The Monkey and the Monk by Anthony C. Yu

Author:Anthony C. Yu
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780226971575
Publisher: University of Chicago Press

SIXTEEN

At the Guanyin Hall the Tang monk escapes his ordeal;1 At the Gao Village the Great Sage disposes of the monster.

[Having recovered the stolen cassock with the help of the Bodhisattva Guanyin, Tripitaka and his disciple left the Guanyin Hall to set out again on their journey.] As Pilgrim led the way forward, it was the happiest time of spring. You see

The horse making light tracks on grassy turfs;

Gold threads of willow swaying with fresh dew.

Peaches and apricots fill the forest gay.

Creepers grow with vigor along the way.

Pairs of sun-warmed ducks rest on sandy banks;

The brook’s fragrant flowers tame the butterflies.

Thus autumn goes, winter fades, and spring’s half gone;

When will merit be made and the True Writ found?

Master and disciple traveled for some six or seven days in the wilderness. One day, when it was getting late, they saw a village in the distance. “Wukong,” said Tripitaka, “look! There’s a village over there. How about asking for lodging for the night before we travel again tomorrow?” “Let’s wait until I have determined whether it is a good or bad place before we decide,” said Pilgrim. The master pulled in the reins as Pilgrim stared intently at the village. Truly there were

Dense rows of bamboo fences;

Thick clusters of thatched huts.

Skyscraping wild trees faced the doorways;

The winding brooklet reflected the houses.

Willows by the path unfurled their lovely green;

Fragrant were the flowers blooming in the yard.

At this time of twilight fast fading,

The birds chattered everywhere in the woods.

As kitchen smoke arose,

Cattle returned on every lane and path.

You saw, too, well-fed pigs and chickens sleeping by the house’s edge,

And the old, sotted neighbor coming with a song.

After surveying the area, Pilgrim said, “Master, you may proceed. It appears to be a village of good families, where it will be appropriate for us to seek shelter.” The priest urged the white horse on, and they arrived at the beginning of a lane heading into the village, where they saw a young man wearing a cotton head-wrap and a bluejacket. He had an umbrella in his hand and a bundle on his back; his trousers were rolled up, and he had on his feet a pair of straw sandals with three loops. He was striding along the street in a resolute manner when Pilgrim grabbed him, saying, “Where are you going? I have a question for you: what is this place?” Struggling to break free, the man protested: “Isn’t there anyone else here in the village? Why must you pick me for your question?” “Patron,” said Pilgrim genially, “don’t get upset. ‘Helping others is in truth helping yourself.’ What’s so bad about your telling me the name of this place? Perhaps I can help you with your problems.” Unable to break out of Pilgrim’s grip, the man was so infuriated that he jumped about wildly. “I’m licked, licked!” he cried. “No end to the grievances I have suffered at the hands of my family elders and I still have to run into this baldheaded fellow and

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