Gotama learned he had learned of his(its) father,
the Brahmin, had still remained a long time in him: m
oderate life, joy in the thinking, hours(lessons) of the engulfment, secret kn
owledge from, from the eternal I who is not a body still consciousness.
Something of it had remained in him, however, one around the other had sunk an
d had covered itself with dust. H
ow the disc of the potter, once driven, turns still long and
gets tired only slowly and ausschwingt, the wheel of the asceticism, the
wheel of the thinking, the wheel of the distinction had farther swung in Siddharthas soul
long,
still swung, but it swung slowly and hesitating
and was close to the stagnation. Slowly how humidity p
enetrates into the diing tree stump, him fills slowly and rot does,
had penetrated world and slowness into Siddharthas soul, slowly s
he filled his(its) soul, she made difficult, she preserved tiredly, schlaferte them(her).
For it his(its) senses had become alive, a lot they had learned,
a lot get to know.

Siddhartha had learned to drive trade,
to carry out(to exercise) power about people(persons), to enjoy itself with
the Weibe, he had learned to carry beautiful
dresses, to order to servants,
to bathe in fragrant touching down on water. He had learned to have dinner softly and carefully prepared food to

drink also the fish, also meat and bird, spices and sweets, and the wine
which does slowly-acting and forgotten. He ha
d learned to play with cubes and on the Schachbrette, t
o watch dancers, to allow to carry in the Sanfte, to sleep on a soft bed. But
still he had himself from other differently and to
them consider felt, always he had watched them with mockery a little, with
contempt derisive a little, with just this contem
pt how she feels a Samana always for men of the world. If
Kamaswami was sickly if he was annoying if he
felt offended if he was tormented by his(its) businessman's concerns,
Siddhartha had always looked at it with mockery. Slowly and imperceptibly only, w
ith the going along harvest homes and rainy seasons, his(its) mockery
had become more tired, his(its) superiority had become more quiet. Slowly only, b
etween his(its) growing wealth, Siddhartha itself had accepted somewhat
of the sort of the children's people, somewhat of their(her) c
hildishness and from their(her) nervousness. And, nevertheless, he envied them(her),
she envied the more, the more like he became to them. He envied t
hem(her) the One what he lacked and what they had, around the importance
they were able to add(settle) to their(her) life, a
round the passion of their(her) joys and fears, around the anxious however sweet
luck of their(her) eternal being in love. Were fallen in love with himself, with women(wives), in their(her) c
hildren, in honour or money, in plans or hopes
these people(persons) all the time. However, he did not learn this from them, just
this not, this children's joy and children's folly; he learned ge wheel the unpleasant from them
what he himself despised. It
remained a ge Shah much more often that he in the morning after a sociable evening long lie
and felt vaguely and tiredly. It happened that he
became annoyingly and impatiently if stayed long Kamaswami him with his(its) concerns.
It happened that he too laughed according to if he lost in the dice game. H
is(its) face was still wiser and mental than other, but it l
aughed rarely, and accepted one around other these trains which one fi
nds in the face of rich people so frequently, these trains of the UN of satisfaction, o
f the sickliness, the sullenness, the Trag heit, the coldness. Sl
owly seized him the souls disease of the empires.

How a veil, how a thin fog fell tiredness
about Siddhartha, slowly, every day a little close, every month a little
cloudier, every year a little more difficultly. How a new dress
is old with the time, with the time his(its) beautiful color loses, spot
agrees, folds receives, in the hems is pushed off and here and
there sillily, fadige places begins to point, Siddharthas was a new
life which he had begun after his(its) division of Govinda, become old,
it lost with the hinrinnenden years color and brilliancy,
folds and spots on him gathered, and basically hidden,
here and there already uglily hervorblickend, there waited disappointment and
disgust. Siddhartha did not notice it. He noticed only, this bright and
sure voice of his(its) inside which had awoken once in him and him
in his(its) splendid one. Times had always led, had become quiet.


The world had caught him, the desire, the desirability,
the slowness, and finally also still this vice(lorry) which he had despised as
torichteste always mostly and had sneered: the greed.
Finally, also the property, the possession and wealth had caught him,
no more more game and trinkets was to him, had become a chain and weight.
On a strange and cunning way Siddhartha
had got(advised) in this last and schnodeste dependence,
by the dice game. Since then namely, because he had stopped in the heart
being a Samana, Siddhartha began the game around money and
preciousness which he had taken part, otherwise, smiling and casually as a custom
of the children's people
to float with an increasing rage and passion. He was a feared player, a few
ventured it with him, so high and boldly were his(its) applications. He drove
the game from the poverty of his(its) Herzens, losing and squandering
the miserable money created to him an angry joy, in no other
way he could show his(its) contempt of the wealth, the idol
of the businessmen, clearer and scornful. So he played high and
unsparing, hating, mocking,
pocketed thousands, threw away thousands, lost money, gambled away jewellery,
gambled away a country house, regained, lost again.
He loved this fear,
this terrible and oppressive fear he felt during the Wurfelns, during the
Bangens around high applications this fear
and always tried to renew them(her) to increase always,
to tickle much higher, because in this feeling only still he felt some like luck,
some like intoxication, some like raised life in the midst of his(its) fed, t
epid, thread of life.

And after every big loss he reflected on new wealth, followed
more eagerly the trade, forced severer his(its) debtors to the number,
because he wanted to play farther, he wanted to waste farther,
show his(its) contempt farther to the wealth. Siddhartha lost the calmness
with losses, he lost the patience against defaulting payers, lost
the gentleness against beggar, lost the desire to the giving away and
Wegleihen of the money to pleading. He who
lost ten thousand on a throw and laughed in addition, became severer in the trade and more punctiliously,
dreamed at night now and again of money! And so often he
awoke from this ugly Bezauberung, so often he saw his(its) face in the mirror
in the bedroom wall aged and become ugly, so often shame and
disgust him attacked, he fled farther, fled in new game of chance, fled
in anaesthesia of the lust, the wine, and from there back in the desire(drive)
of the Haufens and Erwerbens. In this senseless cycle(blood circulation) he
tired himself tiredly, he tired himself old, tired himself ill.
Once there a dream reminded him. He
had been the hours of the evening with Kamala, in their(her) beautiful
pleasure ground. They(you) had sat under the trees,
in the talk, and Kamala had said thoughtful words,
the words behind which a sorrow and tiredness hid itself.
From Gotama she had asked him to tell, and enough could not hear
from him, how purely his(its) eye, how quietly and beautifully his(its) mouth, how
gentle his(its) smile, how full of peace his(its) way(walk). Long he
had had to tell to her of the elevated Bouddha, and Kamala had sighed,
and had said: Jinst, perhaps soon, I
will also follow this Bouddha. I will give him my pleasure ground, and will take my
refuge to his(its) apprenticeship(teaching). " On it, however she had irritated him,
and had tied up him in the loveplay with painful inspiration in herself,
under bite and under tears, as if she wants one more time from this
eiteln, passing desire the last sweet drop press.
It had never become clear to Siddhartha as strangely, as near the lust to the death is applied.
Then he had lain with their(her) page(side), and Kamalas face
had been close to him, and under their(her) eyes and near their(her)
corners of mouth he had, clearly like still, an anxious writing
read, a writing of fine lines, from quiet furrows,
a writing which reminded of the autumn and of the age how then also
Siddhartha, which stood only in the Vierzigen, already here and
there turned grey hair between his(its) black one had never noted.
Tiredness stood on Kamalas to beautiful face written, tiredness
of the walking of a long way which has no glad aim, tiredness and
beginning withers, and did not conceal, yet said, perhaps
not yet known Bangigkeit: fear of the age, fear
of the autumn, fear of the Sterbenmussen. Sighing he had taken of their(her)
farewell, the soul fully listlessness, and fully concealed
Bangigkeit.
Then Siddhartha had spent the night in his(its) house with dancers
with the wine, had played against his(its) state comrades superior
which he was not any more, a lot of wine had drunk and
lately after midnight had visited his(its) warehouse, tiredly and, nevertheless,
excites which to wines and the despair near, and had searched long in vain
for the sleep, the heart fully of a misery he did not mean to be able (not meane endur) any more,
fully of a disgust, from which he
durchdrungen felt like from the tepid, disgusting taste of the wine,
the too sweet, oden music, too soft smile dancers,
too sweet smell their(her,theirs) hair and breasts. More, however, than first of all
other gave the shivers to him before himself, outside his(its) nice smelling hair,
before the wine smell of his(its) mouth, before the slack tiredness and listlessness
of his(its) skin. As if to get rid itself
of these pleasures, of these habits, this whole senseless life and his(its)
independently one which has had dinner too much or has drunk,
vomits it under tortures again and is glad, nevertheless, of the relief, th
e sleepless wished, in an enormous flood of disgust. On
ly with the light of the morning and
awaking the first bustle on the street before his(its) tow
nhouse he had dozed off, had for few moments a ha
lf anaesthesia, a notion of sleep found. At these mom
ents he had a dream:
Kamala possessed in a gold cage a small rare songbird.
He dreamed of this bird. He dreamed: this bird
had become mute who sang, otherwise, always in the morning hour, and because this
struck him, he stepped before the cage and looked in, the small bird was dead there
and lay rigidly with the ground(bottom). He took out him, weighed him
a moment in the hand and threw away him then, on the alley out,
and at the same moment he got a fright terribly, and the heart hurt him,
so, as if he has thrown with this dead bird all value and all the best
from himself.
From this dream bringing up, he felt
embracing himself from deep sadness. Worthless, appeared to him, worthless and senselessly he had his(its)
life dahingefuhrt; nothing alive, nothing somehow delicious
or best holds-worth had remained to him in hands. Only he stood
and empty, how a shipwrecked on the bank.
Darkly Siddhartha proceeded in a pleasure ground which belonged to him,
the gate closed, sat down under a mango tree, felt
the death in the heart and the horror(grayness) in the breast, sat and sensed how it
died in him, in him wilted, in him came to an end. Gradually he collected
his(its) thoughts, and concerned in mind again the whole way of his(its)
life, from the first days on which he could reflect.
When then he had experienced a luck, a true bliss felt? O,
several times he had experienced such. During the boy's years he had cost it
if he had gained praise he in his(its)
heart of the Brahmins felt: " a way lies before reciting the holy verses,
in the dispute with the scholars, as an assistant had distinguished with the victim. "
There he had felt it in his(its) heart: " a way lies before you to
whom you are appointed, the Gods wait for you. " And again
as a youth, because him the much higher emporfliehende aim of all reflection
from the crowd of same-striving had out and hinangerissen, because he
struggled in pains for the sense of the Brahman, because every reached knowledge
kindled only new thirst in him, there he had back again, in the middle of thirst,
in the middle of hurts this same felt: " Farther! Farther! You
are appointed! " He had heard this voice, when he had left his(its) home
and had chosen the life of the Samana, and again, when he
had gone of the Samanas away to this completed, and also from him away
to the uncertain. How long he had not belonged this voice
any more, how long no more height reached, how just and ode had gone along
his(its) way, many long years, without high aim, without thirst,
without elevation, with small liking contently and, nevertheless, are never content!
All these years he had troubled without knowing independently it, becoming longed, a person like this many and
afterwards how these
children, and, besides, his(its) life was much more miserable and been more poor than
theirs, because their(her) aims were not his(its), still their(her) concerns, t
his whole world of the Kamaswami-people had been to him only a game,
a dance which one watches, a comedy. Only Kamala w
as dear to him, had been valuable for him - but was them(her) still? He needed
them(her) still, or them(her) him? They did not play a game without end?
Necessary to live for it? No, it was not necessary! Sansara called this
game
to play a game for children, a game, perhaps sweetly, once, two times, ten times - but more and more?

There Siddhartha knew that the game was over that he can not play it any more.
A shudder ran to him about the body, in his(its) inside,
he felt, had a little bit died.
This whole day he sat under the mango tree, his(its) father thinking,
Govindas thinking, Gotamas thinking. Had he had to leave this
to become a Kamaswami? He still sat, when the night had begun.
When he saw looking up the stars, he thought:
" Here I sit under my mango tree, in my pleasure ground. " He
smiled a little - it was necessary then, it was correct, it
was not a foolish game, that he a mango tree that he
possessed a garden?

Also with it he concluded(closed), also this died in him. He rose, took
farewell of the mango tree, farewell of the pleasure ground. Because he had remained the day
without food, he felt violent hunger, and thought of his(its)
house in the city, to his(its) Gemach and bed, to the table
with the food. He smiled tiredly, shuddered and took farewell
of these things.

The same night hour Siddhartha left his(its) garden, left
the city and came never again. Long Kamaswami let after him look
whom him in robber's hand like(fall) believed. Kamala did not let after him l
ook. When she found out that Siddhartha has disappeared, she
was not surprised. Had she not always expected it? He was not a
Samana, a without home, a pilgrim? And mostly she had felt this
with the last being together, and she was glad in the middle of pain o
f the loss that she had possessed him this last time still so intimately in their(her) heart
pulled, itself one more time so completely from him, and had felt durchdrungen.


When she received the first news of Siddharthas disappearances,
she stepped in the window where she held in custody a rare songbird in a gold cage.
She opened the door of the cage, took out
the bird and let him fly. Long she looked at him,
the flying bird. She conceived from this day to no more guests,
and their(her) house held closed mind. After some time, however, she became in
that she is pregnant of the last being together with Siddhartha.


BY THE RIVER

Siddhartha walked in the forest, already far from the city, and
nothing knew as one that he was not able to return any more, that this life
how he was enjoyed to the full it now many years long led, past and there and
up to disgust and was sucked out. Deadly the songbird, from was
he dreamed. Deadly the bird was in his(its) heart. Deeply he was involved
in Sansara, he had disgust and death of all pages(sides) in himself
eingesogen how an eponge soaks up water, since he is full. Fully
he was of surfeit, fully from misery, fully from death, nothing more there was
in the world which lure him whom please him who could comfort him.
Ardently he wished to know nothing more about himself, to have peace
to be dead. If a flash came, nevertheless, and killed him! If a tiger came, nevertheless,
and ate him! If there was, nevertheless, a wine, a poison which
brought anaesthesia to him, Forget and sleep, and no more awaking! There was
then still any dirt with which he had not dirtied himself,
a sin and folly, which he not committed, a Seelenode
he had not loaded on himself? Was it still possible then t
o live? Possible to pull breath again and again again,
to expel breath, to feel hunger, to have dinner again,
to sleep again, to lie again with the Weibe? Was this cycle(blood circulation) did
not exhaust for him and was concluded(closed)?
Once Siddhartha got the big river in the forest, to the same river, about
which him, when he was still a young man(husband) and
came from the city of the Gotama, a ferryman had led. By this river
he stopped, stopped hesitating with the bank. Tiredness and hunger
had weakened him, for what also he should go on, where then,
to which aim? No, there were no more aims, there was nothing more
than the deep, sorrowful longing, this whole one waste dream
of himself to shake, to spit this bowls wine of himself, to do an end to this
pitiful and ignominious life.
About the riverbank there hung a tree bent, a coconut tree against whose
trunk(tribe) Siddhartha with the shoulder leaned, put the arm
around the trunk(tribe) and looked in the green water down which went among him and went,
looked down and are completely found from the wish
fulfills to let go itself and to set(to decline) in this water. A horrific em
pty shone to him from the water against which gave the terrible e
mpty in his(its) soul to answer. Yes, he was at the end. Th
ere was nothing more for him, than to extinguish itself, to smash as the failed thing of
his(its) life to throw away it, to high-laughing Gods bef
ore the feet. This was the big vomiting for which he ha
d longed: the death, smashing the form he hated!
If the fish might eat him, this dog of Siddhartha, these insane,
this spoiled and decayed body, these slackened and
abused Seelel might eat the fish and crocodiles him,
the demons might ' him zerstucken!
With distorted vision he stared in the water, saw his(its) face
reflected and vomited afterwards. In deep tiredness he solved the arm
of the tree trunk and turned a little
to let vertically hinabfallen to set(to decline) at last. He sank, with closed eyes,
the death against.
There
a sound twitched from remote districts of his(its) soul, from pasts of
his(its) tired life here. It was a word, a syllable,
which he without thought with babbling voice before itself hinsprach, the old
beginning word and conclusion of all Brahmin prayers, the holy
"OM" which means so much like " the perfect " or " the completion ".
And at the moment, because the sound "Om" Siddharthas ear touched,
his(its) entschlummerter spirit awoke suddenly, and
the folly of his(its) activities recognized.

Siddhartha got a fright deeply. So it stood around him, so he was lost,
so gets lost and from all knowledge leave that he had been able to search for the death
that this wish, this children's wish
had been able to become big in him: to find peace, while he extinguished his(its) body!
What had not caused all torture of these last times, all disillusionment, all
despair, this moment caused this, because
the Orn penetrated into his(its) consciousness: the fact that he
recognized himself in his(its) misery and in his(its) Irrsal.

Om! If he spoke before himself there: Om! And knew around Brahman, knew
around the indestructibility of the life, knew around all godlike again which he
had forgotten.
But this was only a moment, a flash. On the foot of the coconut tree sank down
Siddhartha, from the tiredness - held out, Orn murmuring,
put his(its) head on the root of the tree and sank in deep sleep.
Deeply was his(its) sleep and freely from dreams, since long time he had not known
such a sleep any more. When he awoke after some hours(lessons),
was to him, as if ten years have passed, he heard quiet
flowing out the water, did not know where he is and who has brought him here,
broke the eyes, saw with amazement trees and
skies about himself, and remembered where he would be and how he has come here.
But moreover he needed a long while, and
the last appeared to him like from a veil covered, infinitely
far, infinitely far away lain, infinitely indifferent. He
only knew that he his(its) earlier life (for a moment of the meditation
appeared to him this earlier life like a far dating back, former
embodiment how an early Vorgeburt of his(its) current
is I) - that he
has left his(its) earlier life that he
wanted fully to throw away disgust and misery even his(its) life that he has come, however, by a river,
under a coconut tree, to himself, the holy word Om on the lips, then
entschlummert, and now awakes as a new person
in the world looks. Quietly(soft) he spoke the word Om before himself there a
bout which he had fallen asleep, and his(its) whole long sleep appeared to him
nothing has been as long, sunk Om-Sprechen, a
n Om-thinking, disappearing and complete entering in Om,
in the nameless, perfect.
What was for a strange sleep this, nevertheless, gewes en!
A sleep had never refreshed him so, so again, so rejuvenates! Perhaps
he had really died, had set(declined) and in a new form w
iedergeboren? But no, he knew himself, he knew his(its) hand and
his(its) feet, knew the place with which he lay, this knew I in his(its) b
reast, this Siddhartha, the self-willed, the strange, but
this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed, was renewed, had got a good night's sleep peculiarly,
peculiarly awake, joyfully and curiously.

Siddhartha are directed up, there he saw himself
sitting opposite people(persons), a foreign(strange) man(husband), a monk in yellow garment
with shaved head, in the position of the reflection. He considered
the man(husband) who had neither hair nor beard in itself, and not long
he had considered him, there he recognized in this monk Govinda,
the friend of his(its) youth, Govinda which had taken his(its) refuge to the elevated Bouddha.
Govinda was aged, also he, but still carried
his(its) face the old trains, spoke from eagerness, from faithful, from searches,
from nervousness. When now, however, Govinda, his(its) look feeling,
the eye hit and looked at him, saw Siddhartha that Govinda does not recognize him.
Govinda are glad to find him awake, evidently
he had sat long here and had waited for his(its) awaking, although he
did not know him.
" I have slept, " said Siddhartha. " How bit then you here
come? "

" You have slept, " answered Govinda. " It is not good
to sleep in such places WHERE frequently snakes are and have the animals
of the forest their(her) ways. I, o man, am a follower of the elevated
Gotama, the Bouddha, the Sakyamuni, and have made a pilgrimage with a number the Unsrigen
this way, there I saw you lying and sleep
in a place where it is to be slept dangerously. This is why I tried to wake you,
o man, and because I saw that your sleep was very deep,
I stayed behind behind the Meinigen and sat with you. And then, it seems,
I myself have fallen asleep which wanted to guard your sleep I.
Badly I have provided my service, tiredness has overcome me.
But now, because ' you are awake, let me go, so that I
catch up my brothers. "

" I danke to you, the Samana that you have protected my sleep, " spoke
Siddhartha. " Friendly be your(their) follower of the elevated. Now you
may go then. "
" I go, man. If man may always probably be. "
" I danke to you, Samana. "
Govinda did the mark of the greeting and said: " probably Live. "
" Probably Live, Govinda, " said Siddhartha.
The monk stopped.
" Allow, man, where from knows you my name? "
There smiled Siddhartha.
" I know you, o Govinda, from the hut of your father, and
from the Brahmin's school, and from the victims, and from unsrem way(walk)
to the Samanas, and from this hour(lesson), there you in the grove Jetavdna your refuge
to the elevated nahmest. "

" You are Siddharthal " Govinda called according to. Now I recognize you, and does not understand
any more how I could not recognize you immediately.
Is welcome, Siddhartha, is largely my joy to see again you "
" It also pleases me to see again you. You
have been the guard of my sleep, again danke I to you for it, although I would have needed of no
guard. Where you go, o friend? "
" I Nowhere go. Always we are monks on the way, as long as
rainy season is not, always we go from place to place, live according to the rule,
announce the apprenticeship(teaching), take alms, go farther. Always it is so.
You, however, the Siddhartha where you go? "

If Siddhartha spoke: " Also with me it stands so, friend, how with you.
I go nowhere. I am only on the way. I make a pilgrimage. "

Govinda spoke: " You say: you make a pilgrimage, and I believe you. But
forgive, o Siddhartha, like a pilgrim you do not look. You carry
the dress of empires, you carry the shoes of a distinguished, and
your hair which smells of fragrant water, is not the hair
of a pilgrim, not the hair of a Samanas. "
" Probably, dear, well you have observed, everything sees your sharp eye.
But I have not said to you that I am a Samana. I said:
I make a pilgrimage. And so it is: I make a pilgrimage. "
" You make a pilgrimage, " said Govinda. " However, a few make a pilgrimage
In such dresses, a few in such shoes, a few with such
hair. I have never found who makes a already pilgrimage I many years, such
a pilgrim. "
" I believe it you, my Govinda. But now, today, you have just found s
uch a pilgrim, in such shoes, with such garment.
Remind you, dear: the world of the organizations is passing, p
assing, very passing our garments, and the national costume of our hair, and our hair and bodies are.
I carry t
he dresses of empires, there you have surely seen. I carry them(her), because I
have been a rich, and the hair carries like the men of the world and vo
luptuaries, because one of them I have been. "

" And now, the Siddhartha what you are now? "
" I do not know it, me know it so a little like you. I am on the way.
I was a rich, and it is not any more; and what will be I tomorrow,
I do not know. "
" You have lost your wealth? "
" I have lost myself him, or he. He has got lost to me.
Quickly the wheel of the organizations, Govinda turns. Where is
the Brahmin Siddhartha? Where is the Samana Siddhartha? Where is the Rich(imperial)
Siddhartha? Quickly the passing changes, Govinda, you know it.

Govinda looked the friend of his(its) youth long, doubts in the eye.
On it he greeted him how one greets distinguished, and went of his(its) way.

With smiling face Siddhartha to him gazed after, he loved him
still, this faithful, this nervous. And how he would have, at this moment,
this delightful hour(lesson) after his(its) strange
sleep, durchdrungen from Om, somebody and something
should not love! Just the spell consisted in it which had happened in the sleep
and by the Om in him that he loved everything that he
fully of glad love was to all what he saw. And just in it,
it seemed to him now, he had been very ill before that he had been able to love nothing and
nobody.
With smiling vision Siddhartha to the passing monk gazed after.
The sleep had strengthened him very much, very much, however, the hunger tormented him,
because now he had eaten two days nothing, and long
the time was past, because he had been hardly against the hunger. With grief,
and, nevertheless, also with laugh, he thought of this time. At that time,
he remembered, he had boasted before Kamala of dreier things,
had three noble and insurmountable arts gekonnt:
Fast - waiting - thinking. This had been a his(its) possession,
he had learned his(its) power and
force, his(its) firm rod, during the industrious, hard years of his(its)
youth these three arts, nothing else. And now
they had left him, none of them was more be, not
waitings, not thinking Do not fast. Around the miserable Estonian he had given away them(her),
around the Verganglichste, around SinnenIust, around good living, around wealth! I
ndeed, strangely it had come out to him. And now, it seemed,
now he had really become a children's person.
Siddhartha thought about his(its) position. Difficultly the thinking fell to him,
he had basically no desire in addition, but he forced himself.

Now, he thought, because all these verganglichsten things have slipped out of me again,
now I stand again under the sun how I have stood once
as a small child, nothing is mine, I can nothing,
I am able nothing, I have learned nothing. How this is odd 1
Now where I am not young any more where my hair is gray already half
where the forces to deductions, start now I again from the front and
with the Kinde! Again he had to smile. Yes, strangely was his(its) talent(fate)!
It was down with him, and now he stood again empty and nakedly and
silly in the world. But about that point he could not feel grief, no,
he felt even big incentive to the laugh, to the laugh about himself,
to the laugh about this strange, foolish world.
" Down it is with you! " He said to himself, and laughed in addition,
and how he said it, his(its) look at the river fell, and also he saw the river
going down, always down walk, and, besides, sing and
cheerfully be. He probably liked this, friendly he smiled at the river.
This was not the river in which he itself had would drown
want, once, hundred years ago, or he had dreamed?

Oddly, indeed, was my life, he thought,
it has taken odd detours. As a boy I have to do only with Gods and victims
had. As a youth I have had only with asceticism
to do with thinking and engulfment, was in search of Brahman, revered
the eternal in the Atman. As a young man(husband), however, I followed to the penitents, lived
in the forest, stood heat and frost, learned to starve, taught my body
to die. Strangely met me then in the apprenticeship(teaching) of the big Bouddha
knowledge, I felt knowledge around the unity of the world in me
circle like my own blood. But also from Bouddha and
from the big knowledge I had again away. I went and learned with Kamala
the dear desire, learned with Kamaswami the trade, piled up money, wasted
money, learned to love my stomach, learned to flatter my reflection.
I had to take there many years to lose the spirit,
to forget again the thinking, to forget the unity. It is not so,
as if I am slow and on big detours from a man(husband) a child
become, from a thinker a children's person? And, nevertheless, this way very much is,
been good, and, nevertheless, the bird has not died in my breast.
But what a way was this! I have by so much
stupidity, by so many vice(lorry), by so much error, by so much
disgust and disappointment and misery hindurchgehen must, only to become again
a child and to be able to start again. But it was correct so, m
y heart says Yes in addition, my eyes laugh in addition. I
had had to experience despair, I have hinabsinken must up to t
orichtesten of all thoughts, to the thought of the suicide to be able to experience mercy
to hear again Om t
o be able to sleep again correctly and to be able to awake correctly. I had had to become a gate t
o find Atman again in me. I had had to sin to
be able to live again. Where my way may still lead me? Cr
azily he is, this way, he goes to ribbons, he goes perhaps
in the circle. If he may go how he wants, I want to go him.

Strangely he felt in his(its) breast the joy flowing.
Where from then, he asked his(its) heart, where from you have this cheerfulness?
She comes probably from this long, good sleep which has done good me so much?
Or from the word the Om I pronounced? Or of the fact
that I have escaped that my flight is carried out that I am free at last
again and how a child stands under the sky? O as well
is of this Geflohensein, this Freigewordensein! How purely and beautifully is
here the air to breathe how well!, where I ran away, there
everything smelled of ointment, of spices, after wine, after abundance,
after slowness. How I hated this world of the empires, the bon vivants,
the players! How I have hated myself that I have remained so long in this
terrible world! How I have hated myself, has robbed me,
poisons, tormented, has made me old and bad! No,
never again I become how I did it once so gladly, to me imagine that
Siddhartha points rope this, however I have made good, I like this,
I must praise this that it now an end has with this hate for me,
with this foolish and oden Lebeill I praises you, you have had Siddharta,
after so much years of the folly one more time an idea,
have done something, heard the bird in your breast singing
and are followed him!
So he praised himself, joy had in itself, listened curiously to his(its) stomach
which growled before hunger. Now he had a piece of sorrow, a piece of misery,
he felt, in these last times and days completely
tasted and spat out, up to despair and up to deaths
eaten out. So it was good. Long still he
could have remained with Kamaswami, money acquire, money waste, his(its) belly allow to fatten and
his(its) soul die of thirst, long still he would have in this sanf Len,
well-being-upholstered hell can live, this would not have come:
the moment of the perfect desolation and despair, this
extreme moment, because he hung about the flowing out water and was ready,
itself to destroy. The fact that he had felt this despair, this deepest
disgust, and that he had not succumbed to him that the bird
who was still alive glad source and voice in him, nevertheless, about that point f
elt he this joy, he laughed at it, about that point his(its) face shone
under the turned grey hair.
" It is good, " he thought, " of costting everything of knowing what one
has necessary. The fact that world desire and wealth are not from the good, I
have already learned as a child. I have known it long, I have experienced it o
nly now. And now I know it, it knows not only with the memory,
but with my eyes, with my heart, with my stomach. Probably t
o me that I know it! "

Long he reflected on his(its) conversion, listened to the bird how he
sang with joy. Had this bird did not die in him, he
had not felt his(its) death? No, something else in him had died,
something which had already longed, long for death. It
was not this what he had wanted to kill once during his(its) glowing penitent's years?
It was not his(its) I, his(its) small, anxious and proud I
with whom he had fought so many years which had defeated him again w
ho was after every Abtotung again there, joy forbade, fear
felt? It was not this what had found today at last his(its) death,
here in the forest by this lovely river? It was not of this
death because of that he was now like a child, so fully trust(confidence), so w
ithout fear, so fully joy?

Now also Siddhartha anticipated, why he had fought as a Brahmin, as a penitent in vain
with this I. Too much knowledge had hindered him,
too much holy verses, too many victim's rules, too much mortification of the flesh, too many
activities and striving! Fully arrogance had been he, always the wisest,
always the most eager, always to all around a step in front, always
the knowing and mental, always the priest or way. In this
priesthood, in this arrogance, in this spirituality in
I had crept away his(its) to itself, there it stuck and grew, while he meant to kill it
with fasting and penalty. Now he saw it, and saw that
the secret voice had been right that no teacher could ever have released him.
This is why he had had to go to the world, must lose themselves in desire a
nd power, in woman and money, a trader,
a dice player, drunkard and greedy had had to become, since the priest a
nd Samana was dead in him. This is why he had had farther to endure these ugly
years which endure disgust, the empty, the Sinnlosigkeit o
den and lost life, up to end, up to bittern
despair, since also the voluptuary Siddhartha, the Greedy S
iddhartha could die. He had died, a new Siddhartha
had awoken from the sleep. Also he would become old, once also he w
ould have to die, passing was Siddhartha, passing was every
organization. Today, however, he was young, was a child, the new Siddhartha, a
nd was fully joy.

These thoughts he thought, listened smiling to his(its) stomaches, listened
gratefully to a humming bee. Cheerful(bright) he looked in the flowing out
river, he had never as probably liked(as probably fallen) a water as this, he
had never beautifully heard voice and simile of the going water so strongly and. A
ppeared to him, the river has to say it to him something special, som
ething he does not know yet which still waits for him. In this ri
ver Siddhartha had itself would drown want, tod
ay in him the old, tiredly, desperate Siddhartha had drowned. However, the new Siddhartha a
deep love felt to this flowing out water, and decided wit
h himself not to leave it so soon again.



THE FERRYMAN

By this river I want to remain, Siddhartha thought, it is same
about which I have come once on the way to the children's people,
at that time a friendly ferryman has led me, to him I
want to go, once from his(its) hut from my Wegin a new life led me
who is dead now become old and - also may my current way,
my current new life there his(its) exit take!

Tenderly he looked in the flowing out water, in the transparent Green,
in the kristallenen lines of his(its) drawing rich in secret. He saw bright
pearls from the depth rising, quiet air bubbles on the mirror
swim, sky blueness in it illustrated. With thousand eyes
the river looked him, with green, with white, with kristallnen,
with azure ones. How he loved this water how it delighted him how
he was grateful to him! In the heart he heard the voice speaking which
awoke again, and she said to him: love this water! Remain with him!
Learn from him! O, he wanted to learn from him, he wanted to listen to him.
Who would understand this water and his(its) secrets, appeared to him, he
would also understand a lot of other, many secrets, all secrets.
Today from the secrets of the river, however, he saw only one, this
seized his(its) soul. He saw: this water ran and ran, all the time it ran,
and, nevertheless, was always there,
was always new and allezeit the same and, nevertheless, constantly! O
who took this, this would understand! He understood
and did not take it, felt only notion stirring, far recollection, g
odlike voices.

Siddhartha rose, unbearably driving the hunger became
in his(its) body. Accepted he farther walked, the bank path hinan,
to the current against, listened to the movement, listened to the growling
hunger in his(its) body.

When he reached the ferry, just the boat was ready, and the same
ferryman who had set once the young Samana about the river
stood in the boat, Siddhartha recognized him, also he was strongly aged.


" You want to translate me? " He asked.
The ferryman, is surprised
to see walking a so distinguished man(husband) only and to is based, took him in the boat and pushed off.

You have chosen " a beautiful life to you, " spoke the guest. " Beautifully
it must be to have every day in this water and to go on him. "

Smiling wiegte the rower: " It is beautiful, man, it is how you
say. However, is not every life, every work is not beautiful? "

" It may be fine. However, I envy you around you. "
" Oh you would soon like to lose the desire to her. This is nothing f
or people in fine dresses. "

Siddhartha laughed. " Today Already once I have been considered around my dresses,
with distrust considers. Want you do not to accept,
ferryman, these dresses which are annoying to me, from me? Since
you must know, I have no money to pay a Fahrlohn to you. "

" Man jokes, " laughed the ferryman.
" I do not joke, friend. See, already once you have driven me in your
boat about this water, around heavenly reward. Today so it also does,
and accept my dresses for it. "
" And man wants to travel on without dresses? "
" Oh really I did not want to travel on at all. Really
it would be to me, ferryman if you gave me an old apron and behieltest
me as your assistant with you, rather as your apprentice, because
only I must learn to handle by the boat. "

Long the ferryman looked the stranger, searching.
" Now I recognize you, " at last he said. " Once you have slept in my
hut, long it is, probably more than twenty years
this may be, and have been brought by me about the river, and we
took farewell of each other like good friends. You
were not a Samana? Of yours By the name of I can not remember any more. "
" I call Siddhartha, and I was a Samana, when you have seen me finally.
"

" So is welcome, Siddhartha. I call Vasudeva. " You become,
I hope, also today my guest be and in my hut sleep, and
tell to me, where from you come, and why your beautiful dresses to you
are so annoying. "

They(you) had got in the middle of the river, and Vasudeva lay down
stronger in the rudder. To arrive against the movement. Quietly he worked,
the look on the boat top, with strong arms. Siddhartha sat
and and watched him, and remembered how already once, during this
last day of his(its) Samana-time, love to this man(husband) had stirred in his(its)
heart. Gratefully he accepted Vasudevas invitation. When they
attached on the bank, he helped to him tie the boat in the pegs,
on it the ferryman asked him to step in the hut, bread and water offered him,
and Siddhartha had dinner with desire, and had dinner with desire also
from the Mangofruchten which offered Vasudeva to him.

Then they sat down, it was against sunset,
on a tree trunk on the bank, and Siddhartha told to the ferryman his(its) origin
and his(its) life how he had seen it today, this hour(lesson) of the despair,
with his(its) eyes. To deeply at the night there lasted his(its)
telling.
Vasudeva listened with big attention. He took(accepted) everything listening
in himself, origin and infancy, all the learning, all the searches,
all joy, all poverty. This was one
of the biggest ones under the ferryman's virtues: he understood like a few
listening. Without he would have spoken a word,
the speaking felt how Vasudeva
let in his(its) words in itself, quietly, openly, waiting how he lost of nobody, nobody
expected with impatience, not praise still reprimand besides placed, only listened.
Siddhartha felt which luck is to declare itself to such a listener
to sink own life in his(its) heart, own
searches, own suffering.

By the end of Siddharthas story, however, when he
spoke of the tree by the river, and from his(its) deep case, from the holy Om, and how he
for his(its) slumber such a love to the river had felt,
there listened the ferryman with doubled On merksamkeit, completely and
completely given away, with geschlo?nem eye.
When however Siddhartha was silent, and a long silence had been, there
Vasudeva said: " It is so, as I thought. The river has spoken to you.
Also to you he is a friend, also to you he speaks. This
is good, this is very good. Remain with me, Siddhartha, my friend. Once I
had a woman(wife), their(her) warehouse was near mine, but she has died
for a long time, long I have only lived. Live now you
with me, space(area) and dinner exists for both. "
" I danke to you, " said Siddhartha, " I danke to you and accept.
And also for it danke I to you, the Vasudeva that you have listened to me so well!
Rarely are the people(persons) who understand listening, And
I met nobody who understood it like you. Also in this I will learn of you.
"
" You will learn it, " however, Vasudeva, " did not speak from me.
The river has taught me listening, from him you will also learn it.
He knows everything, the river, everything can learn one of him. See, y
ou also have this, already from the water learned that it is good to strive downwards
to sink, to search for the depth. The rich and distinguished S
iddhartha becomes a rudder servant, the learned Brahmin Siddhartha becomes
a ferryman: also this has been said to you by the river. You w
ill also learn the other of him. "

If Siddhartha, after a long break spoke: " Which other,
Vasudeva? "

Vasudeva rose. " Lately it has become, " he said, " allow to go
sleeping. I can not say to you other, o friend. You
will learn it, perhaps also you already know it. See, I am
no scholar, I do not know how to speak, I also
do not know how to think. I only know how to listen and to be pious, otherwise
I have learned nothing. If I could say it and teach, I would be
perhaps a Weiser, so, however, I am only a ferryman, and my
task is to set people(persons) about this river. I have many
ubergesetzt, thousands, and to them to all my river
has been nothing else than one hindrance on their(her) journeys. They(you) travelled after money and
deals(shops), and to weddings, and to pilgrimages, and the river was
to them in the way, and the ferryman was in addition there, they quickly
spend about the hindrance away. Some under the thousands, however,
some, four or five, to those the river has stopped being a hindrance,
they have belonged his(its) voice, they have listened to him, and
the river has become holy to them how he has become it to me. Let us
now go to the peace, Siddhartha. "
Siddhartha it remained with the ferryman and learned to serve the boat, and
if nothing was to be done in the ferry, he worked with Vasudeva
in the Reisfelde, collected wood, picked the fruits the Pisangbaume. He
learned to timber a rudder, and the boat learned to repair, and baskets
twist, and was cheerfully about everything what learned, and the days and
months ran quickly away. More however, than Vasudeva could teach him,
the river taught him. From him he learned continually.
First of all he learned of him listening, listening with quiet heart,
with waiting, opened soul, without passion, without, wish,
without opinion, without opinion.

Friendly he lived near Vasudeva, and now and again they exchanged words
with each other, a few and long careful words. Vasudeva was no friend
of the words.selten Siddhartha succeeded in moving him in order to speak.
" You Have, " so he asked him once, " you have also learned of the river this s
ecret: the fact that there is no time? "

Vasudevas face covered itself with bright smile.
" Yes, Siddhartha, " he spoke. " Nevertheless, it is this what you mean: the fact that
the river is everywhere at the same time, in the origin and in the mouth,
in the waterfall, in the ferry, in the rapid, in the sea, in the mountains,
everywhere, at the same time, and that there is only present, not the shade past, not the shade future for him?
"
" This is it, " said Siddhartha. " And when I had learned it,
I looked at my life, and it was also a river, and it the boy Siddhartha
was separated from the man(husband) Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha only
by shade, not by real. These were also Siddharthas
earlier births no past, and his(its) death and his(its) return
to Brahma no future. Nothing was, nothing will be; everything is,
everything has nature and present. "
Siddhartha spoke to delight, deeply this inspiration had made happy him.
0, all suffering was not then a time, was not of all
Sichqualen and Sichfurchten time, was not away all difficult, all
hostile in the world and overcome, as long as one had overcome the time,
as long as one could imagine the time?
He had delighted spoken, however, Vasudeva smiled at him radiant and
noded confirmation, silently he noded, glided with the hand
over Siddharthas shoulder, turned back to his(its) work.

And one more time, when just the river was swelled in the rainy season
and rushed incredibly, Siddhartha said: " Not truely, o friend,
the river has many voices, a lot of voices? He does not have the voice
of a king, and a warrior, and a bull, and
a NachtvogeIs, and a bearing, and a sighing, and still
thousand other voices? "

" It is so, " noded Vasudeva, " all voices of the creatures are
in his(its) voice. "

" And you know, " continued(left) Siddhartha, " which word he speaks if
you succeed in hearing all his(its) ten thousand voices at the same time? "

Happily there laughed Vasudevas face, he bent against Siddhartha
and spoke to him the holy Om in the ear. And just this was it what
had also belonged Siddhartha.
And every time his(its) smile of the ferryman became more similar, became
almost as well radiant, almost as well from luck shines through, as well
from thousand small folds shining, as well childish, as well
senilely. They held many traveller if they saw both ferrymen,
for brothers. Often they sat in the evening together with the bank
on the tree trunk, both were silent and listened to the water which
was no water, but the voice of the life, the voice
of the Seienden, the eternally growing for them(her). And it happened now and again that both
thought at listening of the river of the same things, to a talk from
the day before yesterday, to one of their(her) travellers whose face and destiny occupied them(her)
to the death, to their(her) infancy, and that had said them(her) both
at the same moment, if the river to them of something property,
each other looked, both just(exactly) the same thinking, both makes happy
about the same answer to the same question.

It went out from the ferry and from both ferrymen something which
some of the travellers sensed. It happened now and again that
a traveller, after he had looked in the face one of the ferrymen,
began to tell his(its) life, sorrow told, bad person(evil) confessed,
comfort and council(advice) asked. It happened now and again that one asked for permission
to stay an evening with them to listen to the river. It
also happened that curious came to which had been told,
in this ferry had two ways, or magician, or saints.
The curious placed many questions, but they received no answers,
and they found neither magician nor way, they found only two old
friendly little men to be mute which and a little bit eccentrically and goes daft
' appeared. And the curious laughed, and talked
how foolishly and credulously, nevertheless, the people
spreads such empty rumors.

The years went and nobody counted them(her). Once there came monks
made a pilgrimage, supporters of the Gotama, the Bouddha which asked to set them(her)
about the river, and from them the ferrymen found out that they
walked quickly to their(her) big teacher back, because it
has spread the news, the elevated is fatally ill and
will soon die his(its) last human death to come to the redemption. Not long,
there came a new crowd of monks made a pilgrimage, and again one, and t
he monks like most of the rest travellers and hikers spoke
from nothing other than from Gotama and his(its) close death. And how t
o a war train or to the coronation of a king of all pages(sides) everywhere
here the people(persons) flow out and g
ather like ants in crowds, they flowed out how from a magic pulled, there where
the big Bouddha expected his(its) death where the enormous happen and t
he big perfect of a world age should come to the glory.

Much thought Siddhartha in this time of the dying ways,
the big teacher whose voice had admonished peoples and had aroused hundred thousands
whose voice had also looked he once heard, which holy f
ace also he once with respect. Friendly
he thought his(its), saw his(its) way of the completion with eyes, and r
emembered with smile of the words which he had directed once as a young man(husband)
to him, the elevated. These were, appeared to him, pr
oud and precocious words, smiling he remembered theirs. F
or a long time he did not know himself any more about Gotama separated
whose apprenticeship(teaching) he had not been able to accept,
nevertheless. No, no apprenticeship(teaching) c
ould accept a truly searching(looking), one which wanted to find truly. He,
however, who has found, he could each, every apprenticeship(teaching) good-hot, every w
ay, every aim, him separated nothing more from all thousand others wh
ich lived in the eternal which breathed the godlike.

In one of these days, because so many made a pilgrimage to the dying Bouddha,
made a pilgrimage to him also Kamala, once most beautiful of the courtesans.
For a long time she had withdrawn from their(her) last life,
Gotamas had given their(her) garden to the monks, their(her) refuge
had taken to the apprenticeship(teaching), belonged to the friends and benefactresses
of the making a pilgrimage. Together with the boy Siddhartha, to their(her) son,
she had set off on the news of the close death Gotamas there,
in a simple dresses, on foot. With their(her) Sohnlein she was
by the river on the way; however, the boy was soon tired, desired home b
ack to rest desired, to have dinner desired, became stubbornly and t
earful.
Kamala had to rest frequently with him, he was lived
to maintain his(its) will against them(her), she had to feed him, had to comfort him,
had him scoldings. He did not understand, why he
had had to enter upon this difficult and sad Pilgerschaft with his(its) mother,
to an unknown place, to a foreign(strange) man(husband) who was holy and
which lay in the death. Might he die what concerned this the boy?

The making a pilgrimage were not any more far from Vasudevas ferry, than
the small Siddhartha once again his(its) mother urged to a rest. Also
she herself, Kamala, was tired, and while the boy
chewed in a banana, she crouched in the ground(bottom), concluded(closed) a little the eyes
and rested. Suddenly, however, she expelled a complaining cry,
the boy looked at them(her) frightened and saw their(her) face of horror
gebleicht, and under their(her) dresses a small black
snake escaped out was bitten by which Kamala.

Now hastily they ran both of the way to come to people(persons), and
came till the nearness of the ferry, there collapsed Kamala, and
are not able to go on. However, the boy raised a plaintive
shouting kissed in between and umhalste he his(its) mother, and also she
joined in in his(its) loud cries for help, since the sounds(clay) Vasudevas ear
reached which stood with the ferry. Quickly he came gone, took
the woman(wife) on the arms, she carried in the boat, the boy ran along, and soon
they arrived all in the hut where Siddhartha in the herd stood and did just
fire. He looked up and saw first the face of the boy
who reminded him oddly, urged of forgotten. Then he saw
Kamala which he recognized directly, although she
lay unconsciously in the arm of the ferryman, and now he knew that it is a his(its) owner son whose
face had reminded him so much, and the heart moved in his(its)
breast.

Kamalas wound was washed, however, was already black and their(her) body r
isen, a Heiltrank was given her. Your(their) consciousness
returned, she lay on Siddharthas warehouse in the hut, And a
bout them(her) bent stood Siddhartha which had loved them(her) once so much. It
seemed to be their(her) one dream, smiling she looked in their(her) friend's f
ace, only slowly she recognized their(her) position, remembered of the bite,
called fearfully after the boy.
" He is with you, is without fear, " said Siddhartha.
Kamala looked in his(its) eyes. She spoke to difficult tongue(sole),
from the poison paralysed. " You have become old, dear, " said them(her), " gray
you have become. But you resemble the young Samana which
came once without dresses with dusty feet to me to the garden. You resemble him
even more, than you to him at that time glichest, because you have left me and Kamaswami.
In the eyes you resemble him, Siddhartha. Oh also
I have become old, old - you knew me then still? "
Siddhartha smiled: " Immediately I knew you, Kamala, love. "
Kamala pointed at their(her) boy and said: " you also Knew him? He
is your son. "

Your(their) eyes became wander and closed. The boy cried, Siddhartha
took him on his(its) knees, let him cry, his(its) hair stroked, and
while seeing the children's face a Brahmin prayer occured(fell in) to him
whom once he had learned, when he himself was a small boy.
Slowly, with singing voice, he began to speak,
from the past and infancy the words came to him flowed. And
under his(its) Singsang the boy became quiet, gave a still loud sob n
ow and then and fell asleep. Siddhartha put him on Vasudevas warehouse.
Vasudeva stood in the cooker and cooked rice. Siddhartha threw to him a
look which he answered smiling.

" She will die, " Siddhartha said quietly(soft).
Vasudeva noded, about his(its) friendly face there ran the fire light
of the herd.

Again awoken Kamala to the consciousness. Pain pulled their(her) face,
Siddharthas eye read the suffering on their(her) mouth, on their(her) paled
cheeks. He read silence it, attentively, waiting, sinks in their(her) suffering.
Kamala felt it, their(her) look searched for his(its) eye.

She said him looking: " Now I see that also your eyes h
ave changed. In a completely different way they have become. What, nevertheless, I still recognize
by, that you are Siddhartha? You are it, and it is not. "
Siddhartha did not speak, quietly his(its) eyes looked in theirs.
" You have reached it? " She asked. " You have found peace? "
He smiled, and his(its) hand laid on theirs.
" I see it, " she said, " I see it. Also I will find peace. "
" You have found him, " Siddhartha spoke whispering.
Kamala looked to him fixedly in the eyes. She thought of the fact that she
had wanted to make a pilgrimage to Gotama to see the face of a completed
to breathe his(its) peace, and that she
was good instead of his(its) now him found, and that it, as well good, as if she had seen this.
She did not want to say it to him, but the tongue(sole) listened to their(her) will
any more. Silently she looked at him, and he saw in their(her) eyes
the life going out(expiring). When the last pain broke their(her) eye full and,
when the last shudder about their(her) links(limbs) ran, his(its) finger concluded(closed)
their(her) eyelids.
Long he sat and looked at their(her) entschlafnes face. Long
he considered their(her) mouth, their(her) old, tired mouth
with the lips become narrow, and remembered that he had compared once, in the spring
of his(its) years, this mouth of a freshly broken open fig.
Long he sat, read in the pale face, in the tired folds,
filled with the sight, saw his(its) own face lying as well,
as well knows, as well went out(expired), and his(its) face and saw at the same time
theirs youngly, with the red lips, with the burning eye, and
the feeling of the present and simultaneity completely penetrated him,
the feeling of the eternity. Deeply he felt, deeper than ever, this
hour(lesson) the indestructibility of every life, the eternity of every
moment.

Because he rose, Vasudeva rice had prepared for him. But
Siddhartha did not have dinner. In the stable where their(her) goat stood,
both old persons a litter got ready, and Vasudeva lay down sleep.
However, Siddhartha went out(surpassed) and sat the night before the hut,
to the river listening, washes around from past, from all times of his(its)
life at the same time touches and embrace. Now and again, however, he rose,
stepped to the hut door and listened whether the boy sleeps.
Early in the morning, before the sun was visible, there came Vasudeva
from the stable and stepped to his(its) friend.

" You have not slept, " he said.
" No, Vasudeva. I sat here, I listened to the river. A lot he has said
to me, deeply he has fulfilled me with the wholesome thought,
with the thought of the unity. "
" You have experienced(found out) sorrow, Siddhartha, but I see, no
sadness has come to your heart. "

" No, the dear how I should be sad then? I who was rich I
and was happy, am richer even now and become happier.
My son has been given me. "
" Welcome is your son also to me. Now, however, Siddhartha, let us
go to the work, a lot is to be done. On the same warehouse Kamala
has died on which once my woman has died. On the same
hill also we want to build Kamalas stakes on which I
have built once of my woman's stake. "
While the boy still slept, they built the stake.


THE SON

Shy and weeping the boy of the funeral of his(its) Muttter had been present,
darkly and shy he had belonged to Siddhartha which greeted him
as his(its) son and
called him with itself in Vasudevas hut welcome. Palely he sat lasting for days in the hill of the dead persons,
might not have dinner, closed his(its) look, closed his(its) heart, resisted and
struggled against the destiny.

Siddhartha schonte him and let him grant, he honoured his(its) sorrow.
Siddhartha understood that his(its) son does not know him that he can not love him
like a father. Slowly he saw and understood also that
11-year-old a spoiled boy was lived, a mother's child, and
in habits of the wealth grown up, lived to finer food, t
o a soft bed, to order to servants. Siddhartha
understood that the mourning and spoiled suddenly and w
illingly in the stranger and poverty can not be content. He
did not force him, he did some work for him, always selected the best b
ite for him. Slowly he hoped him to win,
by friendly patience.
Empire and happily he had been called, when the boy had come to him.
Because meanwhile the time hinflo?, and the boy remained foreign(strange) and
dark, because he showed a proud and stubborn heart, no
work wanted to do, the old person no respect proved, Vasudevas
fruit trees robbed, there Siddhartha began to understand that
with his(its) son not luck and peace had come to him, but sorrow
and concern. But he loved him, and rather was to him sorrow and concern
of the love, than to him luck and joy had been without boy. Since
the young Siddhartha was in the hut, the old persons had divided in the work.
Vasudeva had only taken over the office of the ferryman again,
and Siddhartha to be with the son, the work i
n hut and field.

A long time, long months Siddhartha waited for the fact that his(its) son
understands him that he accepts his(its) love that he answers them(her) perhaps.
Long months there waited Vasudeva, watching, waited and was silent.
A day as Siddhartha the boy had tormented his(its) father again very much with In spite of and
moods and had broken to him both rice bowls, took
Vasudeva his(its) friend in the evening aside and spoke to him.

" Excuse me, " he said, " from friendly heart I talk
to you. I see that you torment yourself, I see that you have grief.
Your son, dear, does to you concern, and also he does to me concern.
The young bird is accustomed to another life, to another nest.
Not like you have run away he from the wealth and the city from disgust and
surfeit, he left this everything one over there against his(its) will.
I asked the river, o friend, vielemale I have asked him.
The river, however, laughs, he laughs at me, he laughs at me and you, and
shudders about unsre folly. Water wants to water, youth wants
to youth, your son is not in the place where he can prosper.
Question also you the river, also hears you on him! "
Worried Siddhartha to him looked in the friendly face in his(its,that)
a lot of wrinkles constant amusement lived.

" I can separate then from him? " He said quietly(soft), shames. " Leave
me still time, dear 1 See, I fight around him, I advertise around his(its)
heart, with love and with friendly patience I want to catch it.
Once also to him the river should talk, also he is appointed. "

Vasudevas smile flowered warmer. " O, also he is appointed, also he
is from the eternal life. However, us know then, you and me to what he
is appointed, to which way, to which acts, to which sufferings?
Not smallly his(its) suffering will be, proudly and hardly is his(its) heart,
a lot such must suffer, a lot wander, a lot of injustice do,
are charged a lot of sin. Legend to me, my dear: you do not educate your son?
You do not force him? Do not hit him? Do not punish him? "
" No, Vasudeva, this I do not do everything. "
" I knew it. You do not force him, do not hit him, do not order
to him because you know that soft is stronger than hard, stronger water
stronger than cliff, love than authority(violence). Very well, I praise you.
However, it is not an error of you, to mine that you do not force him,
do not punish? You do not bind him in gang with your
love? You do not shame him daily, and do it to him
still more difficult, with your goodness and patience? You do not force him to have
the arrogant and spoiled boy, in a hut with two old
banana eaters which already rice is a delicacy whose
thoughts can not be his(its) whose heart is old and is quiet and
has other way(walk) than his(its)? Is he does not force with alledem,
not punished? "

Concerned Siddhartha looked to the earth. Quietly(soft) he asked: " What,
you mean, I should do? "

If Vasudeva spoke: " Bring him to the city, brings him in his(its) mother Haus,
it still will be servants there, to those give him. And if nobody more
is there, brings him to a teacher, not of the apprenticeship(teaching) because of, but
that he comes to other boys, and to girl, and in the world
which is his(its). Have you never thought of it? "
" You see in my heart, " Siddhartha spoke sadly. " Often I have thought
of it. However, see how I should give him who has anyway no gentle
heart, in this world? Will become he excessive not, he will not lose himself
in desire and power, he will not repeat all errors
of his(its) father, he will not get lost perhaps completely
in Sansara? "

Brightly flashed of the ferryman's smile; he touched softly Siddharthas
arm and said: " Ask the river about that point, friend! Hear him about that point
laughing! You believe then, really that you have committed your follies
to save them(her) the son? Can and you protect then your son
against Sansara? How then? By apprenticeship(teaching), by prayer,
by admonition? Rather, you have completely forgotten this history(story) then, this
instructive history(story) of the Brahmin's son the Siddhartha you have told to me once h
ere at this point? Who has retained the Samana Siddhartha
from Sansara, before sin, before greed, before folly? Has of his(its) f
ather Frommigkeit, his(its) teachers Ermahnung, his(its) own knowledge has,
his(its) own searches him can retain? Which father which teach h
e could protect him to have even the life to dirty itself even
with the life to load even blame on himself t
o drink even the bitter drank, his(its) way to find?

You believe then, dear, this way remains to somebody perhaps saves?
Perhaps to your Sohnchen because you love it because you would gladly like
to save sorrow and pain and disappointment him?
But e
ven if you ten times for him sturbest, would not be able to take you from him the smallest
part of his(its) destiny with it. "
Still Vasudeva had never spoken so many words. Friendly
Siddhartha thanked him, went worried to the hut, found long no
sleep. Vasudeva had said to him nothing which he would not have already thought a
nd would have known. But it was a knowledge which he
could not do, stronger than the knowledge w
as to be lost his(its) love to the boy, stronger his(its) tenderness, his(its) fear, him. Had he lost then e
ver to something so much his(its) heart, he had ever loved any
people(persons) so, so blindly, so suffering, so unsuccessfully, an
d, nevertheless, so happily?
Siddhartha could not obey of his(its) friend's council(advice), he could not give
the son. He can be ordered from the boy, he
can be ignored by him. He was silent and waited, began daily
the mute battle of the friendliness, the silent war of the patience.
Also Vasudeva was silent and waited, friendly, knowing, forbearingly.
In the patience they were both masters.

Once, when of the boy face reminded him very much of Kamala,
Siddhartha had to think suddenly of a word, the Kamala before times,
during the days of the youth, once to him had said. " You can not love,
" she had said to him, and he had given their(her) right(law) and
had compared himself with a star, the children's people, however, with falling foliage,
and, nevertheless, he had sensed in this word also a reproach.
Indeed, he never had himself to another people(persons)
completely can lose and gave away, forget themselves, follies
of the love of another because of commit; he never had gekonnt, and
this was how to him at that time appeared, the big difference which
separated him from the children's people. Now however, since his(its) son was there,
now he had also become, Siddhartha, completely a children's person,
people(persons) because of suffering, people(persons) loving, lost to a love, a
love because of a gate become. Now he also felt, lately, once
in the life this strongest and strangest passion, suffered from her, suffered p
laintively, and, nevertheless, was made happy, nevertheless, was renewed around something,
the a little bit richer.
Probably he sensed, that this love, this blind love to his(its) son
a passion, something very human that she is Sansara,
a cloudy source, a dark water. Nevertheless, he felt at the same moment,
she was not worthless, she was necessary, came from his(its) own nature.
Also this desire wanted paid, also these pains
wanted to be cost, also these follies committed.

The son let meanwhile him commit his(its) follies, let him advertise,
him daily let before his(its) moods humble. This father had
nothing what delights him, and nothing what he would have feared. He was
a good man(husband), this father, a good, gentle, gentle man(husband),
perhaps a very pious man(husband), perhaps a holy of this everything one were not
qualities which could win the boy.
Boringly was to him this father who
held in custody him there in his(its) miserable had, boringly he was to him, and that he
answered every bad habit
with smile, every insult with friendliness, every malice with goodness, just was the verha?teste craft of this old
Schleichers. Much rather the boy would be threatened by him, from him
been ill-treated.

There came a day in which of the young Siddhartha sense broke out
and addressed openly against his(its) father. He had given to him an order,
he had him brushwood collect called. However, the boy did not go
from the hut, he stopped stubbornly and furiously, rammed
the ground(bottom), made into a ball the fists, and shouted in enormous outbreak to his(its)
father Hass and contempt in the face.

" Get you your brushwood! " He called foaming, " I am not your
servant. I know that you do not hit me, you do not venture it;
I know that you
want to punish me with your Frommigkeit and your leniency constantly and chop. You want that I should become
like you point, also so piously, also so gentle, also so! However, I
hear, I want to as become, to you to stands, rather a bandit and murderer
will go and to the hell, as as you! I hate you, you are not m
y father, and if you have been ten times of my mother Buhle!
"
Fury and grief overran in him, foamed in hundred waste and
bad words to the father against. Then the boy ran away and
came again only lately in the evening.
In the other morning, however, he had disappeared. Had also disappeared s
mall, from two-tone phloem the twisted basket in which
the ferrymen kept these copper coins and silver coins they g
ot as a Fahrlohn. Had also disappeared the boat, Siddhartha saw it o
n the opposite bank lying. The boy had run away.
" I must follow him, " said Siddhartha which
trembled since these outdated insult speeches of the boy with misery. " A child can go not only
by the forest. He will die. We
must build a raft, Vasudeva to come about the water. "

" We will build a raft, " said Vasudeva, "
to repeat our boat which the boy has kidnapped. However, you should run him,
friend, he is no more child, he knows himself to help. He searches
for the way for the city, and he is right, do not forget this. He does this
to do what you independently have missed. He cares for himself, he goes his(its)
road. Oh Siddhartha, I sees you suffering, but you stand
pains at which one would like to laugh at whom you yourself will soon laugh.
"

Siddhartha did not answer. He already held the hatchet in hands, and
a raft from bamboo began to do, and Vasudeva helped him
to bind the trunks with grass ropes zuzammen. Then they went over, were far carried off,
pulled the raft on the opposite bank flu?auf.

" Why you have taken the hatchet? " Asked Siddhartha.
Vasudeva said: " It could be that the rudder unsres boat would have got lost.
"

However, Siddhartha knew what thought his(its) friend. He thought, the boy is thrown away
the rudder or have broken to take revenge
and to hinder them(her) in the pursuit. And, really, no more rudder was
in the boat. Vasudeva pointed to the ground(bottom) of the boat, and
looked at the friend with smile, as if he wanted to say; " you Do not see what your
son wants to say to you? You do not see that he
does not want to be pursued? " Nevertheless, he did not say this with words. He got down
to timber a new rudder. However, Siddhartha
said goodbye to look for the escaped. Vasudeva did not hinder him.
When Siddhartha was for a long time in the forest on the way, the thought came to him
that his(its) searches are pointlessly. Either, he thought, the boy
had arrived for a long time in front and already in the city, or if he
should still be on the way, he would keep before him, the pursuing,
hidden. Because he thought ahead, he also thought that he himself was not i
n concern about his(its) son that he knew in the Innersten, he
has died neither, nor menaces him in the forest danger. Nevertheless, he did not run w
ithout rest, any more to save him, only from desire, only to see him
perhaps again. And he ran up to the city.
When he got near with the city on the wide street, he stopped,
in the entrance of the beautiful pleasure ground which had belonged once Kamala
where he had seen them(her) once, in the Sanfte, for the first time.
The of that time got up in his(its) soul, again he saw himself standing there,
youngly, a bearded naked Samana, the hair fully dust. Long there stood
Siddhartha and looked by the offne gate in the garden, he saw monks
in yellow frocks going under the beautiful trees.
Long he stood, thinking, pictures seeing, the history(story) of his(its)
life listening. Long he stood, looked after the monks, saw
instead of theirs the young Siddhartha, saw the young Kamala
going under the high trees. Clearly he saw himself how he was entertained by Kamala
how he received their(her) first kiss how he
looked back proudly and despicably at his(its) Brahmanentum, proudly and requiring his(its) world life began.
He saw Kamaswami, saw the servants, the banquets, the dice players,
the musicians, saw Kamalas songbird in the cage, had this everything again,
breathed Sansara, was old again and tired, felt the disgust again,
felt the wish again to extinguish himself, recovered again
in the holy Om.
After he had stood long with the gate of the garden, Siddhartha saw
that the desire was foolish which had driven him up to this place
that he could not help his(its) son that he might not cling
to him. Deeply he felt the love
to the escaped in the heart how a wound, and felt at the same time that
the wound was not given him to dig in her that she must become the flourish(blossom)
and shine.
The fact that the wound did not flower by this hour(lesson) yet, yet did not shine,
made him sad. Now here of the desirable aim which had dragged him here
and the escaped son, stood empty. Sadly
he sat down, something felt dying in his(its) heart, felt
empty, saw no more joy, no aim. He sat sunk, and
waited. He had learned this by the river, this one: wait, patience
have, listen. And he sat and listened, in the dust of the street,
listened to his(its) heart how it was mud and sadly, waited
for a voice. Some hour(lesson) crouched he listening, saw no more pictures,
sank in the empty, can sink without seeing a way. And
if he felt burning the wound, he spoke silently the Om, filled
with Om. The monks in the garden saw him, and because he crouched many hours(lessons),
and on his(its) gray hair the dust gathered, came
gone and laid down two Pisangfruchte before him. The old person
did not see him.
From this solidification a hand woke him which his(its) shoulder
touched. Directly he recognized this touch, the delicate, schamhafte,
and came to himself. He rose and greeted Vasudeva which had followed him.
And because he looked in Vasudevas friendly face,
in the small ones how with loud smiles to filled out folds,
in the cheerful(bright) eyes, there he also smiled. Now he saw the Pisangfruchte
lying before himself, she lifted au, this gave to the ferryman, ate even the other.
He went back to it silently with Vasudeva in the forest,
came home to the ferry. Nobody spoke from him what had happened today, nobody
named the name of the boy, nobody spoke from his(its) flight, nobody
spoke from the wound. In the hut Siddhartha on his(its)
warehouse lay down, and because in a while Vasudeva stepped to Him to offer a bowl coconut milk to him,
he found him already sleeping.


Om

Long still the wound burned. Siddhartha
about the river had to set some traveller who had a son or a daughter with itself, and
he saw none of them, without he envied him, without he thought:
" So many, so many thousands do not possess this holdeste luck - why I?
Also bad people(persons), also thieves, and robbers have children, and
they love, and are not loved by them, only I. " So simply,
so without raison he thought now, so similarly he had become the children's people.


Now in a different way he looked at the people(persons) than earlier, less wisely,
less proudly, about it warmer, for it more curiously, involved. If he translated travellers
of the usual sort, children's people, businessmen,
warriors, womenfolk, these people did not appear to him foreign(strange) like
once: he understood them(her), he understood and shared to her not from thought
and realizations, but only from impulses and wishes led
life, he felt like they(she). Although he was close to the completion, and
carried in his(its) last wound, nevertheless, appeared to him, these children's people
are his(its) brothers, their(her) Eitelkeiten, desirability and
ridiculousness lost the ridiculous for him, became understandable,
became endearingly, became even admirable to him. The blind
love of a mother to their(her) child, the silly, blind pride
of an arrogant father on his(its) single Sohnlein, the blind, wild
striving for jewellery and for admiring man's eyes with
young, eitlen Weibe, all these desires(drives), all this childishness, all
this simple, foolish, but enormously strong, very living,
strongly to asserting desires(drives) and desirability were
no more childishness for Siddhartha now, he saw around ihretwillen
the people(persons) living, she saw perform ihretwillen infinite(endless), journeys do,
wars lead, infinite(endless) stand, infinite(endless) endure, and he
could they(she) for it love(love each other), he saw life, alive,
indestructible, Brahman in each(every) their(her,theirs) passions, each(every) their(her,theirs)
acts. Endearingly and admirably these people(persons) were in their(her)
blind faithful, theirs blind strength and toughness. They lacked nothing,
the knowing and thinker had nothing before them in front
as a single little thing, a single tiny small thing: the consciousness,
the conscious thought of the unity of all life. And Siddhartha
doubted even by some hour(lesson), whether this knowledge, this thought
so much high to evaluate whether also he did not like to be perhaps a childishness
of the mental people, the mental children's people. In all other
the world people to the way were equally, were to him often far
consider how also animals in their(her) tough, single-minded activities
of the necessary at some moments the people(persons) consider can appear.


Slowly flowered, slowly the knowledge,
the knowledge matured in Siddhartha about what is actually a wisdom what is an aim of his(its) long Suchens.
It was nothing as a readiness of the soul,
an ability, a secret art, constantly, in the middle of life,
the thoughts of the unity think of being able to feel the unity and of being able to inhale.
Slowly this blossomed in him, shone to him from Vasudevas to old
children's face against: harmony, knowledge around the eternal perfection
of the world, smile, unity.

However, the wound still burned, ardently and bitterly thought Siddhartha
of his(its) son, maintained his(its) love and tenderness in the heart,
allowed to eat the pain in itself, committed all follies of the love. Not
automatically this flame went out(expired).

And a day as the wound burned violently, went Siddhartha
about the river, hunted from longing, got out and was of will
to go after the city and to search for his(its) son. The river flowed gently and
quietly(soft), it was in the dry season, but his(its) voice sounded
eccentrically: she laughed! She laughed clearly. The river laughed, he finished laughing
brightly and obviously the old ferryman. Siddhartha stopped,
he bent over the water to hear still better, and in the quietly
going water he saw his(its) face reflected, and in this
reflected face something was which reminded him, something forgotten, a
nd because he reflected, he found it: this face resembled another
which he had loved once known and had feared and also. It resembled t
he face of his(its) father, the Brahmin. And he remembered how
he had forced before times, a youth, his(its) father to allow to go him
to the penitents how he had taken farewell of him how he
had gone and had never again come again. Had his(its) father
around him did not stand also the same sorrow how he stood it now around his(its) son?
Had his(its) father did not die for a long time, only
without having seen again his(its) son? He himself not had to expect this same destiny?
It was no comedy, a strange and silly thing,
this repetition, this running in a fatal circle?

The river laughed. Yes, it was so, everything came again what was not stood
up to end and was solved, it were stood again the same sufferings.
Siddhartha, however, rose again in the boat and went back
to the hut, his(its) father thinking, laughs his(its) son thinking,
from the river, with himself in the quarrel, bent to the despair,
and not less bent, about himself and the whole world according to
mitzulachen. Oh still did not there flower the wound, his(its) heart still resisted
against the destiny, amusement and victory from his(its) stands still
did not shine. But he felt hope, and because he had returned to the hut,
he sensed an invincible desire
to open before Vasudeva to show everything to him, to him, the master of the Zuhorens,
to say everything.

Vasudeva sat in the hut and twisted in a basket. He did not go
any more with the ferryboat, his(its) eyes began to become weak, and
not only his(its) eyes; also his(its) arms and hands. Invariably and
flowering was only the joy and the cheerful(bright) goodwill of his(its) face.

Siddhartha sat down to the old man, slowly he began to speak
About which they had never spoken, now of it he told,
from his(its) way(walk) to the city, at that time, from the burning wound, from his(its) e
nvy while seeing happy fathers, from his(its) knowledge around the folly
of such wishes, from his(its) vain battle against them(her). H
e reported everything, he could say everything, also the most awkward, everything
can be said, everything appear, he could tell everything. He showed h
is(its) wound, also told his(its) current flight how he
has gone about the water, childish refugee, will after the city t
o walk how the river has laughed.

While he spoke, long spoke, while Vasudeva with quiet face
listened, Siddhartha felt this listening Vasudevas stronger, than he had ever felt it,
he sensed how his(its) pains, his(its) c
oncerns hinuberflossen, how his(its) secret hope
hinuberflo?, to him from over there again met. To this listener t
o show his(its) wound, the same was how they have a bath in the river, since she became coolly
and with the river one. While he still spoke, s
till confessed and confessed, Siddhartha felt more and more that of this
not more Vasudeva, any more a person was not who listened to him, that th
is motionless listening his(its) confession in itself einsog like a tree t
he rain, that this motionless the river, that he God th
at he was the eternal himself. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of itself
and of his(its) wound, this knowledge of the changed
nature of the Vasudeva of him took possession, and the more he felt it and
penetrated into it, the less oddly it became, the more he saw
that everything was in order and naturally that Vasudeva has been for a long time,
almost always so that only he himself had not recognized it completely,
that he himself is hardly different from this.
He felt that he sees the old Vasudeva now in such a way as the people s
ees the Gods, and that this can not be from duration; he
began to say goodbye in the heart to Vasudeva. Besides, he spoke always away.
When he had spoken at the end, Vasudeva directed his(its) friendly,
look little bit become weak at him, did not speak, radiated to him
silently love and amusement against, understanding and knowledge. He
took Siddharthas from hand, led him to the seat on the bank,
sat down with him, smiled at the river.
" You heard him laughing, " he said. " However, you have not belonged everything.
Let us listen, you will hear more. "

They(you) listened. Gently there sounded the polyphonic singing of the river.
Siddhartha looked in the water, and in the going water pictures appeared to him
: his(its) father appeared, lonely, around the son mourning; he himself
appeared bound, lonely, also he with the gangs of the longing to the far
son; his(its) son, lonely also he, the boy,
covetous on the burning road of his(its) young wishes appeared storming,
each on his(its) aim been directed, each of the aim possessed, each suffering.
The river sang with a voice of the suffering, ardently he sang,
ardently he flowed towards his(its) aim, complaining there sounded his(its) voice.
" You Hear? " Asked Vasudevas mute look. Siddhartha noded.
" Hear better! " Whispered Vasudeva.
Siddhartha tried to hear better. The picture of the father, his(its)
own picture, the picture of the son's fins into each other, also Kamalas
picture appeared and melted, and
all became the picture Govindas, and other pictures, and fins into each other about, the river, all
headed as a river for the aim, ardently, desiring, suffering, and the river
voice fully sounded longing, fully from burning pain, fully
from insatiable desire. To the aim strove the river, Siddhartha watched
him hurry, the river which existed(consisted) of him and which his(its) and of all people(persons),
he had ever seen, all waves and water hurried, s
uffering, to aims, a lot of aims, the waterfall, the sea(lake),
the rapid which seas, and all aims were reached, and each a
new followed, and from the water became steam and rose
in the sky, became rains and fell down from the sky, became a source, became a
brook, became a river, strove afresh, flowed afresh. But
the ardent voice had changed. Still she sounded, sorrowfully,
searching, but other voices joined to her, voices of the joy
and the sorrow, good and bad voices, laughing and mourning, hundred
voices, thousand voices.

Siddhartha listened. Now he was completely an eavesdropper, completely deepens in listening,
completely empty, completely soaking up, he felt that he has learned now
listening at the end. Often already he had belonged all this,
today this a lot of voices in the river, sounded again. Already he
could not distinguish a lot of voices any more, not glad from weeping,
not childish from male, they belonged together all, complaint
of the longing and laugh of the knowing, cry of the fury and groaning
the dying, everything was one, everything was intertwined into each other and
Yerknupft, thousandfold devoured. And everything together, all voices,
all aims, all longing, all sufferings, all desire, all the best and bad person(evil),
everything was together the world. Everything was together the river
of the events, was the music of the life. And if Siddhartha listened attentively
to this river, this 1000-voices Liede if he did not hear o
n the sorrow still on the laugh if he bound his(its) soul not
to any voice and came with his(its) I into them(her), but h
eard all, then the whole which heard unity, existed(consisted) the big song
of thousand voices of a single word, this called OM: the completion.
" You Hear, " asked again Vasudevas look.
Brightly Vasudevas smiles shone, about all wrinkles of his(its) old
face it floated shining how about all voices of the river
the Om floated. Brightly his(its) smile shone, when he
looked the friend, and now brightly the same smile on also shone on Siddharthas face.
His(its) wound flowered, his(its) sorrow shone, his(its) I had flowed
into the unity.

This hour(lesson) Siddhartha stopped fighting with the destiny,
heard on to suffer. On his(its) face flowered the amusement
of the knowledge with which no more will conflicts which knows the completion,
this agrees with the river of the events, with the current
of the life, fully pity, fully codesire, to flowing out given away,
the unity associated.

When Vasudeva rose to the seat on the bank, when he
looked in Siddharthas eyes and saw radiating the amusement of the knowledge in it,
he touched his(its) shoulder quietly(soft) with the hand, in his(its) cautious
and delicate way, and said: " I have waited for this hour(lesson),
dear. Now she has come, let me go. Long I have,
for this hour(lesson) waited, long I have been ' the ferryman Vasudeva.
Now it is enough. Probably live, hut, lives probably, river, lives probably,
Siddhartha! "

Siddhartha bowed deeply to the saying goodbye.
" I have known it, " he said quietly(soft). " You will go to the forests? "
" I go to the forests, I go to the unity, " Vasudeva spoke
radiant.

Radiant he passed; Siddhartha gazed after him. With deep
joy, with deep Ernst he gazed after him, saw his(its) steps fully
peace, saw his(its) head fully brilliancy, saw his(its) form fully light.


GOVINDA

Stayed with other monks Govinda once during a rest time
in the desire grove the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of the Gotama.
He heard from an old ferryman speaking who removes
a day's journey from the grove by the river lives, and is held by many
for ways. As a Govinda of the way weiterzog, he chose
the way the ferry to see desirously this ferryman. Since whether he
had probably had his(its) life long according to the rule, was also respected by the Jungeren to
monks of his(its) age and his(its) modesty because of with respect,
nevertheless, the anxiety and the searches had not gone out(expired) in his(its) heart.


He came to the river, he asked the old person around cross, and because they
rose over there from the boat, he said to the old person: " of A lot of property you prove us
to monks and pilgrims, you have many of us already ubergesetzt.
You are not also, ferryman, a detector after the right path? "

If Siddhartha, from the old eyes spoke smiling: " you Name
a detector, o of respectable, and, nevertheless, are already high in these, to years, and
carry the garment of the monks Gotamas? "
" Probably I am old, " spoke Govinda, " to look, however, I have not stopped.
I will never stop to look, this appears my
regulation(determination). Also you, it seems to me, have looked. Want you
to say to me a word, revered? "

If Siddhartha spoke: " What I should to you, respectable, have probably to say?
Perhaps this that you look too much? The fact that you do not come before searches
in order to find? "
" How then? " Asked Govinda.
" If somebody looks, " said Siddhartha, " then it happens easily that
his(its) eye sees only the thing for which he searches, that to find nothing he,
nothing is able to let in itself because he only always
thinks of the searched because he has an aim because he is possessed by the aim.
Searches calls: an aim have. Find, however is called: be free, are open,
no aim have. You, respectable, are striving perhaps, indeed,
a detector, because, to your aim, you do not see something
what stands near with your eyes. "

" Still I do not understand completely, " asked Govinda, " how you mean? "
If Siddhartha spoke: " Once, o of respectable, before some years, you
have been already once by this river, and have found by the river
a sleeping, and have sat down to him
to protect his(its) sleep. Recognized, however, o Govinda, you do not have the sleeping. "

Marvelling how an enchanted, looked the monk in the ferryman's
eyes.
"
You Are Siddhartha? " He asked with shy voice. " I would not have recognized you
also diesesmal! Warmly I greet you, Siddhartha,
warmly I am glad to see you again 1 You have changed very much,
you have become Freund. - And now a ferryman? "
Friendly there laughed Siddhartha. " A ferryman. Some, Govinda, m
ust change a lot, must carry all kinds of garment, theirs one
I am, dear. Is welcome, Govinda, and it remains the night i
n my hut. "

Govinda it remained the night in the hut and slept on the warehouse which
had been once Vasudevas warehouse. He directed many questions
to the friend of his(its) youth, a lot
had to tell to him Siddhartha from his(its) life.

When it was a time in the other morning to enter upon the day migration, there
Govinda said, not without hesitation, the words: " before I continue my way,
Siddhartha, still allows me a question. You have
an apprenticeship(teaching)? You have a belief, or a knowledge which you follow whom to you
live and rechttun helps? "
If Siddhartha spoke: " You know, dear, that I already arrived as a young man(husband),
at that time, when we lived with the penitents in the forest to mistrust the apprenticeships(teaching)
and teachers and to turn the back to them. I have still thought.
Nevertheless, I have had since then many teachers.
A beautiful courtesan has been a long time my teacher, and
a rich businessman was my teacher, and some WurfeIspieler. Once
a walking younger(later) Bouddha has also been my teacher; he sat w
ith me, when I had fallen asleep in the forest, on the Pilgerschaft. Also
from him I have learned, also to him I am grateful, very grateful. H
ere mostly, however, I have learned from this river, and from my
predecessor, the ferryman Vasudeva. It was a very simple person, V
asudeva, he was no thinker, but he knew the necessary virtually
Gotama, he was a perfect, a holy. "
Govinda said: " still, o Siddhartha, you love a little
the mockery how to me appears. I believe you and know that you are followed no
teacher. However, you yourself not have, even if
no apprenticeship(teaching), so, nevertheless, certain thoughts, certain knowledge found
which are your own and help to live to you? If you
liked to say something to me of these, you would please to me the heart. "

If Siddhartha spoke: " I have had thought, and knowledge, a
lways. I have sometimes felt, for an hour(lesson) or for a day, knowledge i
n me, as well as one feels life in his(its) heart. Some th
oughts were it, but difficultly it would be for me to inform of them(her) you. S
ee, my Govinda, this is one of my thoughts which I have found:
wisdom is not communicable. Wisdom tries to inform of which a Weiser, a
lways sounds like folly. "
" You Joke? " Asked Govinda.
" I do not joke. I say what I have found. One Can know do not inform,
of wisdom, however. One can find them(her), one can have them(her),
one can be carried by her, one can do with their(her) miracle,
but say and can not teach one them(her). This was it what I already
sometimes anticipated as a Jungfing what
has me from the teachers fortgetrieben. I have found a thought, the Govinda you will hold again
for joke or for folly which
is, however, mine, the best thought. He is called: from every truth the contrary is as well true!
Namhch so: a truth can be pronounced always only
and wrapped in words if she is one-sided. One-sided everything is what is meant with thought
and can be said with words, everything one-sided, everything half, e
verything does without the totality, the rounds, the unity. If
the elevated Gotama spoke teaching from the world, he had to divide(share) them(her) i
nto Sansara and Nirvana, in deception and truth, in sorrow and. Redemption.
One can not in a different way, there is no other way for these who wants to teach.
The world itself, however, the being around us here and in us inside,
is never one-sided. Never is a person, or an act, completely Sansara o
r completely Nirvana a person is quite never holy or quite sinful. I
t seems so because we are subjected to the deception that time is
something real. Time is not real, Govinda, I has often experienced(found out) this of
ten and. And if time is not real, is the
span which seems to lie between world and eternity, between sorrow and bliss, be
tween bad person(evil) and property, also a deception. "
" How? " Govinda asked fearfully.
" Hear well, dear, hears well! The sinner whom I am and whom you are,
he is a sinner, but once he will be Brahma again, once he
will reach Nirvana, Bouddha will be - and now see: this " Once " is
a deception, is only a simile! The sinner is not on the way
to the Buddhaschaft on the way, he is not understood in a development,
although our thinking does not know how to introduce itself the things in a different way.
No, in which sinner is, now is and today already the future Bouddha,
his(its) future is already there all, you have to revere in him, in you, in each
the growing one, the possible one, the hidden Bouddha. T
he world, friend Govinda, is not imperfect, or on a slow
way understood to the perfection: no, she is at every moment c
ompletely, all sin already carries the mercy in itself, all small
children already have the old man in themselves, all babies the death, all d
ying the eternal life. It is possible to no one
to see from the other how wide he is on his(its) way, in the robber and
dice player waits Bouddha, in the Brahmanenwartet of the robbers. There is,
in the deep meditation, the possibility to lift the time
to see everything gewesene, being and his(its) growing life as at the same moment
and there is good everything, everything completely, everything is Brahm in. This is why
this appears to me what is, well, it seems to me death like life, sin like
holiness, cleverness like folly, everything must so his(its), everything needs only
of my agreement, only my willingness, my loving
consent, it is good for me, can only promote me, c
an never damage to me. I have experienced(found out) in my body and in my soul
that I needed the sin very much, I needed the lust,
the striving for goods, the vanity, and it needed
the most injurious despair to learn to give up the Widerstreben
to learn to love the world not to compare them(her) any more to any
of me wished, from me arrogant world,
to let to a sort thought out by me the VollkommenhReit, but they(she) how
she is, and to love them(her), and you gladly anzugehoren. - this, o G
ovinda, are some, from the thoughts, which have come to me to the sense.
"
Siddhartha bent over, lifted a stone of the Erdbodene and weighed him
in the hand.

" He said " This here, playing, " is a stone, and he
will be an earth in a certain time perhaps, and will become from earth a plant,
or animal or person. Earlier now I would have said: this stone is
only a stone, he is worthless, he belongs to the world the Maja; but
because he
can also become a person and spirit perhaps in the cycle(blood circulation)
of the conversions, this is why I also give him validity. So I
would have thought earlier perhaps. Today, however, I think: This stone is
a stone, he is also an animal, he is also a God, he is also a Bouddha, I
revere and love him not because he could become once this or this,
but because he is everything for a long time and always - and just this
that he is a stone that he appears to me now and today as a stone,
just therefore loves I him, and value and sense sees in each of his(its)
veins and concavities, in the yellow, in the grayness, in the hardness, in the sound,
which he from itself gives(presents,is), if I he beklopfe, in aridity or
humidity his(its) surface(environment). There are stones, they feel like
oil or how soap, and other like sheets(leaves), other like sand, and each
is particularly and recites the Om in his(its) way, each is Brahman,
at the same time, however, and just as much he is a stone, is oily or juicy, and
just I like this and seem to me strange and to the worship,
wurdig. - But any more do not let me of it say. The words
are not good for the secret Sifin, it always changes everything immediately a little
if one pronounces it, a little falsifies, a little crazily - yes,
and also I like this is very good and very much, also with it I
am very agreed that this sounds what is a treasure and wisdom of people(persons)
to the other folly like always. "
Silently there listened Govinda.
" Why you have said to me from the stone? " He asked
for a break hesitating.

" It happened without purpose. Or perhaps it was meant so that I
just love the stone, and the river, and all these things we can consider
and learn from those we. I can love a stone, Go
vinda, and also a tree or a piece of bark. These are things, a
nd one can love things. However, I can not love words. This is why ap
prenticeships(teaching) are nothing for me, they have no hardness, no point, n
o colors, no edges, no smell, no taste, they have no
thing as words. Perhaps it is this what prevents you f
rom finding the peace, perhaps these are a lot of words. Since also re
demption and virtue, also Sansara and Nirvana are bare words, G
ovinda. There is no thing which would be Nirvana; there is only the word Ni
rvana. "

If Govinda spoke: " not only a word, friend, is Nirvana. It is
a thought. "

Siddhartha continued(left): " a thought, it may so his(its). I
must confess to you, dear: I do not distinguish between thought and words
very much. To tell the truth, I also do not hold from thought a lot. I
hold from things more. Here on this ferryboat a man(husband) was, for example,
my predecessor and teacher, a holy man(husband), he has believed some
years long simply in the river, otherwise to nothing. He
had noticed that of the river voice spoke to him, from her he learned, she
educated and taught him, the river appeared to him a God, long he did not know many years
that every wind, every cloud, every bird, every beetle
just(exactly) is white so heavenly and just as much and can teach like
the revered river. When this saint went, however, to the forests,
he knew everything, knew more than you and I, without teacher, without books, only
because he had believed in the river. "
Govinda said: " However, this is what you name things ', because something
real, some Wesenhaftes? This is not only Carried the Maja, only
picture and light? They are your stone, your tree, your river - then
realities? "

" Also this, " spoke Siddhartha, " does not afflict me very much. If
the things may not light his(its) or, also I am then a light, and
they always are people like me. This is it what she
does to me so dearly and verehrenswert: they are people like me. This is why I can love them(her).
And now this is an apprenticeship(teaching) at which you will laugh:
the love, o Govinda, seems to me of all to be the central issue.
To see through the world, to explain(to express) them(her), to despise them(her), big
thinker may be a thing. To me, however, lies only to be able to love the world,
not to despise them(her), not to hate them(her) and me,
to be able to consider them(her) and me and all natures with love and admiration and respect.
"
I understand " This, " spoke Govinda. " However, just this he has recognized,
the elevated, as a carried. He orders goodwill, indulgence, pity,
tolerance, but not love; he forbade us, our heart in love
to earth to tie up. "

" I know it ", said Siddhartha; his(its) smile shone gold. " I
know it, Govinda. And see, there we are in the middle of thicket
of the opinions in there, in the quarrel around words. Since I can not deny,
my words of the love are inconsistent, in apparent
against saying with Gotamas to words. Just therefore I mistrust the words so much,
because I know, this opposition is a deception. I know that I
am in agreement with Gotama. How he should not know then also the love,
He has recognized, of all Menschensein in his(its) transitoriness, in his(its)
unimportance, and, nevertheless, the people(persons) loved so much that
he has devoted a long, laborious life only to help them
to teach them(her)! Also with him, also with your big teacher,
the thing is dear to me than the words, his(its) activities and life more important
than his(its) speeches, the gesture of his(its) hand more importantly than his(its) opinions.
Not in the speech, in the thinking I do not see his(its) size, only in the activities,
in the life. "
Long both old men(husbands) were silent. Then there spoke Govinda, while
he bowed at parting: " I danke to you, the Siddhartha that you have said somewhat of your thoughts to me.
These are partly strange
thoughts, not all have become understandable to me immediately. This
may be how it wants, I danke to you, and I wish you quiet days. "
( In secret with himself, however, he thought: this Siddhartha is
an odd person, he pronounces odd thoughts, crazily
there sounds his(its) apprenticeship(teaching). In a different way there
sounds of the elevated pure apprenticeship(teaching), more obviously,
more purely, more understandably, nothing strange, crazy or ridiculous
is contained in her. But in a different way than his(its) thoughts appear to me
Siddharthas hands and feet, his(its) eyes, his(its) forehead, his(its) breathing, his(its)
smile, his(its) greeting, his(its) way(walk). Never again, since our elevated Gotama
came into Nirvana, I have never again found people(persons) from
whom I felt: this is a Heiligert Only him,
I have found this Siddhartha, so. If his(its) apprenticeship(teaching) may be strange, his(its) words
may sound crazily, his(its) look and; His(its) hand, his(its) skin and his(its) hair,
everything in him radiates a purity, radiates a peace,
radiates an amusement and mildness and holiness which I have seen in no other
people(persons) since the last death of our elevated teacher.)

While Govinda thought, and a conflict was in his(its) heart,
he bent again towards Siddhartha, from love pulled. Deeply
he bowed to the quietly sitting.
" Siddhartha, he spoke, " we have become old men(husbands).
One of us will hardly see again the other in this form. I see,
the loved that you have found the peace. I confess not to have found him.
Legend to me, revered, still a word, give to me something
which I touch whom I can understand! Give to me something o
n my way. He is often cumbersome, my way often dark, Siddhartha. "

Siddhartha are silent and looked him with always resemble, quiet
smiles. Rigidly Govinda looked to him in the face, with fear,
with longing, sorrow and eternal searches stood in his(its) look written,
eternal Nichtfinden.

Siddhartha saw it, and smiled.
" Bend you to me! " He quietly(soft) whispered in Govindas ear. " Bend you
to me here! So, still nearer! Total near! Kiss me on the forehead,
Govindal "
While however Govinda surprises,
bent and, nevertheless, from big love and notion pulled, his(its) words listened, near towards him and
touched his(its) forehead with the lips, happened to him something strange.
While his(its) thoughts still stayed with Siddharthas to odd words,
while he
tried still in vain and with Widerstreben to introduce himself the time
hinwegzudenken, itself to Nirvana and Sansara
as the one, while even a certain contempt argued
for the words of the friend in him with an enormous love and respect,
this happened to him:
He did not see of his(its) friend Siddhartha Gesicht any more, he saw
instead other faces, many, a long row, a flowing out river
of faces, from hunderten, from thousands which came all one and
passed, and, nevertheless, all appeared at the same time dazusein which all one
were renewed constantly changed and, and which, nevertheless, all Siddhartha
were. He saw the face of a fish, a carp,
with infinitely painful opened mouth, a dying fish, w
ith refractive eyes - he saw red the face of a newborn child child,
and fully folds, to the wine spoiled - he saw the face of a murderer, s
aw him a knife in the body one. People(persons) sting - he saw,
by the same second, this criminal kneel tied up and his(its) head
by the executioner with a sword blow are beaten off - he saw the bodies
of men(husbands) and women(wives) nakedly in positions and battles(fighting) of furious
love - he saw corpses stretched, quietly, coldly, empty - he saw
animal heads, from boars, from crocodiles, from elephants, from bulls,
from birds - he saw Gods, saw Krischna, saw Agni - he saw all these
forms and faces in thousand relations to each other, each
other helping, they(she) loving, they(she) hating, they(she) devastating, they(she) again
bearing, each was Sterbenwollen, fervently
painful confession transitoriness, and nobody died nevertheless,
each(every) transformed(changed) itself only, became always again born, received(agreed) always
new face, without nevertheless between one and other face
time would have lain - and all this forms and faces rested,
fins, produced itself, swam there and flowed out into each other, And
about all had constantly gone something thin, insubstantial, nevertheless, of being, h
ow a thin glass or ice how a transparent skin,
a bowl or form or mask of water, and this mask smiled, a
nd this mask was Siddharthas smiling face which he touched, Govinda,
at just this same moment with the lips. And, G
ovinda saw, this smile of the mask, this smile of the unity
about the flowing out organizations, this smile of the simultaneity a
bout thousand births and dead persons, this smile Siddharthas was just(exactly)
the same, was just(exactly) same, quiet, fine, impenetrable, p
erhaps gentle, perhaps derisive, points, tausendfaltige
smiles Gotamas, the Bouddha how he himself had seen it 100 times with respect.
So, this knew Govinda, smiled the completed.

Not more knowing whether there is time whether this Schauung has granted a second
or hundred years, not more knowing whether it
wounds a Siddhartha, whether it a Gotama whether it Me and You give, in the Innersten
like from a godlike arrow whose wound tastes sweetly,
in the Innersten enchanted and dissolved, Govinda still stood
a small while, about Siddharthas quiet face bent which he
had just kissed which h
ad just been a scene of all organizations, everything Werdens, everything Seins. The face was unchanged, a
fter under his(its) surface(environment) the depth the Tausendfaltigkeit had shut again, he smiled quietly, smiled
quietly(soft) and gently, p
erhaps very gentle, perhaps very derisively, just(exactly) how he had smiled,
the elevated.

Deeply Govinda bowed, tears ran about which he
knew nothing, about his(its) old face how a fire the feeling of the most
intimate love, the demutigsten worship burned
in his(its) heart. Deeply
he bowed, up to earth, before which motionless to the sitting whose
smile reminded him of everything what he had ever loved in his(its) life w
hat had ever been holy in his(its) life to him worth and.



End this project Gutenberg Etextes "Siddhartha" of Hermann Hesse.
Final of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Siddhartha, by Hermann Hesse