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Title: Siddhartha Author: Herman Hesse Release Date: February, 2001 [EBook #2500] [Most recently updated: October 23, 2002] Edition: 10 Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SIDDHARTHA ***

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SIDDHARTHA An Indian Tale by Hermann Hesse

FIRST PART To Romain Rolland, my dear friend

THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank near the boats, in the shade of the Sal-wood forest, in the shade of the fig tree is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun tanned his light shoulders by the banks of the river when bathing, performing the sacred ablutions, the sacred offerings. In the mango grove, shade poured into his black eyes, when playing as a boy, when his mother sang, when the sacred offerings were made, when his father, the scholar, taught him, when the wise men talked. For a long time, Siddhartha had been partaking in the discussions of the wise men, practising debate with Govinda, practising with Govinda the art of reflection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. Joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans.

Bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect. Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans' young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips. But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman. He loved Siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, fiery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman, not a lazy official in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. No, and he, Govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. And in days to come, when Siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-carrier, his shadow. Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all. But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, flowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacrifices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans. Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, Govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness,

the pure one. the spirit was not content. where the wise men or penitents. which everyone had in himself? But where. not the father. the acts of the gods. mortal? Was it therefore good. the only one. into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans. the most important thing. which was worthwhile looking for? Alas. pure as honey collected by bees. and not the teachers and wise men. and nobody showed this way. who else was to be worshipped but Him. where did He reside. of inhaling. in its indestructible part. into every step of the way. in its innermost part. the Atman. So. where was it? To reach this place. in his deep sleep. subject to time. the most venerable one. particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda. nobody knew it. they did not wash off the sin. "Your soul is the whole world". they did not heal the spirit's thirst. the creation of the world.-But where were the Brahmans. The ablutions were good. it was neither thought nor consciousness. was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made. His father was to be admired. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses. of exhaling. the singular one? Were the gods not creations. they knew infinitely much--but was it valuable to know all of this. all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words. was it right. spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing. the Atman? And where was Atman to be found. they had taken care of everything and of more than everything. where. was written there. myself. chiefly his father. the soul was not calm. the self. not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans. the origin of speech. the heart was not satisfied. the solely important thing? Surely. of food. The sacrifices and the invocation of the gods were excellent--but was that all? Did the sacrifices give a happy fortune? And what about the gods? Was it really Prajapati who had created the world? Was it not the Atman. and it was written that man in his sleep. they did not relieve the fear in his heart. wonderful verses. would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman. No. created like me and you. this innermost part. into the life. there was another way. not the holy sacrificial songs! They knew everything. they knew everything. pure his . the scholar. who had succeeded in not just knowing this deepest of all knowledge but also to live it? Where was the knowledgeable one who wove his spell to bring his familiarity with the Atman out of the sleep into the state of being awake. thus the wisest ones taught. where the priests. where else but in one's own self. where did his eternal heart beat. the only one. He. the Brahmans and their holy books. not knowing that one and only thing. the arrangement of the senses. quiet and noble were his manners. but they were water. this ultimate part? It was not flesh and bone.and the vessel was not full. many verses of the holy books. where was this self.

as a thirsty man. my dear. Govinda rose." Often. The evening had come. it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching. And among all the wise and wisest men. wrapped up in contemplation. thinking Om. ascetics on a pilgrimage. was he not also just a searching man. Thus sat he. Govinda twenty paces away. from the books. neither old nor young.life. he seemed not to breathe. Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts. almost naked. three skinny. he knew and whose instructions he had received. with dusty and bloody shoulders. the arrow is soul. the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth. who knew so much. Siddhartha did not answer. wise his words. ready to speak the Om. it was time to perform the evening's ablution. was getting lost. scorched by the sun." They went to the Banyan tree. the heavenly world. who had quenched it completely. over and over every day? Was not Atman in him. After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed. Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: Om is the bow. this was his thirst. withered men. they sat down. strive for a cleansing every day. did he live in blissfulness. the irreproachable one. he who knows such a thing. did not the pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found. the name of the Brahman is satyam--verily. a thirsty man? Did he not. have to wash off sins every day. Siddhartha right here. was a detour. but never he had reached it completely. "Govinda. who had reached it completely. this was his suffering. from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he. never he had quenched the ultimate thirst." Siddhartha spoke to his friend. He called Siddhartha's name. delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow --but even he. the eternal thirst. among all of them there was no one. the pristine source in one's own self. from the offerings. again and again. come with me under the Banyan tree. While putting himself down. Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-Upanishad the words: "Truly. his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought. That one should incessantly hit. his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target. will enter the heavenly world every day. Once. . "Govinda. have to drink from holy sources. it seemed near. Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town. did he have peace. The Brahman is the arrow's target. let's practise meditation. the heavenly world.

my friend. In the evening. Govinda realized: Now it is beginning. until his father felt that someone was standing behind him. unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded. my father. "O Govinda. He will become a Samana." he spoke quietly. And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin." Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission. ." The Brahman fell silent. his arms folded. Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: "Early tomorrow morning. 'ere the silence was broken. the Brahman rose. and stepped behind his father and remained standing there. Siddhartha stood silently. "let's not waste words. silent and motionless sat the father on the mat.surrounded by loneliness. Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say. Behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion. and the stars traced their paths in the sky. May my father not oppose this. at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. now Siddhartha is taking his own way." he exclaimed. read the fear. of destructive service. my own. read the submission. of merciless self-denial. I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth. But indignation is in my heart. Soon and with the first glance. where his father was sitting on a mat of bast. and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions. My desire is to become a Samana. strangers and enemies to the world. now his fate is beginning to sprout. Then spoke the father: "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words. Quoth the Brahman: "Is that you. Siddhartha will go to the Samanas. "What are you waiting for?" asked the father." Siddhartha entered the chamber." Slowly. when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend. Arrow-fast he read in Govinda´s soul. strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. Speak no more of it." Govinda turned pale. after the hour of contemplation. and with his. Tomorrow. "will your father permit you to do that?" Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. "O Siddhartha.

Siddhartha. who seemed tall and like a stranger to him. before the day began. the father returned to his bed. in the moon light. looked through the small window." "I will become tired." . he came back after two hours. he returned. After an hour. And he came back after an hour. "what are you waiting for?" "You know what. saw Siddhartha standing. the father left the chamber. he went to his bed and lay down. Through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside. Through the window of the chamber he looked back inside. saw him standing in the same place. and there he saw Siddhartha standing. not moving from his spot. And in the night's last hour. and evening?" "I will stand and wait. With worry in his heart. the Brahman stood up again." Indignant. Siddhartha. the father went back to bed." "I will not fall asleep. since no sleep had come over his eyes. since no sleep had come over his eyes. paced to and fro. filled his heart with anger. and left the house. until it'll becomes morning." "You will fall asleep. With anxiety in his heart. indignant. he looked into the chamber. his arms folded. the Brahman stood up. silently. paced to and fro." "Will you always stand that way and wait. "Siddhartha." he spoke. filled his heart with unrest. there stood Siddhartha.Quoth Siddhartha: "You know what. "You will become tired. After another hour. not moving from his spot. noon. by the light of the stars. saw the young man standing there. Pale shimmered his bright robe. stepped into the room. filled his heart with anguish. And he came back hour after hour. moonlight reflecting from his bare shins. in the darkness. his arms folded. filled it with sadness. walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen.

" "And would you rather die. "go into the forest and be a Samana." said Govinda. and joined the pilgrim--Govinda. and went to his mother to do as his father had said. Siddhartha. When you'll have found blissfulness in the forest. who had crouched there. then come back and teach me to be blissful. than obey your father?" "Siddhartha has always obeyed his father. tell her where you are going to. The Father touched Siddhartha's shoulder." "So will you abandon your plan?" "Siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do. as he tried to walk. If you'll find disappointment. The Brahman saw that Siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees. "I have come. his eyes were fixed on a distant spot. He put his limbs back under control. But for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the first ablution." He took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. In Siddhartha's face he saw no trembling. As he slowly left on stiff legs in the first light of day the still quiet town. bowed to his father. Siddhartha wavered to the side. the skinny ." said Siddhartha and smiled. Then his father realized that even now Siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home. then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together." "I will die. "You have come. that he had already left him. Go now and kiss your mother." The first light of day shone into the room. WITH THE SAMANAS In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics. "You will."You will die. a shadow rose near the last hut." he spoke.

priests determining the most suitable day for seeding. it all stank. mourners wailing for their dead. until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. to find tranquility with an emptied heard. He fasted for fifteen days. and never something cooked. until nothing burned any more. Silently. to calm the beat of his heart. then the ultimate part of me had to awake. not to be a self any more. until they were silent. and Siddhartha stayed rigidly. until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more. Silently. empty of thirst. it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful. his mouth twitched with contempt. empty of joy and sorrow. whores offering themselves. until nothing stung any more. and offered them their companionship and--obedience. a single goal: to become empty. lovers loving. to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts. mothers nursing their children--and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above. learned to stop breathing. it all stank of lies. unsown cloak. and the penitent stood there. which is no longer my self. The flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. beginning with the breath. Silently. the innermost of my being. over freezing hips and legs. glowing with pain. They were accepted. from festering wounds dripped pus. shaggy beard grew on his chin. the great secret. when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. He fasted for twenty-eight days. glowing with thirst. blood dripped from the burning skin. Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly. Once all of my self was overcome and had died. stayed motionless. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured. he cowered in the thorny bushes. from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders. and stood there. He saw merchants trading. he stood there in the rainy season. He ate only once a day. A goal stood before Siddhartha. and it all was just concealed putrefaction. until no blood flowed any more. physicians trying to help the sick. learned to get along with only few breathes. empty of dreams. Life was torture.Samanas. until they were only a few and almost none. long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry. that was his goal. Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes. once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart. it all lied. His glance turned to icy when he encountered women. princes hunting. He learned. . Dead to himself. until they were quiet. empty of wishing. leaned to reduce the beats of his heart. The world tasted bitter.

"how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?" Govinda answered: "We have learned. you've learned every . A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank. Occasionally the two of them went through the villages. undertook the same efforts. and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him. the return was inevitable. in the shade or in the rain. he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. But though the ways led away from the self. than the service and the exercises required. awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap. felt the pangs of a heron's hunger. stayed in nothingness. was the dead jackal. Govinda. tiredness. had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle. was water. practised meditation. felt new thirst. got bloated. was dismembered by hyaenas. decayed. He went the way of self-denial by means of pain. thirst. stayed in the animal. walked the same paths. sun shone or moon. was wood. hunger. felt thirst. he killed his memory. inescapable was the hour. through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain. was an animal. was carrion. their end nevertheless always led back to the self. according to a new Samana rules. to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. was skinned by vultures." Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way. was scattered as dust. died a heron's death. You'll be a great Samana. turned into a skeleton. "How do you think. was stone. and awoke every time to find his old self again. Quickly. where the end of the causes. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation. was his self again. They rarely spoke to one another. And Siddhartha's soul returned. was a heron. where he could escape from the cycle. Siddhartha. a thousand times he left his self. A heron flew over the bamboo forest--and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul. in the stone. These and other ways he learned to go. turned to dust. lay on the banks. and Siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body. ate fish. through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. overcame the thirst. and we'll continue learning. By his side lived Govinda. many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. was blown across the fields. had died. flew over forest and mountains.Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas. spoke the heron's croak. He killed his senses. turned round in the cycle. stank. and was once again his self and Siddhartha. had decayed. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times. Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas. his shadow. Siddhartha practised self-denial. when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight. for hours and days he remained in the non-self. where an eternity without suffering began.

What I've learned. might we be on the right path? Might we get closer to enlightenment? Might we get closer to salvation? Or do we perhaps live in a circle-we. oh Siddhartha. but he'll return from the delusion. my friend. this. I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means." And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: "I do not know. I've never been a drunkard. oh Govinda. staying in the non-self.exercise. to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers. as a child in the mother's womb. up to this day. oh Govinda. then he finds a short numbing of the senses. Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now. insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" And Siddhartha said quietly. when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda. and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a Samana is no drunkard." Quoth Siddhartha: "I can't help but feel that it is not like this. another time. who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" . it is a short escape of the agony of being a self. my friend. This is how it is." Quoth Govinda: "You say so. it's true that he briefly escapes and rests. One day. Siddhartha. holding your breath. you'll be a holy man. the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn. But that I. being among the Samanas. often the old Samanas have admired you. drinking a few bowls of rice-wine or fermented coconut-milk." Quoth Govinda: "Siddhartha is putting me on. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses. find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom. oh Govinda. Then he won't feel his self any more. among carters and gamblers I could have learned it. he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises. finds everything to be unchanged. as if he was talking to himself: "What is meditation? What is leaving one's body? What is fasting? What is holding one's breath? It is fleeing from the self. this I know. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-wine. oh Govinda." And once again. oh friend. has not become wiser. The same escape. from salvation. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are. has gathered no enlightenment.--has not risen several steps. it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. How could you have learned meditation. this I know. then he won't feel the pains of life any more.

we will not find. so many holy men." "If you only. perhaps not a single one. my thirst has remained as strong as ever. if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. We are not going around in circles. oh my friend." And Siddhartha: "He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. we learn feats. and on this long path of a Samana. And so I'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it. to deceive others." At this. he has walked along your side for so long. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer." Siddhartha answered: "How old.Quoth Govinda: "We have learned a lot. Siddhartha. so many who are eagerly trying. Govinda stopped on the path. But the most important thing. there is still much to learn. I always thirsted for knowledge. as what we refer to as `learning'. this is everywhere. we have already ascended many a level. only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly. we will grow just as old and will do our exercises. among so many who are searching. the path of paths. "wouldn't speak such terrible words. and I have asked the devote Samanas. he won't and we won't. Govinda. just one knowledge. Perhaps. and spoke: "If you. I'm suffering of thirst. and you and me. Siddhartha. what of the venerability of . the circle is a spiral. oh Govinda. so I believe. and will meditate. We find comfort. a slightly mocking voice: "Soon. and will fast. your friend will leave the path of the Samanas. year after year. There is. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet. among so many austere and venerable Samanas." spoke Govinda. year after year. will reach the nirvana. had been just as smart and just as profitable. it had been just as well. and I have asked the holy Vedas. I have always been full of questions. oh Govinda. no one will find the path of paths?" But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery. our venerable teacher?" Quoth Govinda: "Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age. He'll turn seventy and eighty. we find numbness. this is within me and within you and within every creature. a slightly sad. Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men. year after year. we are moving up. among so many Brahmans. I have asked the Brahmans. oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing. But we will not reach the nirvana. with a quiet. I believe out of all the Samanas out there. not a single one. Oh Govinda. this is Atman. would you think. rose his hands. you words stir up fear in my heart. is our oldest Samana. than learning.

in the yellow cloak of an ascetic. teaching. the name of Gotama. a man of bliss. what would remain of all that which seemed to us to be holy? What remains? What can stand the test? And he shook his head. But Siddhartha remained silent. he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle. without possession. the Buddha. what is venerable on earth?!" And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself. in the towns. if there was no learning?! What. the wise man of the family of Sakya. its fragrants rose up. without home. with good and with bad talk. the Buddha. many would doubt. the highest enlightenment. a wise man. here and there. He was said to wander through the land. some news.the Brahmans' caste. this rumour. oh Siddhartha. what would then become of all of this what is holy. Yes. of a purified spirit. just like this this myth ran through the land. He possessed. with praise and with defamation. and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. the Buddha reached the ears of the young men. a rumour. if it was as you say. what is precious. again and again. to seek the wise man. that fragrant myth of Gotama. This myth. whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence. what of the holiness of the Samanas. but many would get on their way as soon as possible. unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart. the Samanas. he remembered his previous lives. a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared. the exalted one. a knowledgeable one. the helper. standing there with his head low. he thought. without a wife. surrounded by disciples. but with a cheerful brow. At one time. It was as if the plague had broken out in a country and news had been spreading around that in one or another place there was a man. when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end. so the believers said. was never again . Gotama by name. the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest. he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. loses himself in the meditation of Atman. many would believe. this legend resounded. a verse from an Upanishad: He who ponderingly. and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it.

The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest. comforting. They rarely talked about it. you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?" . After all. and he had no high opinion of this Gotama. this made my chest ache when I breathed. and also Siddhartha. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. my faithful friend. and also Govinda. felt a longing. I had thought. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest. Verily. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him. here a messenger seemed to call out. every drop laden with doubt. this Gotama was a vain seducer. an eagerness. to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me. if only we both would too. So now you. I had not known Govinda well enough. he had performed miracles. but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures. here a source seemed to spring forth. had spoken to the gods. when he brought news of him. scorned the offerings. "Oh Siddhartha. full of noble promises. live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak. Siddhartha and me. "Today.submerged in the murky river of physical forms. want to take a new path and go there. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard. the young men listened up. drop by drop. and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome. oh Govinda. there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha. wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Always. Govinda would stay with the Samanas. slowly. was without learning. every drop laden with hope. felt hope. had overcome the devil. and in his house. I was in the village. Mock me if you like. But behold. mild. But his enemies and disbelievers said. and thought to myself: If only I would too. and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation. the Sakyamuni. and a Brahman invited me into his house." Govinda spoke one day to his friend. where the Buddha spreads his teachings. which are becoming a Samana. everywhere in the lands of India. he would spent his days in luxury. because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. always I had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising those feats and exercises." Quoth Govinda: "You're mocking me. life was hard to bear--and behold. the world was sick. I knew little of his heart. Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire. friend. who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. the exalted one.

If you only remembered the other thing as well. Govinda.At this. But the Samana became angry. Govinda said: "Oh Siddhartha. the old man made several bows. how should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings. you've remembered correctly. it is very hard to cast a spell . let us await with calm hearts." Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana. subdued him under his own will. his will was paralysed. and said: "Well. But let's do it. deprived him of his power. took away his free will. in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery. I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him. made him mute. I am willing to listen to these teachings--though in my heart I believe that we've already tasted the best fruit of these teachings. whatever he demanded him to do. It is hard. which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning. Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision. On the way. went on their way with salutations. have already revealed their best fruit to us?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest. that he wanted to leave him. he captured the old man's glance with his glances. you've heard from me." On this very same day. commanded him. you've spoken well. and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. oh friend. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. is small. which are brought to us by teachers. which we already now received thanks to the Gotama. The old man became mute. And thus." Quoth Govinda: "Your willingness delights my heart. consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us. because the two young men wanted to leave him. he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew. to do silently. he had to carry out. without power. oh Govinda! But this fruit. performed gestures of blessing. even before we have heard them. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now. But tell me. my dear. and that my faith in words. his eyes became motionless. what they commanded. Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner. And the young men returned the bows with thanks. his arms were hanging down. with a concentrated soul. spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. returned the wish.

the most venerable one. you have truly come to the right place. the perfected one. and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well so. an obedient worshipper of the exalted one." "I do not seek to walk on water. for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come. leaving with a filled dish. I have seen him." This made Govinda happy. and Siddhartha asked the woman.on an old Samana. to see him. and to hear the teachings from his mouth. On many days. wearing his yellow cloak. you would soon have learned to walk on water. the exalted one. had given him and his people for a gift. do you know him. who handed them the food: "We would like to know. had pointed them towards this area. which the two young ascetics had received in their search for Gotama's abode. before the door of which they stopped to beg. have you seen him with your own eyes?" Quoth the woman: "Many times I have seen him. Truly. food has been offered to them." said Siddhartha. the silently begging ones." . the grove of Jetavana. Near the town was Gotama's favourite place to stay. oh charitable one. "Let old Samanas be content with such feats!" GOTAMA In the town of Savathi. which the rich merchant Anathapindika. And arriving at Savathi. in Jetavana. and our path has come to an end! But tell us. where the Buddha dwells. thus we have reached our destination. and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of Gotama's disciples. There you pilgrims shall spent the night. to hear the teachings from his mouth. and they accepted the food. walking through the alleys in silence. in the garden of Anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. All tales and answers. every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha. You should know. for there is enough space for the innumerable. you Samanas from the forest. in the very first house. oh mother of the pilgrims. if you had stayed there." Quoth the woman: "Here. who flock here. the Buddha. presenting his alms-dish in silence at the doors of the houses.

according to a precise rule. the only meal of the day. by the quietness of his appearance. They thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions. only light and peace. who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. there were constant arrivals. Govinda also realized: This is the one. . And since they reached it at night. But Siddhartha urged him to walk on. and the two Samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm. Thus Gotama walked towards the town. an untouchable peace. somewhat resembling a healthy child. it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. bearing the alms-dish in his hand. the Buddha walked. The Buddha himself. and talk of those who sought shelter and got it. modestly and deep in his thoughts. no desire. And soon.Delightedly. At sunrise. The two Samanas. walking silently. the enlightened one. accustomed to life in the forest. monks walked in yellow robes. quiet. and he instantly recognised him. On all paths of the marvellous grove. And they followed him and observed him. Govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe. they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here." Attentively. The majority of the monks went out with their alms-dish. to collect food in town for their lunch. "This one is the Buddha. no imitation. Siddhartha saw him. breathed softly in an unwhithering calm. shouts. his quietly dangling hand and even every finger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace. full of people. was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. as if a god had pointed him out to him. "Look here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda. no effort to be seen. With a hidden smile. in which there was no searching. did not imitate. Govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. to collect alms. the shady gardens looked like a city. in deep contemplation--or in a conversation about spiritual matters. his calm face was neither happy nor sad. for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from Gotama's community were on their way to the Jetavana. under the trees they sat here and there. He saw him. wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did. expressed perfection. in an unwhithering light. found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. But his face and his walk. did not search. The Buddha went on his way. a simple man in a yellow robe. calm. his quietly lowered glance. bustling like bees.

when the Buddha had retired for the night. when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around." said Govinda. taught the four main doctrines. Govinda . he did not believe that they would teach him anything new. brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners. He felt little curiosity for the teachings. and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-trees."Today. Gotama taught the teachings of suffering. was of perfect calmness. his shoulders." Behold. But in the evening. Never before. Right afterwards. and it seemed to him as if every joint of every finger of this hand was of these teachings. patiently he went the usual path of the teachings. this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. though these reports only represented second. was full of peace.or third-hand information. This man. They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence. taught the eightfold path. and it was also perfected. full of suffering was the world. heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again. we'll hear the teachings from his mouth. of the way to relieve suffering. just as Govinda had. of the repetitions. the shy one. but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would walk the path of the Buddha. his quietly dangling hand. to put an end to all suffering. Siddhartha had venerated a person so much. they heard the Buddha teaching. Suffering was life. but he had. never before he had loved a person as much as this one. his feet. also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings. like a starry sky. This man was holy. breathed of. They saw Gotama returning--what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite. it has come to you well. many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community. exhaled the fragrant of." and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. Thus join us and walk in holiness. spoke of. Siddhartha did not answer. sought refuge in the teachings. yet firm voice the exalted one spoke. then Govinda. like a light. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. glistened of truth. They heard his voice. With a soft. of the examples. for they themselves intended to abstain from on this day. When the Buddha--night had already fallen--ended his speech. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head. And Gotama accepted them by speaking: "You have heard the teachings well. of the origin of suffering.

renounced all friendship. Govinda. Govinda realized that his friend had left him. I beg you. Always. it is not my place to scold you. this is what the exalted one wants. my honoured friend. oh Govinda. Often I have thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself. since it could not be any other way. without me. And over and over again. oh my friend. This is what you wanted for yourself. that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents. you've been my friend. repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up. my friend. For a long tome. what fault he would find in these teachings. he has taken refuge in it. out of his own soul? Behold. he looked into Govinda's face. you've always walked one step behind me. that you also. not completely understanding it yet. don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate. now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. This is what the teachings require. Govinda has heard the teachings. how could I find a fault in them?" . Tomorrow. be have both perceived the teachings. I wish that you would go it up to its end. when he heard Govinda's words. now you have taken this step. do you want to wait any longer?" Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep. Then he spoke quietly. "Siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly. oh Govinda. the friends continued walking in the grove. that you shall find salvation!" Govinda. he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings. they lay there and found no sleep. in a voice without mockery: "Govinda. that you shall find salvation!" In this moment. my learned friend. renounced your free will.turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha. We have both heard the exalted one. my dear! Tell me. I'm repeating it: I wish that you would go this path up to its end. Govinda urged his friend. But you." For a long time. for a long time. renounced your birth and possessions. and he started to weep. Siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "Don't forget. I'll leave you. Govinda! Very good are the teachings of the exalted one. oh Govinda. now you have chosen this path. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be content. will take your refuge with the exalted Buddha!" Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You failed to hear my good wish for you.

" Siddhartha continued. possibly this is not essential--but the uniformity of the world. truly. a chain which is never and nowhere broken. to hear your teachings. "Too bold is my speech. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" Silently. But I will again start on my pilgrimage. without gaps. the Buddha nodded his approval. to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the first teachings and duties of their position. And now my friend is going to stay with your people. clear as a crystal.Very early in the morning. But Siddhartha walked through the grove. embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings. is proven. never before. an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time." "As you please. Then he happened to meet Gotama. Quoth Siddhartha: "Yesterday. oh exalted one. I have admired in your teachings most of all. I do not wish to discuss. by the same law of causes. and when he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm. that everything which happens is connected." the venerable one spoke politely. the exalted one. Never before. the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love. Quoth Siddhartha: "One thing. a follower of Buddha. went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings. oh perfected one. Silently the exalted one nodded his approval. once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected. Together with my friend. of coming into being and of dying. "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts. you are presenting the world as a perfect chain. lost in thought. whether living according to it would be suffering or joy. I had come from afar. Whether it may be good or bad. this has been seen so clearly. not depending on chance. not depending on gods. he has taken his refuge with you. Then Govinda broke loose. oh most venerable one. this has been presented so irrefutably. I had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. But according to your very own teachings. this unity and necessary sequence of all things is . one of his oldest monks. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear.

oh seeker of knowledge. oh exalted one. an error." said the young man. something which had not been there before. when I have heard the teachings. of salvation. But the teachings. But with this small gap. the perfected one." Quietly. But let me say this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. that you have reached the goal. he alone among hundreds of thousands. with his kind. You've found a gap in it. you've heard from me. Please forgive me for expressing this objection. to argue about words. for I know there are none. everyone can support them or discard them. the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And--thus is my thought. "I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you. through thoughts. these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself. unmoved. there is little to opinions. and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world. This is what I have thought and realized. and of this hour. This is why I am continuing my travels--not to seek other. are no opinion. Now he spoke. You are truly right. But often. with his polite and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings. through realizations. quietly. It has come to you in the course of your own search. on your own path. their goal is salvation from suffering. I'll think of this day. This is what Gotama teaches. the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. But be warned. You have found salvation from death.nevertheless broken in one place. would not be angry with me. oh son of a Brahman. through a small gap.--nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody. with this small breach. this world of unity is invaded by something alien. nothing else. in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. smart or foolish. and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge." The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground. through enlightenment. better teachings. Gotama had listened to him. in perfect . and good for you that you've thought about it thus deeply. through meditation. when my eyes beheld a holy man. it teaches many to live righteously. they may be beautiful or ugly. oh exalted one. oh venerable one. But there is one thing which these so clear. to avoid evil. You should think about this further. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha. They have a different goal. something new. There is nothing to opinions." "I wish that you. oh exalted one.

a single man. not before any other.equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. I saw a man. I am deprived by the Buddha. oh Samana. Only for myself. sit and walk this way. Well so. since this man's teachings have not enticed me. that you shall reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas. oh venerable one. He has deprived me of my friend. oh stranger. Be aware of too much wisdom!" The Buddha turned away. thus concealed. I am deprived. my duty to follow you." the venerable one spoke slowly. my many brothers. I have never before seen a person glance and smile. Siddhartha thought. truly. thus child-like and mysterious. with an unwavering openness and kindness. oh Samana. I wish to be able to glance and smile. oh exalted one. and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory. who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe. Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. thus free. "You are wise. No teachings will entice me any more. I do not want to lower my glance before any other. I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed. too. for then I had replaced my self with the teachings. I must refuse. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for. thus open. that they shall reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. sit and walk this way." exclaimed Siddhartha. thus venerable. thought Siddhartha. I must chose. he thought. for myself alone. and the community of the monks!" With half of a smile. "I wish. the venerable one spoke. "that your thoughts shall not be in error. before whom I would have to lower my glance. do you believe that it would be better for them all the abandon the teachings and to return into the life the world and of desires?" "Far is such a thought from my mind. If I merely were one of your disciples. the one . I must decide.". my friend. but that in truth it would live on and grow. and even more he has given to me. I'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly. "You know how to talk wisely. "I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings. my love for you. Truly.

only hide from it. which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. He pondered about this sensation. Slower. even him. stayed behind.who had believed in me and now believes in him. where the Buddha. which was: "That I know nothing about myself. as he was slowly walking along. where Govinda stayed behind. but had turned into a man. which filled him completely. he had left him. could only flee from it. Slowly walking along. that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. which I sought to overcome. the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. and what they. were still unable to teach you?" And he found: "It was the self. who have taught you much. of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others. had to part with him. It was the self. like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation. Buddha. as this my very own self. But he has given me Siddhartha. was not able to accept his teachings. as a snake is left by its old skin. who had been my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. that one thing no longer existed in him. AWAKENING When Siddhartha left the grove. He realized that he was no youth any more. about Siddhartha!" Having been pondering while slowly walking along. he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him. of me being Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me. could only deceive it. the most holy one. what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers. and right away another thought sprang forth from these. down to the place where the causes lie. But I was not able to overcome it. because to identify the causes. stems . He realized that one thing had left him. no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy. the highest and wisest teacher. Truly. is the very essence of thinking. He pondered deeply. and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost. then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path. myself. he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "But what is this. so it seemed to him. a new thought. Siddhartha pondered. this mystery of me being alive. but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. I wanted to free myself from. the perfected one.

coincidence. Beautiful was the world. this is over. nor the ascetics.from one cause. And it was not long before he walked again. a smile filled his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes. who scorns diversity. in Siddhartha. Blue was blue. "How deaf and stupid have I been!" he thought. he will study and love them. as if he was seeing the world for the first time. a single cause: I was afraid of myself. and if also in the blue and the river. I called the visible world a deception. there sky. all this yellow and blue. the divine part. the singular and divine lived hidden. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer. "Oh. was no longer a spell of Mara. there forest. colourful was the world. the Atman. I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this . strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue. I have. nor any kind of teachings. in everything. was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances. who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being. But I have lost myself in the process. scorned the symbols and letters. they were in them. "now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer. taking a deep breath. the secret of Siddhartha. "When someone reads a text. but he will read them. letter by letter. and worthless hull. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things. I searched Brahman. here blue. the awakening one. for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read. so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose. walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do. called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. nor Atharva-Veda. was no longer the veil of Maya. I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. I want to learn from myself. and in its midst was he. entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes. despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman. who seeks unity. life." he thought. he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions." He looked around. here was green. to find a secret behind the ruins. want to be my student." Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around. I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman. I have awakened. the sky and the river flowed. on the path to himself. and here Siddhartha. here was yellow. river was river. all of it was beautiful. wants to discover its meaning. But I. Siddhartha. walking swiftly along. I was willing to to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers. the forest and the mountains were rigid. all of it was mysterious and magical. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more. to be here yellow. All of this. the ultimate part. river and forest. to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior. No. want to get to know myself.

But he. Whatever should I do at home and at my father's place? Study? Make offerings? Practise meditation? But all this is over. where did he belong to? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment. as a small animal. and for the time of one moment and breath. had been a Brahman. he felt a cold in his chest. he also awoke to this realization: "But I am no longer the one I was. But now. started to proceed swiftly and impatiently. Siddhartha emerged. he felt it. he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to. Siddhartha stopped once again. as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. suddenly. would return to his home and his father. Siddhartha. a cleric. I am no ascetic any more. already on the path towards himself. For many years. Because suddenly. Still." Motionless. he had been without home and had felt nothing. when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path. he inhaled. regarded as natural and took for granted. of a high caste. Now. I am not a priest any more. There was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen. I am no Brahman any more.very day. he also belonged to a caste. he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. wore the same robe as he. in which he was at home. nothing else was left. only in this moment. he he had every intention. . that he. more a self than before. When he had left in this very morning from the grove Jetavana. and a thousand monks were his brothers. spoke his language. spoke their language. already awakening. Govinda had become a monk. even in the deepest meditation. the awoken one. believed in his faith. who would not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them. shared their life. no worker that did not belong to the workers. out of this moment of a cold and despair. Nobody was thus alone as he was. when the world melted away all around him. his heart felt cold. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening. would when seeing how alone he was." In thinking this thoughts. he had been his father's son. and for a moment. after years as an ascetic. more firmly concentrated. and found refuge with them. who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby. he had also become aware of this: He. the last struggle of this birth. the grove of that exalted one. Siddhartha remained standing there. he was nothing but Siddhartha. No Brahman. Deeply. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides. a bird or a rabbit. no ascetic who would not find his refuge in the caste of the Samanas. and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone. when he stood alone like a star in the sky. all of this is no longer alongside my path. he felt cold and shivered. Now.

Siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. he saw the stars in the sky in their fixed positions and the crescent of the moon floating like a boat in the blue. he saw and became aware of the visible. He saw trees. thus childlike. stream and river. every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea. always the sun and the moon had shone. a thousand-fold and colourful. animals. All of this. did not aim at a world beyond. clouds. high in the branches. the flower and the butterfly. Differently the sun burnt the head. thus to walk through the world. thus childlike. flowers. my cousin in Japan KAMALA Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path. thus awoken. thus without distrust. sought to be at home in this world. and heard their savage. Short were the days. no longer back. short the nights. on the other side of. thus simply. full of joy. the forest and the rocks. no longer to his father. the visible. and under the sail was a ship full of treasures. In a lake of reeds. his liberated eyes stayed on this side. . He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought. but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than a fleeting. beautiful was the stream and the banks. differently the shade of the forest cooled him down. the pumpkin and the banana tasted. birds sang and bees. Beautiful and lovely it was. Beautiful were the moon and the stars. since it was not the essential existence. rainbows. did not search for the true essence. But now. stars. had always been there. and his heart was enchanted. distant hight mountains which were blue and pale. looked upon in distrust. herbs. Siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest. for the world was transformed. wind silverishly blew through the rice-field. At night. always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed. greedy song. differently the stream and the cistern. since this essence lay beyond. Beautiful was this world. the goat and the gold-beetle.heading no longer for home. without searching. SECOND PART Dedicated to Wilhelm Gundert. thus open to what is near. the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning. looking at it thus. rocks. deceptive veil before his eyes.

ablutions. only to the voice. if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. Now he was with it. No. Siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the Garden Jetavana. nor prayer. in fear. On the way. treasure and secret was not the teachings. he had spoken to the exalted one. the teaching he had heard there. neither sleep nor dream. Light and shadow ran through his eyes. in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. both had to be played with. which he had experienced in the hour of his enlightenment--it was nothing but this very thing which he had now gone to experience. Now. so it also was not the thought. Why had Gotama. he had to experience his self. this world of thought was also still on this side. where the enlightenment hit him? He had heard a voice. He wanted to strive for nothing. the scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water. which the pike stirred up. dwell on nothing. which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree. except where the voice would advise him to do so. he was part of it. not to an external command. both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated. every word.he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner. What he had said to Gotama: his. because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. the farewell from Govinda. what he now began to experience. impetuously hunting. he had obeyed the voice. this was necessary. not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. stars and moon ran through his heart. a voice in his own heart. sat down under the bo-tree. this was good. the Buddha's. but the unexpressable and not teachable. . not the rational mind. offerings. and he had not seen it. the young fish jumped in droves out of the water. But never. and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses. neither food nor drink. at that time. Both. the divine Buddha. he had really found this self. and not the spectacle of the senses. nothing else was necessary. the thoughts as well as the senses. wiggling and sparkling. and he had neither preferred self-castigation. he had not been with it. propelling themselves away from it. Again he remembered his own words. both had to be listened to. It is true that he had already known for a long time that his self was Atman. the conversation with the exalted one. not the learned wisdom. With the body definitely not being the self. To obey like this. to be ready like this. All of this had always existed. in the hour of all hours. and with astonishment he became aware of the fact that there he had said things which he had not really known yet at this time. except for what the voice commanded him to strive for. from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them. were pretty things.

In the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river. I am a man without a home. Often I have listened to it." "Do you think so?" asked Siddhartha amusedly. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality. Siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. Siddhartha asked his host. the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut. It intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious. a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. the ferryman. Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda was standing in front of him. Much can be learned from a river. Now farewell! Let your friendship be my reward. It tasted of woman and man." "I did see it. often I have looked into its eyes. to get him across the river. "and I haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear." "I than you. "a very beautiful river. the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. "Yes. a son of a Brahman and a Samana. When the day began. sadly he asked: Why have you forsaken me? At this. though they are the ones who would have a right to receive . and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him. Smiling. when you'll make offerings to the gods. they parted. The ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-raft. he embraced Govinda. Sad was how Govinda looked like. You will give me the gift another time. Commemorate me." he said to his companion. "He is like Govinda. my dear. my benefactor. it was not Govinda any more. at which Siddhartha lay and drank. of every fruit. and in the forest. "all I meet on my path are like Govinda." spoke Siddhartha. of every joyful desire. This too. and also no payment for your work. and always I have learned from it. Samana." spoke the ferryman." he thought with a smile. "This is a beautiful river. of sun and forest. disembarking on the other side of the river.--When Siddhartha woke up. wrapped his arms around him. sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. of animal and flower." Smiling. I love it more than anything. but a woman." said the ferryman. All are thankful. will come back. I have learned from the river: everything is coming back! You too. and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress. "Surely. dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic.

for he felt the need to be among people. carried by four servants in an ornamental sedan-chair. the voice if his innermost self. both male and female. but they all timidly fled from the unknown Samana. On this day. Siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving. Then she got up and came to him. he petted her cheek. and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. begging with desire. were playing with pumpkin-seeds and sea-shells. the traveller came across a small group of servants. children were rolling about in the street. a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. She exchanged humorous banter with him. Looking up. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and . screamed and wrestled. he came through a village. shuddering with awe. he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. While talking. he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat. with contracted pupils. and this voice said No. all charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face. had been the first roof for a long time he has had over his head. All are submissive. In the end of the village. like to obey. as it is the custom among travellers. and the straw hut of the ferryman. which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". When Siddhartha greeted her. all would like to be friends. Siddhartha felt his blood heating up. so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. He called out a blessing to her. and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again. Politely. For a long time. Like children are all people. she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile. he reached the large city before the evening. he saw her face smiling full of lust and her eyes. on red pillows under a colourful canopy. and was happy. he hesitated for a moment. think little. Before the city. Then. sat a woman. the path led through a stream. In front of the mud cottages. asked whether he had eaten already. in which he had slept that night. but since he had never touched a woman before. In their midst. and whether it was true that the Samanas slept alone in the forest at night and were not allowed to have any women with them. turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboo-wood. in a beautifully fenced grove. he had lived in the forests. and by the side of the stream. she put her left foot on his right one and made a movement as a woman does who would want to initiate that kind of sexual pleasure with a man." At about noon. beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. the mistress. while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. And in this moment he heard. carrying baskets.thanks.

watched the parade. a brightly red mouth. long and thin. he allowed the city to suck him in. very smart face. Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was. I am still a Samana. He bowed deeply. with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. I am still an ascetic and beggar. he did not know. he looked at the fair. but he thought about it. When the evening came. When late in the afternoon. beautiful Kamala approached her grove in her sedan-chair. Then. and was told that this was the grove of Kamala. a clear. the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove. he made friends with barber's assistant. The next person who came along this path he asked about the grove and for the name of the woman. whom he told about stories of Vishnu and the Lakshmi. With a smile. the maids. whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building. which made to tower high on her head. saw the servants. read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above. aside from the grove. he saw a very fair. eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch. Among the boats by the river. like a freshly cracked fig. tall neck rising from a green and golden garment. comb his hair and anoint it with fine oil. and that. Thus I am entering this city. drifted through the flow of the streets. and straightening up again. But that servant who walked at the very end of her train he motioned to him and asked him to inform his . Under black hair. she owned a house in the city. he thought. he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair. saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. I must not remain like this. breathed in a slight fragrant. Then he went to take his bath in the river. rested on the stairs of stone by the river. very delicate. and then the servant as well. I will not be able to enter the grove like this. and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance. Now he had a goal. whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu. how distrustful. made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. smart and watchful dark eyes. and his heart rejoiced. he entered the city. resting fair hands. Siddhartha thought. Pursuing his goal. he slept this night. charming face. with a charming omen. And he laughed. when the sedan-chair came closer. before the first customers came into his shop. Siddhartha was standing at the entrance. the famous courtesan. He instantly felt drawn into the grove. the baskets. how despicable. stood still on the squares. how rejecting. and early in the morning.

but they come in beautiful clothes. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground. I have already taken off my beard. But now. when I'm coming across a beautiful woman. "Never before this has happened to me. and left him alone with her. they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. for I know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree. I have left that path and came into this city. oh Samana. even before I had entered the city. where Kamala was lying on a couch. who was following him. greeting me?" asked Kamala.mistress that a young Brahman would wish to talk to her. I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher. the servant returned. There is little which is still missing in me. oh Kamala! You are the first woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. that a Samana came to me with long hair and an old. was you. the son of a Brahman. and long hair. my friend. fine shoes. asked him. and the first one I met. have combed the hair. Kamala." "But didn't you yesterday wear a beard. Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles. And if it doesn't displease you. "Weren't you already standing out there yesterday. without a word into a pavilion. Kamala laughed aloud. How shouldn't I . and he has reached them. and there are also sons of Brahmans among them. After a while. To say this. who had been waiting. how the young men are like who come to me. You shall know." Kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers. I have come to you." At this. oh excellent one: fine clothes. Siddhartha has come to me?" "To tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful. "It's true that I've already seen and greeted you yesterday. to follow him conducted him. they come in fine shoes. And asked: "And only to tell me this. and who has been a Samana for three years. money in my pouch." Quoth Siddhartha: "Already I am starting to learn from you. This is. have oil in my hair. you have seen everything. that a Samana from the forest came to me and wanted to learn from me! Never before this has happened to me. and dust in your hair?" "You have observed well. Even yesterday. I was already learning. torn loin-cloth! Many young men come to me. who has left his home to become a Samana. You have seen Siddhartha.

money. Like this it is. Do you know it now. I have marked your words. pretty clothes. No. which I have set for myself yesterday: to be your friend and to learn the joys of love from you! You'll see that I'll learn quickly. it will be a suitable match for yours. And now let's get to it: You aren't satisfied with Siddhartha as he is. and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it. beautiful Kamala. and shoes. you are so right! It would be such a great pity. a stupid Samana from the forest. someone might come and grab him and steal his learning. I am not afraid of this. Did any Samana or Brahman ever fear. and lots of money in his pouch. with oil in his hair. without money?" Laughing." Siddhartha exclaimed. aren't you at all afraid of the Samana from the forest. the Samana. but without clothes." "No. beautiful girl. if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner. But speak. He could kidnap you. He could hurt you. Kamala. and gifts for Kamala. once he'll have have what he still lacks: clothes. finding it in the street. and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. who has come to learn how to make love?" "Whatever for should I be afraid of a Samana. "How should I not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! Your mouth is like a freshly cracked fig. Kamala. He could force you." Siddhartha bowed with a smile. Clothes are what he must have.reach that goal. but it cannot be stolen. "It would be a pity. No. and his depth of thought? No. receiving it as a gift. he doesn't satisfy me yet. In this. pretty shoes.--But tell me. My mouth is red and fresh as well. I have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me. Samana. which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easily. Siddhartha. he's strong. but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will. Samana from the forest? Did you mark my words?" "Yes. you'll see. nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will return. shoes. precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. buying. without shoes. my dear. for they are his very own. Kamala. lovely Kamala. thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging. who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "Oh. Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth. I shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth. and his religious devotion. you have come up with the wrong path. couldn't you still . it would be a pity. Kamala exclaimed: "No. and he isn't afraid of anything.

More lovely is offering to pretty Kamala.give me one small advice?" "An advice? Why not? Who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor. who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "Dear Kamala. At the grove's entrance stood the brown Samana. I can wait. Kamala kissed him. Would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "I would like to. which revealed itself before his eyes. so that the golden bracelets clanged. he was still to receive. well tested sequence of kisses. and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning. a well ordered. that I'll find these three things most quickly?" "Friend. after he had thought about it for a moment. Deeply. "Beautiful are your verses. and how after this first one there was to be a long. For a long time. rejected him. More lovely. oh brown Samana. You must do what you've learned and ask for money. everyone different from the others. how wise she was. I can also write poetry. and smiling Kamala thanked. he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked fig. ." She beckoned him with her eyes. and with a deep astonishment Siddhartha felt how she taught him. he remained standing where he was. seeing the lotus's blossom. and truly. ignorant Samana. Bowed that man. I'm losing nothing when I'm giving you a kiss for them. these verses: Into her shady grove stepped the pretty Kamala. I can fast. and shoes in return. Kamala loudly clapped her hands." "Nothing else?" "Nothing. many would like to know this. how she controlled him. thus advise me where I should go to. But yes. if I'll like your poem. There is no other way for a poor man to obtain money. than offerings for gods. What would be its title?" Siddhartha spoke. thought the young man. clothes. What might you be able to do?" "I can think. Breathing deeply. lured him.

being given upper garments as a gift. But what will become of you? Aren't you able to do anything else but thinking. At the inn." "The way you're able to kiss. brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path. this I am able to do. he thought. I have read the scriptures--" "Stop. Being accustomed to the forest. remember this! Tomorrow. "There's a visitor for me. and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen. he positioned himself by the door. nobody may see you in here. bracelets. he did as he had been told." "Most people can't. Siddhartha. fasting. Kamala!" stammered Siddhartha. led into the bushes. Contently. I'll see you again. where travellers stay. "You're able to read? And write?" "Certainly. therefore I do not lack clothes. You will also still find use for the magic spells. very good." exclaimed Kamala." said Siddhartha. making poetry?" "I also know the sacrificial songs. carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. without a word he accepted a piece of rice-cake. without words he asked for food. I would give you pieces of gold for them." exclaimed Kamala. he returned to the city. if you want to be Kamala's friend. "but I do not want to sing them any more. a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear." In this moment. he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound. but I do not want to speak them any more." But to the maid she gave the order to give the pious Brahman white upper garments. and all beautiful things. Many people can do this."Very beautiful are your verses. I also can't do it. I can do this. I will ask no one for food any more. "if I was rich. . For you need a lot of money. But it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid. I also know magic spells." Kamala interrupted him. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow. "Yes. Without fully understanding what was happening to him. shoes. Contently. "Hurry and get yourself away. It is very good that you're able to read and write.

when I was still a Samana. and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today. they won't make a person lose any sleep. there he turned up the following day. If he'll like you. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. pride flared up in him. toilsome. you shall become his equal. "when I came to you into your grove. this a small. I told you I knew how to think. From that moment on when I had made this resolution. as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala." she said when they parted. The day before yesterday. he'll accept you into his service. it was no longer becoming to him to beg. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest. you'll see." Siddhartha thanked her and laughed. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become his servant. Everything was difficult. How come? Do you have a spell?" Siddhartha said: "Yesterday. "But where would you be without me? What would you be. But it is useful for many things. "I'm opening one door after another for you. I did the first step. he'll entrust you with a lot. everything is easy. and ultimately hopeless. if Kamala wasn't helping you?" "Dear Kamala.Suddenly. "It presents no difficulties. Be smart. which Kamala is giving me. "They are expecting you at Kamaswami's." said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height. I also knew that I would . "Simple is the life which people lead in this world here. or else I won't be satisfied with you. Now. I was still a shaggy beggar. and to fast. He gave the rice-cake to a dog and remained without food. "You've been lucky. which the likes of you aren't capable of. near goals." "Well yes." He had already discovered Kamala's house in the city long before." she called out to him. brown Samana. He was no Samana any more." she admitted. he is very powerful. he is the richest merchant of the city. easy like that lessons in kissing." thought Siddhartha. to wait. Be polite towards him. If he'll like you. I need clothes and money. and soon I'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon. "Things are working out well. nothing else. Kamala. she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. but you thought this was of no use. I had others tell him about you.

he fasts. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. Siddhartha does nothing. she loved the look from his eyes. "I have been told. Might you have become destitute.carry it out. "that you were a Brahman. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. "as you say. my teacher. it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water. His goal attracts him. She loved his voice. that therefore good fortune is coming towards him. with very intelligent. the host and the guest greeted one another. where he awaited the master of the house. if he is able to think. cautious eyes. that my glance shall please you. I knew that you would help me. he thinks. because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. at your first glance at the entrance of the grove I already knew it. but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water." she said quietly. Siddhartha bid his farewell. everyone can reach his goals. without stirring. Everyone can perform magic. Brahman. that his glance pleases the women. there are no daemons. Nothing is effected by daemons. he is drawn. so that you seek to serve?" . if he is able to wait. that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant. Politely. he waits. friend. a learned man. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal. servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber." the merchant began. Look." "But what if I hadn't been willing?" "You were willing. "Perhaps it is so. a resolution. But perhaps it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man." With one kiss. if he is able to fast. with a greedy mouth. a swiftly." Kamala listened to him. Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water. but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. "I wish that it should be this way. he was directed into a rich house. he lets himself fall. without doing anything. Kamaswami entered. smoothly moving man with very gray hair.

" "But what are you planning to live of.what is it good for?" . the fisher fish. how could you be anything but destitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?" "I am without possessions. But I am so voluntarily." "That's everything?" "I believe. such is life. After all. I can wait. The warrior gives strength. I can fast." said Siddhartha." "Yes indeed. and therefore I am not destitute. what would you like to give?" "Everyone gives what he has." "But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions. being without possessions?" "I haven't thought of this yet. "I have not become destitute and have never been destitute. "if this is what you mean. Everyone takes. Surely." "So it seems to be indeed. everyone gives. the teacher teachings. I am without possessions. sir." "If you're coming from the Samanas. the fasting-. that's everything!" "And what's the use of that? For example." said Siddhartha. For more than three years."No. and have never thought about of what I should live. a merchant also lives of what other people own. the farmer rice. what you're able to do?" "I can think. the merchant gives merchandise." "So you've lived of the possessions of others. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas." "Well said." "Presumable this is how it is. with whom I have lived for a long time. But he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is it that you've learned. he would give his merchandise in return. I have been without possessions.

Clothes were brought to him. thinking is better. When. showed him the merchandise and storage-rooms." "You're right. a servant prepared a bath for him." Siddhartha thanked and accepted. Siddhartha can wait calmly. Being smart is good. For today. but Siddhartha only ate once a day." said Kamaswami. But like this." Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll. a plentiful meal was served. "Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long. when he already took part in . Kamaswami read: "Writing is good. which he handed to his guest while asking: "Can you read this?" Siddhartha looked at the scroll. fasting is the smartest thing he could do. he was never subservient to the merchant." "It is excellent how you're able to write." the merchant praised him. being patient is better. is what fasting is good for. whether it may be with you or wherever. This."It is very good. yes even more than an equal. and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. "Excellent. I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house. for example. When a person has nothing to eat. sir. he knows no impatience. showed him calculations. and every day. the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely. he heard a lot and spoke little. sir. because hunger would force him to do so. he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up. on which a sales-contract had been written down. forced him to treat him as an equal. Siddhartha got to know many new things. Twice a day. and lived in the dealers house from now on. And thinking of Kamala's words. "And would you write something for me on this piece of paper?" He handed him a piece of paper and a pen. Wait for a moment. and began to read out its contents. but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game. but the contents of which did not touch his heart. Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion. and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper. for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it. Samana. Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast. he knows no emergency. Kamaswami told him about his trade. and shoes.

regarding love. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life. every touch. every spot of the body. At one . and that every gesture. and that Siddhartha surpassed him. he'll become more zealous. fine shoes. Much he learned from her red. Then.his landlords business. When he made a profit." he said to a friend. had its secret. and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself. Him. shipping and trade. who was. at the hour appointed by her. when he made losses. still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit. that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love. "This Brahman. there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. when there is a loss. her friend. magic. wearing pretty clothes. became her student. but that he acted in a fortunate manner. or something he has learned among Samanas. But daily." Kamaswami followed the advice. Much he learned from her tender. they never fully become a part of him. every look. but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses. thoroughly starting with the basics. him she taught. he visited beautiful Kamala. and soon he brought her gifts as well. so this one turned out badly!" It seemed indeed. in calmness and equanimity. as if he did not care about the business. he accepted it with equanimity. without one admiring the other. whether this may be a good star of his birth. he is never afraid of failure. about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure. But Siddhartha cared little about this. every caress. the merchant. The merchant passed to duties of writing important letters and contracts on to him and got into the habit of discussing all important affairs with him. her lover. which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. nit with the business of Kamaswami. supple hand. look at this. so that with none of them should start feeling fed up or bored and get that evil feeling of having abused or having been abused. he is never upset by a loss. He always seems to be merely playing with out business-affairs. without being just as defeated as they have been victorious. he laughed and said: "Well. She taught him. however small it was. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool. "is no proper merchant and will never be one. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist." The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits. they never rule over him. smart mouth.

For what else? I have gotten to know people and places. I've had a few good days. If a loss has occurred." "That's all very nice. Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village. Look. if I had been Kamaswami. I haven't learned to . being annoyed and in a hurry. and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. gave copper-coins to their children. or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay." Futile were also the merchant's attempts. and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. But like this. I've neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost. friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner. Whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing. And if I'll ever return there again. he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries. one day. or for whatever purpose it might be. or rather they both ate other people's bread. dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. Nevertheless. and time and money would indeed have been lost. then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path. perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest. to sleep badly. the rice had already been sold to another merchant. that he had wasted time and money. let's be satisfied with one another. to have wrinkles on the forehead. he replied: "Would you please not kid me with such jokes! What I've learned from you is how much a basket of fish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. I would have travelled back. Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him. I have found friendship. treated the farmers for a drink. as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible. Kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away. These are your areas of expertise. nobody knew that I was a merchant. So. children have sat on my knees. leave it as it is. I have gotten to know many kinds of people. But until then. my friend." Siddhartha laughed. "surely I have travelled for my amusement. farmers have shown me their fields." exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly. let me bear that loss. I am very satisfied with this trip. "but in fact. I have received kindness and trust. When. I've learned. all people's bread. a Brahman has become my friend.time. But when he got there. and don't harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come. one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" "Surely. to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. Siddhartha ate his own bread. joined in the celebration of a wedding. when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me. Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger. had joy. my dear. you are a merchant after all. Siddhartha answered: "Stop scolding.

worries. watched them. though being happy and feeling joy at times. and this entire game and the passion with which all people played this game occupied his thoughts just as much as the gods and Brahmans used to occupy them. saw them suffering. he became aware of the strange life he was leading." Indeed his soul was not with the trade. he let them cheat him a bit. and it earned him much more than he needed. for being slightly honoured. was puzzled by him. in learning from all of them. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala. He saw mankind going trough life in a childlike or animallike manner. and turned away from him. consented that he was a little bit right. Besides from this. many to cheat him. he played with his business-deals. he saw them scolding and insulting each other. he pitied. these people brought his way. only as much as he considered indispensable. of him doing lots of things which were only a game. And then. you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me. He was open to everything. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale. he listened curiously and happily. for money. welcome was the debtor who sought another loan. He saw them toiling. many to appeal to his sympathy. At times he felt. towards the next person who would ask for him. As a ball-player plays with his balls. pleasures. welcome was the beggar who told him for one hour the story of his poverty and who was not half as poor as any given Samana. in living with all of them. to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business. for an hour. deep in his chest. which he loved and also despised at the same time. of. lamented quietly. he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile. he made gifts. he hardly perceived it. And there were many who came to him. When Kamaswami came to him. and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel. many to get his advice. many to draw some secret out of him. and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price. my dear Kamaswami. and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. found . quiet voice. real life still passing him by and not touching him. he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana. a dying.think from you. tried to understand him. whose businesses. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them. crafts. for little pleasures. which admonished him quietly. with the people around him. Siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people. many to do business with him. He gave advice.

" "Not all people are smart. he came back to beautiful Kamala. You are Kamala. "that's not the reason why. until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. and tumbles to the ground." Siddhartha said nothing. Few people have this. embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills. really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself. nothing else. but they are all falling leaves. Kamala. are like a falling leaf. . Among all the learned men and Samanas. Most people. "No. "Again. learned the art of love. really to live. "again. who is spreading that teachings. Kamaswami is just as smart as I. chatted with her. a perfected one. in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. you're talking about him. Once. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him. practised the cult of lust. he was not with them. in themselves they have their law and their course. with his heart. there is a peace and refuge. the exalted one. they go on a fixed course. and wavers. you're having a Samana's thoughts. received advice. and yet all could have it. really to act. who are small children with respect to their mind. follow his instructions every hour. But again and again. a few. and they played the game of love. are like stars. with the source of his being. you are different from most people. It is that Gotama. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day. far away from him. rejected him. and inside of you. was knowledgeable of many forms of lust. as I can also do. he who had learned from her how to make love. gave her advice. not in themselves they have teachings and a law. forced him. no wind reaches them. she played with Siddhartha. one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. The source ran somewhere. But others. learned from her. ran and ran invisibly. which is blown and is turning around through the air. had nothing to do with his life any more. enticed him." said Siddhartha. of which I knew many. And at several times he suddenly became scared on account of such thoughts and wished that he would also be gifted with the ability to participate in all of this childlike-naive occupations of the daytime with passion and with his heart. he said to her: "You are like me. and still has no refuge in himself. many secrets.amusement in them. she was more similar to him. there was one of this kind. I'll never be able to forget him. Others have it. For a long time. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter." she said." said Kamala." Kamala looked at him with a smile.

. though without being a part of it. the holy source murmured. You're stronger than others. The people liked him. It was still the art of thinking. of fasting. had slowly become a memory. had tasted lust. except Kamala. had realized this quite right. for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants. people of our kind can't love. in those days after Gotama's sermon. which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth. which used to murmur within himself. had been fleeting. he had learned from his father the Brahman. more willing. His senses.The courtesan bent over him. he had learned from Gotama. you've remained a Samana. bright state of being awake. "I am like you. after the separation from Govinda." Siddhartha said tiredly. and a garden before the city by the river. whenever they needed money or advice. you love nobody. the childlike people. Kamala. still the people of the world. Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. secret knowledge of the self. of waiting. Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust. many things he had learned from the Samanas. had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living. but there was nobody close to him. The childlike people can. At some time. And yet. Isn't it so?" "It might very well be so. being smart. that's their secret. which had grown tired. they came to him. distant and quiet. took a long look at his face. which used to be near. had awoken again. You also do not love--how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps. had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. Nevertheless. which guided his life. he had tasted riches. that tense expectation. Siddhartha. my dear. more supple. surrounded by the good life. when I'll be older. at his eyes. that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart. that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers. and yet you do not love me. nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana. which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana. I'd want to bear your child. He had become rich." SANSARA For a long time. hours of meditation. joy of thinking. "You are the best lover. Years passed by. "I ever saw. You've learned my art well. That high. had tasted power." she said thoughtfully.

as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by. which causes sloth and forgetfulness. with plans or hopes. his mockery had become more tired. made it tired. spices and sweets. with the same disdain which a Samana constantly feels for the people of the world. when he felt insulted. He had learned to play with dice and on a chess-board. filling it slowly and making it rot. even meat and poultry.of his eternal entity. like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree. this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child. he envied them. felt unable to think and tired. the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul. when Kamaswami bored him with his worries. but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. he had learned to wear beautiful clothes. in the morning after having had company the night before. his superiority had become more quiet. the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. when he lost a game of dice. with honours or money. Siddhartha had always watched it with mockery. On the other hand. this out of all things. his senses had become alive. but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. Siddhartha had learned to trade. still turning. These people were all of the time in love with themselves. Just slowly. It happened more and more often that. made it heavy. even fish. with their children. Siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself. He envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had. Many a part of this he still had. But he did not learn this from them. which is neither body nor consciousness. once it has been set in motion. to watch dancing girls. something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. with women. he stayed in bed for a long time. to enjoy himself with a woman. to sleep on a soft bed. When Kamaswami was ailing. envied them just the more. thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism. to have himself carried about in a sedan-chair. But still he had felt different from and superior to the others. His face . It happened that he became angry and impatient. among his growing riches. the wheel of thinking. some mocking disdain. to bathe in perfumed waters. And yet. will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop. to give orders to servants. Just slowly and imperceptibly. the wheel of differentiation for a long time. and to drink wine. He had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food. slowly it filled his soul. Slowly. he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones. Just as a potter's wheel. put it to sleep. there was much they had learned. It happened that he laughed just too loud. to use his power over people. which he himself despised. always he had watched them with some mockery. the importance they were able to attach to their lives. the amount of passion in their joys and fears. the more similar he became to them. when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant. much they had experienced. when he was annoyed.

more clearly and more mockingly. And after each big loss. of a lack of love. hating himself. getting a bit denser every day. which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times. for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness. that Siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things. that terrible and petrifying fear. sloth. won thousands. which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people. gets wrinkles. gets stains. which rich people have. thus Siddhartha's new life. and finally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices: greed. something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated. gets worn off at the seams. his mind was set on new riches. He was a feared gambler. lost a house in the country. disappointment and disgust were waiting. and hidden at bottom. those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people. something like an intoxication. slowly. of sloth. Siddhartha did not notice it. by lust. won again. dull life. had grown old. always increase it.was still smarter and more spiritual than others. a bit murkier every month. and assumed. It was since that time. one after another. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly. tiredness came over Siddhartha. of ill-humour. few dared to take him on. a bit heavier every year. He played the game due to a pain of his heart. which he had started after his separation from Govinda. with an increasing rage and passion. they were no longer a game and trifles to him. He had been captured by the world. while he was worried about losing high stakes. Slowly the disease of the soul. Property. those features of discontent. lost colour and splendour as the years passed by. grabbed hold of him. lost money. lost jewelry. That fear. the merchants' false god. lukewarm. by means of the game of dice. was gathering wrinkles and stains. He only noticed that this bright and reliable voice inside of him. but it rarely laughed. always get it to a slightly higher level. pursued the . when he had stopped being a Samana in his heart. and riches also had finally captured him. As a new dress becomes old in time. that fear he loved and sought to always renew it. of sickliness. so high and audacious were his stakes. covetousness. possessions. Like a veil. Siddhartha had gotten into this final and most base of all dependencies. lost again. mocking himself. and starts to show threadbare spots here and there. loses its beautiful colour in time. On a strange and devious way. threw away thousands. had become silent. already showing its ugliness here and there. which he felt while he was rolling the dice. had become a shackle and a burden. like a thin mist. losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy. in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth.

whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him. Never before. lost his patience when he was not payed on time. words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden. the soul full of reluctance. and Kamala's face had been close to him. Then the time came when a dream warned him. who gambled away tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it. growing tired. Then. he wanted to continue squandering. occasionally dreaming at night about money! And whenever he woke up from this ugly spell. gray hairs among his black ones. lost his kindness towards beggars. he had to tell her about the exalted Buddha. and full of concealed anxiety. With a sigh. how kind his smile. who was only in his forties. an inscription of small lines. she had aroused him. Siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred. whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly." But after this. I'll give him my pleasure-garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings. and from there he fled back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. Then he had lain by her side. how peaceful his walk had been. once more. Tiredness was written on Kamala's beautiful face. here and there. They had been sitting under the trees. as if. forced his debtors more strictly to pay. just as Siddhartha himself. he continued fleeing. how closely lust was akin to death. how still and beautiful his mouth. and Kamala had sighed and had said: "One day. which has no happy destination. had acted as if he was superior to them towards the . she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain. how clear his eyes. He. fleeing into a new game. perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age. In this pointless cycle he ran. because he wanted to continue gambling. I'll also follow that Buddha. perhaps soon. fear of having to die. growing ill. by wine. tiredness and the beginning of withering. as clearly as never before. and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had. growing old. he had bid his farewell to her. talking. read a fearful inscription. and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour. in her beautiful pleasure-garden. had already noticed. and concealed. lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age. fear of the autumn. it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha. biting and in tears. tiredness from walking a long path. For a long time.trade more zealously. became more strict and more petty in his business. continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. and Kamala had said thoughtful words. and could not hear enough of him. Siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine. fleeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex. He had spend the hours of the evening with Kamala. still unsaid. of slight grooves. fleeting pleasure. She had asked him to tell her about Gotama.

by his perfumed hair. so it seemed to him. he felt terribly shocked. a hint of sleep. he gathered his thoughts. Worthless. Not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the first activities in the street before his city-house. when he had obtained praise from the Brahmans. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of . he had a dream: Kamala owned a small. weighed it for a moment in his hand. who at other times always used to sing in the morning. and his heart hurt. Alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. he had slightly fallen asleep. and in his mind. In those moments. who has eaten and drunk far too much. Starting up from this dream. nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. these habits and all of this pointless life and himself. When was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness. had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight. by the flabby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. he was disgusted by himself. by the smell of wine from his mouth. vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief. came to an end in him. worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life. he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. With a gloomy mind. By and by. and in the same moment. he once again went the entire path of his life. the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. several times he had experienced such a thing. his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer. Like when someone. and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain. though this was no longer true. the just too soft smile of the dancing girls. the just too sweet. he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside. repulsive taste of the wine. Siddhartha went to the pleasure-garden he owned. had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness. being tired and yet excited. as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird. He took it out. felt death in his heart and horror in his chest. there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. locked the gate. out in the street. Of this bird. rare singing bird in a golden cage. in an immense burst of disgust. sat and sensed how everything died in him. dull music. But more than by anything else. He dreamt: this bird had become mute. felt a true bliss? Oh yes. starting with the first days he could remember. withered in him. he dreamt. full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm. close to weeping and despair. and since this arose his attention. thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures.fellow-members of his caste. In his years as a boy. nothing which was alive. he has had a taste of it. and then threw it away. sat down under a mango-tree.

nor their worries. the gods are awaiting you. That entire day. for many long years. he felt strong hunger. something had died. for how long had he reached no height any more. For how long had he not heard this voice any more. as a young man.the one who has distinguished himself in the recitation of the holy verses. and again when he had gone away from the Samanas to that perfected one. that he owned a mango-tree. he caught sight of the stars. his farewell to the pleasure-garden. thinking of Gotama. in my pleasure-garden. then again he had." He smiled a little --was it really necessary. goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal. you are destined for. Since he had been without food this day." And again. looking up. had been valuable to him--but was she still thus? Did he still need her. that he owned a garden? He also put an end to this. a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once. and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. was it not as foolish game. when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of Brahman. a dance he would watch. that he could not play it any more. in the midst of the thirst. his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs. as an assistant in the offerings. and in all this. of the table with the . He rose. a comedy. it was not necessary! The name of this game was Sansara. when the night had fallen. thinking of his father. twice. ten times--but for ever and ever over again? Then. was it right. content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satisfied! For all of these many years. when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst in him. Did he have to leave them to become a Kamaswami? He still sat there. when the ever rising. and their goals were not his. When. thinking of Govinda. without a high goal. and thought of his house in the city. so he felt. Siddhartha knew that the game was over. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of you. of his chamber and bed. in the dispute with the learned ones. without thirst. inside of him. Shivers ran over his body. after all. without elevation. upward fleeing. in the midst of the pain felt this very same thing: "Go on! Go on! You are called upon!" He had heard this voice when he had left his home and had chosen the life of a Samana. he sat under the mango-tree. he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many. without knowing it himself. or she him? Did they not play a game without an ending? Was it necessary to live for this? No. that entire world of the Kamaswami-people had only been a game to him. like those children. Only Kamala had been dear. he thought: "Here I'm sitting under my mango-tree. a game for children." Then. bid his farewell to the mango-tree. how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life. this also died in him.

a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? . Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore. the flying bird. a man who was at home nowhere. Kamala had no one look for him. left the city. When she was told that Siddhartha had disappeared. she went to the window. Dead was the bird in his heart. there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him. a sin or foolish act he had not committed. a poison which would numb his senses. a pilgrim? And most of all. From this day on. and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of filth. If there only was a lightning-bolt to strike him dead! If there only was a tiger a devour him! If there only was a wine. that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time. as he had lived it for many years until now. full of misery. was already far from the city. Siddhartha left his garden. given him joy. thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. and knew nothing but that one thing. she gazed after it. full of the feeling of been sick of it. For a long time. that this life. like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. bring him forgetfulness and sleep.meals on it. She opened the door of the cage. shook himself. she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with Siddhartha. Kamaswami had people look for him. But after some time. that there was no going back for him. where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. to be dead. he had dreamt of. full of death. In the same hour of the night. And full he was. When she received the first news of Siddhartha's disappearance. was over and done away with. and never came back. that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. For a long time. he had not soiled himself with. she was not astonished. and that he had tasted all of it. in spite of all the pain of the loss. he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body. and bid his farewell to these things. and she was happy. Deeply. He smiled tiredly. given him comfort. Did she not always expect it? Was he not a Samana. he had been entangled in Sansara. she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. she had felt this the last time they had been together. Dead was the singing bird. took the bird out and let it fly. to have rest. sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. BY THE RIVER Siddhartha walked through the forest.

which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". when he had still been a young man and came from the town of Gotama. a coconut-tree. embraced the trunk with one arm. in order to finally drown. this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and crocodiles. with a slurred voice. this depraved and rotten body. he had reached the end. Then. except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life. answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. in order to let himself fall straight down. without thinking. he slipped towards death. It was a word. which he. before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. spoke to himself. to breathe in again and again. In deep tiredness. there were no more goals. so doomed was he. out of past times of his now weary life. to which goal? No. saw the reflection of his face and spit at it. a sound stirred up. he stared into the water. to throw it away. so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all . out of remote areas of his soul. to sleep again. Yes. let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! With a distorted face. the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans. looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters. this lunatic. to eat again. which ran and ran under him. and looked down into the green water. a syllable. and whatever for should he walk on. to spit out this stale wine. painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream. to breathe out. Siddhartha was deeply shocked. With his eyes closed. except to annihilate himself. this dog Siddhartha. hesitantly he stood at the bank. Tiredness and hunger had weakened him. to feel hunger. Siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder. So this was how things were with him. the same river over which a long time ago. A hang bent over the bank of the river. A frightening emptiness was reflected back at him by the water. to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched Siddhartha's ear. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death.Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible. he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit. the holy "Om". There was nothing left for him. wherever to. there was nothing left but the deep. By this river he stopped. the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for fishes. his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. to sleep with a woman again? Was this cycle not exhausted and brought to a conclusion for him? Siddhartha reached the large river in the forest. a ferryman had conducted him.

the holy word Om on his lips. placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. was strangely well rested. he had really died. all desperation had not brought about. Siddhartha collapsed. sitting in . then he saw a person sitting opposite to him. the weird one. Siddhartha straightened up. which he had forgotten. a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head. he felt as if ten years had passed. into the nameless. and he remembered where he was and how he got here. But it took him a long while for this. knew this self in his chest. and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om. he knew himself. Quietly. that he had been able to seek death. but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed. a thinking of Om. knew the place where he lay. he has come to his senses. Deep was his sleep and without dreams. this wish of a child. speaking which he had fallen asleep. flash. But this was only a moment. infinitely far away. opened his eyes. that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. he knew his hand and his feet. that this wish. did not know where he was and who had brought him here. infinitely meaningless. mumbling Om. but that by a river. this Siddhartha. all sobering realizations. knew about the indestructibility of life. like an early pre-birth of his present self)--that his previous life had been abandoned by him. Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman. full of disgust and wretchedness. when the Om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. a submergence and complete entering into Om. had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no. he spoke the word Om to himself. saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him. had been able to grow in him: to find rest by annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times. previous incarnation. He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it. joyful and curious. and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil. an unknown man. this past life seemed to him like a very old. was renewed. struck down by tiredness. infinitely distant. thus renewed. thus rejuvenated! Perhaps. under a coconut-tree. By the foot of the coconut-tree. he had been thus refreshed. he heard the water quietly flowing. When he woke up after many hours. knew about all that is divine. he had even intended to throw his life away. this was brought on by this moment. the eccentric. for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep. that. strangely awake.knowledge. the perfected.

" "I thank you. oh sir. Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. But now that you're awake." "Farewell. "Permit me to ask. searching. but still his face bore the same features. who had neither hair on his head nor a beard. he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up. Therefore. opened his eyes and looked at him. Govinda was happy to find him awake. expressed zeal. from where do you know my name?" Now." "I'm going. so it seems. when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. Samana.the position of pondering." Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell. though he did not know him. and from our walk to the Samanas. I have served you. The monk stopped. where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. and from the school of the Brahmans. "I have been sleeping. oh sir. you followers of the exalted one. sir. the Sakyamuni. faithfulness." spoke Siddhartha. I have fallen asleep myself. and from the offerings. And then. I. let me go to catch up with my brothers." said Siddhartha. the friend of his youth. I stayed behind from my group and sat with you. Govinda had aged. am a follower of the exalted Gotama. Now you may go then. and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path. I who wanted to guard your sleep. "You're friendly. Govinda. sir. and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted . May you. from your father's hut. "However did you get here?" "You have been sleeping. timidness. oh Govinda. Siddhartha smiled. I sought to wake you up. He observed the man. he too. always be in good health." "I thank you. the Buddha. and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda. sensing his gaze. Badly. Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places. and since I saw that your sleep was very deep. Samana. for watching out over my sleep. "I know you. apparently. sir." answered Govinda. But when Govinda now. tiredness has overwhelmed me." said Siddhartha.

your keen eyes see everything. you've met a pilgrim just like this. It is always like this. forgive me. I . oh Siddhartha. accept alms. what are you now?" "I don't know it. you have observed well." "Right so. is not a pilgrim's hair. I'm on a pilgrimage. my dear. not eternal.one in the grove Jetavana. Siddhartha. my dear Govinda. you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman. I don't know it just like you. and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. I'm recognising you. You're wearing a rich man's garments. Be welcome." "You're on a pilgrimage. today. But. it is as it is with you. Where are you going to. few with such hair." "You're Siddhartha. my joy is great. Siddhartha. with the fragrance of perfume. and what I'll be tomorrow. I'm just travelling. you've seen this quite right. I'm going nowhere. for I have been one of them." said Govinda. and our hair and bodies themselves." "It also gives me joy. anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair. I'm travelling. Siddhartha. move on. friend. to see you again. Never I have met such a pilgrim. again I thank you for this. few in such shoes. being a pilgrim myself for many years. But now. We monks are always travelling. and your hair. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes." "And now. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes. wearing such shoes. But you. because I have been a rich man. to see you again." Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage." Govinda exclaimed loudly. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. though I wouldn't have required any guard. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more. You've been the guard of my sleep. Remember. and I believe in you. my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances. such a garment. you do not look like a pilgrim. where are you going to?" Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too. not the hair of a Samana. Now. oh friend?" "I'm going nowhere. whenever it is not the rainy season." "I believe you. and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage. I'm wearing them. live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us. we always move from one place to another. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana.

and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger. this faithful man. but hunger gave him much pain." "You've lost your riches?" "I've lost them or they me. nor waiting. but he forced himself. there is nothing I could bring about. he did not really feel like it. they had abandoned him. With sadness. he thought of that time. for sensual lust. And now. and yet also with a smile. And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment. They somehow happened to slip away from me. with doubt in his eyes. neither fasting. he had boasted of three three things to Kamala. his power and strength. that he was not able to love anybody or anything. With a smiling face. I have learned nothing. Govinda. now he had really become a childlike person. he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. which had been his sickness before. These had been his possession. In those days. The sleep had strengthened him much. he loved him still. in the busy. which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om. you know it." Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time. he thought. After that. With a smiling face. for the good life. was this very thing that he loved everything. filled with Om! The enchantment. none of them was his any more. . now I'm standing here under the sun again just as I have been standing here a little child. this fearful man. And it was this very thing. And now. for by now he had not eaten for two days. For the most wretched things. for riches! His life had indeed been strange. for what fades most quickly. Siddhartha watched the leaving monk. had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting--waiting--thinking. since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again. that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw. in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep. he had given them up. Siddhartha thought about his situation. so it seemed to him now. I have no abilities. Govinda. his solid staff. nor thinking. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich man? Non-eternal things change quickly. nothing is mine. Thinking was hard on him.don't know. laborious years of his youth. so he remembered. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly. Now. he had learned these three feats. so it seemed. Siddhartha watched him leave. nothing else.

worshipped the eternal in the Atman. As a youth. learned to hunger. learned to love my stomach. through so much disgust and disappointments and woe. wondrous detours it has taken. . learned trading with Kamaswami. was searching for Brahman. to unlearn thinking again. or had he dreamed this? Wondrous indeed was my life. piled up money. I followed the penitents. But as a young man. I've had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts. this path. But what a path has this been! I had to pass through so much stupidity. I had to spend many years losing my spirit. Where else might my path lead me to? It is foolish. and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. insight came towards me in the form of the great Buddha's teachings. my heart says "Yes" to it. he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. in past times. in order to be able to experience divine grace. to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. I had only to do with asceticism. suffered of heat and frost. through so much vices. with thinking and meditation. and singing and being happy through it all. through so many errors. But he could not feed sad about this. But it was right so. and he also saw the river going downhill. I had to sin. I went and learned the art of love with Kamala. no. to forget the oneness. a hundred years ago. Was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself. to laugh about himself. the bird in my chest has not died. He liked this well. to find Atman in me again. kindly he smiled at the river. and as he was saying it. always moving on downhill. I felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood. he even felt a great urge to laugh. his fate had been strange! Things were going downhill with him. Isn't it just as if I had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child. I want to to take it. But I also had to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. and yet. Let it go as it likes. he happened to glance at the river. to be able to live again. taught my body to become dead. foolish world. wasted money. so he thought. that my strength is fading. lived in the forest. and laughed about it. perhaps it is going around in a circle. Wonderfully.How wondrous is this! Now. it moves in loops. to hear Om again. to the thought of suicide. that my hair is already half gray. Wonderfully. "Things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself. to laugh about this strange. I had only to do with gods and offerings. that I'm no longer young. my eyes smile to it. now I'm starting again at the beginning and as a child! Again. just to become a child again and to be able to start over. I've had to experience despair. Yes. I had to become a fool. from a thinker into a childlike person? And yet. As I boy. this path has been very good. he had to smile. soon afterwards. learned to please my senses.

something else from within him had died." he thought. but in my eyes. of excess. there everything smelled of ointments. had he not felt its death? No. as it sang for joy. I have already learned as a child. which has done me so good? Or from the word Om. to know this!" For a long time. to that foolish and dreary life! I praise you. something which already for a long time had yearned to die. that the bird. it was good. well upholstered hell. found joy in himself. good sleep. have done something. poisoned. He had now. How did I hate this world of the rich. in my stomach. that I am finally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? Oh how good is it to have fled. For much longer. never again I will. this I like. Good for me. in my heart. that there is now an end to that hatred against myself. which one needs to know. tortured myself. Was it not this what he . completely tasted and spit out. where I ran away from. devoured up to the point of desperation and death. and that he had not succumbed to it. "It is good. listened curiously to his stomach. delude myself into thinking that Siddhartha was wise! But this one thing I have done well. which was rumbling with hunger. have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! Thus he praised himself.Wherever from. you have once again had an idea. and let his soul die of thirst. made money. this I must praise. after so many years of foolishness. the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all. this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had turned gray. he asked his heart. if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair. wasted money. which I said? Or from the fact that I have escaped. how good to breathe! There. have deprive. That he had felt this despair. And now I know it. he pondered his transformation. in these recent times and days. that most extreme moment. this deep disgust. don't just know it in my memory. Had not this bird died in him. of sloth. this was why he felt joy. he could have stayed with Kamaswami. as I used to like doing so much. to have become free! How clean and beautiful is the air here. listened to the bird. a piece of suffering. Siddhartha. filled his stomach. I have known it for a long time. for much longer he could have lived in this soft. where from did you get this happiness? Might it come from that long. of those who revel in fine food. of spices. but I have experienced only now. That lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things. have made myself old and evil! No. that I have completely fled. so he felt. of wine. of the gamblers! How did I hate myself for staying in this terrible world for so long! How did I hate myself. a piece of misery. "to get a taste of everything for oneself. Like this. when he hang over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. this was why he laughed.

in it the old. frightened. THE FERRYMAN . a dice-gambler. which today had finally come to its death. lose himself to lust and power. a drinker. and was full of joy. to woman and money. and proud self. desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. listened with a smile to his stomach. he had to go out into the world. he had to continue bearing these ugly years. that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. by this lovely river? Was it not due to this death. he had wrestled with for so many years. the teachings. too many sacrificial rules. always working the most. while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. which had defeated him again and again. and decided for himself. always the priest or wise one. the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end. prohibited joy. as if the river had something special to tell him. not to leave it very soon. into this spirituality. which was still awaiting him. always the smartest. Too much knowledge had held him back. as a penitent. always the knowing and spiritual one. always one step ahead of all others.used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? Was this not his self. tired. bearing the disgust. which was back again after every killing. he looked into the rushing river. Cheerfully. But the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water. a new Siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. until the priest and Samana in him was dead. felt fear? Was it not this. that he was now like a child. the new Siddhartha. mortal was Siddhartha. He had died. too many holy verses. He thought these thoughts. listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. Into being a priest. until Siddhartha the lustful. was a child. Siddhartha the greedy could also die. he had been. never before he had like a water so well as this one. he would also eventually have to die. so much doing and striving for that goal! Full of arrogance. mortal was every physical form. Now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right. It seemed to him. had to become a merchant. In this river. Siddhartha had intended to drown himself. Therefore. there it sat firmly and grew. something he did not know yet. Therefore. But today he was young. into this arrogance. his self had retreated. He would also grow old. up to bitter despair. to much self-castigation. so full of joy? Now Siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a Brahman. so full of trust. so without fear. here in the forest. his small. and a greedy person.

he wanted to listen to it. so it seemed to him. he wanted to learn from it." . In a daze he walked on. How did he love this water. would also understand many other things. into the crystal lines of its drawing. which was newly awaking. With a thousand eyes. and was nevertheless always there. stood in the boat. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep. with green ones. He saw: this water ran and ran. divine voices. "It's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself. the river looked at him. with white ones. being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot. thought Siddhartha. my present new life. When he reached the ferry. But out of all secrets of the river. and the same ferryman who had once transported the young Samana across the river. he had also aged very much. how did it delight him. with crystal ones. took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank. the boat was just ready. so rich in secrets. a friendly ferryman had guided me then. Siddhartha recognised him. only felt some idea of it stirring. upriver. which had now grown old and is dead--my present path. He who would understand this water and its secrets. with sky-blue ones. this one touched his soul. shall also take its start there! Tenderly. and it told him: Love this water! Stay near it! Learn from it! Oh yes. he today only saw one. my path had led me at that time into a new life. understand this! He understood and grasped it not. listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it. starting out from his hut. Siddhartha rose. quiet bubbles of air floating on the reflecting surface. he is the one I want to go to. up the path by the bank. was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this. into the transparent green. incessantly it ran. many secrets. the blue of the sky being depicted in it. The ferryman. "Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. a distant memory.By this river I want to stay. listened to the current. it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people." the passenger spoke. all secrets. the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. he looked into the rushing water. how grateful was he to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking.

" For a long time. like to accept these clothes. intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "Ah. and tell me. "At one time. sir. you would soon stop enjoying it. love for this man had stirred in his . most of all I wouldn't want to continue travelling at all. isn't every work beautiful?" "This may be true. where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you." "So be welcome." the ferryman laughed." "You're joking. it is as you say." he finally said. with brawny arms. "I'm not joking. Behold." "Ah. once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. and I was a Samana. sir. to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant. But I envy you for yours. This is nothing for people wearing fine clothes." They had reached the middle of the river. or rather as your trainee. Haven't you've been a Samana? I can't think of your name any more. sir. Siddhartha. Most of all I would like you." "And do you. and remembered. "Now I recognise you. He worked calmly. Wouldn't you. friend. be my guest today as well and sleep in my hut. so I hope. and we parted like good friends. in order to overcome the current. searching. and you've been ferried across the river by me. I have been looked upon today because of my clothes. when you've last seen me." Siddhartha laughed. I have been looked upon with distrust." You will. possibly more than twenty years ago. I have no money to pay your fare. But isn't every life. this was a long time ago. for I'll have to learn first how to handle the boat. ferryman. the ferryman looked at the stranger. which are a nuisance to me. from me? For you must know. and Vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength. his eyes fixed in on the front of the boat. the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful. on that last day of his time as a Samana. My name is Vasudeva. you've slept in my hut. ferryman.With a smile. Siddhartha sat and watched him. Thus. do it today as well. how once before. and accept my clothes for it." "My name is Siddhartha. "Once before.

his own suffering. Afterwards. he knew how to listen." said Siddhartha. his own search. and of his deep fall. after this. Vasudeva. entirely and completely absorbed by it. he let everything enter his mind. And I also thank you for this. and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits. birthplace and childhood. the ferryman listened with twice the attention. Siddhartha. was just listening. and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber. when he spoke of the tree by the river." "You will learn it. and a long silence had occurred. all that searching.heart. there is space and food for both. the speaker sensed how Vasudeva let his words enter his mind. I will also learn in this respect from you. of the holy Om. all distress. Vasudeva listened with great attention. the ferryman asked him to enter the hut. See. for a long time. quiet. he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. her bed was next to mine." spoke Vasudeva. Now. "I thank you and accept. in that hour of despair. how he did not lose a single one. it speaks to you as well. with his eyes closed. lasted his tale. The river has taught me to listen. they sat on a log by the bank. Listening carefully. offered him bread and water. to confess to such a listener. Siddhartha felt. but she has died a long time ago. for listening to me so well! These people are rare who know how to listen. then Vasudeva said: "It is as I thought. you shall live with me. That is good. my friend. Vasudeva offered him. everything can be learned from it. all that learning. Without him having spoken a word. you've already learned this from the water too. But when Siddhartha fell silent. I used to have a wife. and Siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life. did not add his praise or rebuke. But in the end of Siddhartha's tale. that it is good to strive . he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes. the river. waiting. Until late at night. all joy. it was almost the time of the sunset. Stay with me. This was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few. as he had seen it before his eyes today. open. "but not from me. that is very good. And I did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. awaited not a single one with impatience. It is your friend as well. Gratefully." "I thank you. and Siddhartha ate with eager pleasure. to burry in his heart his own life. what a happy fortune it is. When they had reached the bank. I have lived alone. The river has spoken to you. It knows everything. from it you will learn it as well.

Siddhartha. or perhaps you know it already. I'm no learned man. without a wish." he spoke. Incessantly. "let's go to sleep. Let's rest now. without judgement. and the days and months passed quickly. and occasionally they exchanged some words. but like this I am only a ferryman. Most of all. with a waiting. Vasudeva?" Vasudeva rose.downwards. my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. Siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. four or five. and learned to mend the boat. he learned from it to listen. He learned to build an oar. "It is this what you mean. and to all of them. oh friend. he learned from it. and the river was obstructing their path. I might be a wise man. thousands. and the river has become sacred to them. and when there was nothing to do at the ferry. to seek depth. opened soul. The rich and elegant Siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant." he said. and for weddings. he worked with Vasudeva in the rice-field. isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once. "Yes. "Did you. I have no special skill in speaking. rarely. I have transported many. "It is late. as it has become sacred to me. and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle." so he asked him at one time. they have heard its voice. and was joyful because of everything he learned. at the . I have learned nothing else. Siddhartha. and it is my task to ferry people across the river. But for some among thousands. and on pilgrimages. a few. gathered wood. Vasudeva was no friend of words. See. You'll learn that other thing from it as well. he was taught by the river. You'll learn it. But more than Vasudeva could teach him. he lived side by side with Vasudeva. plucked the fruit off the banana-trees. "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" Vasudeva's face was filled with a bright smile. few and at length thought about words. to sink. I also have no special skill in thinking. and to weave baskets. In a friendly manner. to pay close attention with a quiet heart. at the source and at the mouth. I can't tell you that other thing. All I'm able to do is to listen and to be godly. without an opinion." Quoth Siddhartha after a long pause: "What other thing." Siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat. They travelled to seek money and business. If I was able to say and teach it. the learned Brahman Siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. the river has stopped being an obstacle. without passion. they have listened to it.

when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" Happily. of what is eternally taking shape.waterfall. the river has many voices. they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log. in the mountains. then said Siddhartha: "Isn't it so. and of a sighing man." Vasudeva nodded. oh friend. Many travellers. brushed his hand over Siddhartha's shoulder. became almost just as bright. he had spoken. were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time. and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow. "what word it speaks. everything has existence and is present. and of a woman giving birth. but the voice of life." said Siddhartha. his smile became more similar to the ferryman's. Also. Siddhartha's previous births were no past. Vasudeva's face was smiling. and a thousand other voices more?" "So it is. and that there is only the present time for it. Oh. in the sea. And time after time. everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time. silently he nodded. was not all suffering time. nothing will be. turned back to his work. just as alike to an old man's. Often. seeing the two ferrymen." Siddhartha spoke with ecstasy. the voice of what exists. almost just as throughly glowing with bliss. which was no water to them. "all voices of the creatures are in its voice. thought they were brothers. very many voices? Hasn't it the voice of a king. and it was also a river. I looked at my life." Siddhartha continued. and of a warrior. deeply. when the river had just increased its flow in the rainy season and made a powerful noise. "And when I had learned it. at the ferry. this enlightenment had delighted him. as soon as time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? In ecstatic delight. said nothing and both listened to the water. And it ." "And do you know. was not everything hard. And once again. just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles. and of a bull. but Vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in confirmation. everything is. everywhere at once. not the shadow of the future?" "This it is. and of a bird of the night. he bent over to Siddhartha and spoke the holy Om into his ear. just as alike to a child's. and his death and his return to Brahma was no future. Nothing was. at the rapids. not by something real. And this had been the very thing which Siddhartha had also been hearing. not the shadow of the past.

happened from time to time that both, when listening to the river, thought of the same things, of a conversation from the day before yesterday, of one of their travellers, the face and fate of whom had occupied their thoughts, of death, of their childhood, and that they both in the same moment, when the river had been saying something good to them, looked at each other, both thinking precisely the same thing, both delighted about the same answer to the same question. There was something about this ferry and the two ferrymen which was transmitted to others, which many of the travellers felt. It happened occasionally that a traveller, after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen, started to tell the story of his life, told about pains, confessed evil things, asked for comfort and advice. It happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river. It also happened that curious people came, who had been told that there were two wise men, or sorcerers, or holy men living by that ferry. The curious people asked many questions, but they got no answers, and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men, they only found two friendly little old men, who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. And the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. The years passed by, and nobody counted them. Then, at one time, monks came by on a pilgrimage, followers of Gotama, the Buddha, who were asking to be ferried across the river, and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher, for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon die his last human death, in order to become one with the salvation. It was not long, until a new flock of monks came along on their pilgrimage, and another one, and the monks as well as most of the other travellers and people walking through the land spoke of nothing else than of Gotama and his impending death. And as people are flocking from everywhere and from all sides, when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king, and are gathering like ants in droves, thus they flocked, like being drawn on by a magic spell, to where the great Buddha was awaiting his death, where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. Often, Siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man, the great teacher, whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands, whose voice he had also once heard, whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. Kindly, he thought of him, saw his path to perfection before his eyes, and remembered with a smile those words which he had once, as a young man, said to him, the exalted one. They had been, so it seemed to him, proud and precocious words;

with a smile, he remembered them. For a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between Gotama and him any more, though he was still unable to accept his teachings. No, there was no teaching a truly searching person, someone who truly wanted to find, could accept. But he who had found, he could approve of any teachings, every path, every goal, there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal, who breathed what is divine. On one of these days, when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha, Kamala also went to him, who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. A long time ago, she had retired from her previous life, had given her garden to the monks of Gotama as a gift, had taken her refuge in the teachings, was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. Together with Siddhartha the boy, her son, she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of Gotama, in simple clothes, on foot. With her little son, she was travelling by the river; but the boy had soon grown tired, desired to go back home, desired to rest, desired to eat, became disobedient and started whining. Kamala often had to take a rest with him, he was accustomed to having his way against her, she had to feed him, had to comfort him, had to scold him. He did not comprehend why he had to to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother, to an unknown place, to a stranger, who was holy and about to die. So what if he died, how did this concern the boy? The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva's ferry, when little Siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. She, Kamala herself, had also become tired, and while the boy was chewing a banana, she crouched down on the ground, closed her eyes a bit, and rested. But suddenly, she uttered a wailing scream, the boy looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror; and from under her dress, a small, black snake fled, by which Kamala had been bitten. Hurriedly, they now both ran along the path, in order to reach people, and got near to the ferry, there Kamala collapsed, and was not able to go any further. But the boy started crying miserably, only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother, and she also joined his loud screams for help, until the sound reached Vasudeva's ears, who stood at the ferry. Quickly, he came walking, took the woman on his arms, carried her into the boat, the boy ran along, and soon they all reached the hut, were Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire. He looked up and first saw the boy's face, which wondrously reminded him of something, like a warning to remember something he had forgotten. Then he saw Kamala, whom he instantly recognised, though she lay unconscious

in the ferryman's arms, and now he knew that it was his own son, whose face had been such a warning reminder to him, and the heart stirred in his chest. Kamala's wound was washed, but had already turned black and her body was swollen, she was made to drink a healing potion. Her consciousness returned, she lay on Siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood Siddhartha, who used to love her so much. It seemed like a dream to her; with a smile, she looked at her friend's face; just slowly she, realized her situation, remembered the bite, called timidly for the boy. "He's with you, don't worry," said Siddhartha. Kamala looked into his eyes. She spoke with a heavy tongue, paralysed by the poison. "You've become old, my dear," she said, "you've become gray. But you are like the young Samana, who at one time came without clothes, with dusty feet, to me into the garden. You are much more like him, than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami. In the eyes, you're like him, Siddhartha. Alas, I have also grown old, old--could you still recognise me?" Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly, I recognised you, Kamala, my dear." Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son." Her eyes became confused and fell shut. The boy wept, Siddhartha took him on his knees, let him weep, petted his hair, and at the sight of the child's face, a Brahman prayer came to his mind, which he had learned a long time ago, when he had been a little boy himself. Slowly, with a singing voice, he started to speak; from his past and childhood, the words came flowing to him. And with that singsong, the boy became calm, was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. Siddhartha gave him a look, which he returned with a smile. "She'll die," Siddhartha said quietly. Vasudeva nodded; over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire. Once again, Kamala returned to consciousness. Pain distorted her face, Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth, on her pale cheeks. Quietly, he read it, attentively, waiting, his mind becoming one with her suffering. Kamala felt it, her gaze sought his eyes.

with fiery eyes. just as white. saw his own face lying in the same manner. with red lips. "You have found peace?" He smiled and placed his hand on hers. But occasionally. he rose. and she thought that she had now found him in his place. as if she had seen the other one. For a long time. the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves. I too will find peace. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut. tired mouth. and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. Without speaking. which wanted to take. the eternity of every moment. listening to the river. . he observed her mouth. and it's not you. Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. where their goat stood. For a long time. read in the pale face. In the stable. which had become thin. her old. and that it was good. that he used to. he sat. when the final shiver ran through her limbs. whether the boy was sleeping. the indestructibility of every life. quietly his eyes looked at hers. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama." "You have found it. just as quenched out. the feeling of eternity. and he saw the life fading from her eyes. touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time. completely filled every aspect of his being. stepped to the door of the hut and listened. "I'm seeing it. filled himself with this sight. Deeply he felt. For a long time." Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. she looked at him. They've become completely different. but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. in this hour. Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. in order to see the face of the perfected one. and he remembered. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you. and saw at the same time his face and hers being young. just as good.Looking at him. But Siddhartha did not eat. in the tired wrinkles." Siddhartha said nothing. When the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim. in the spring of his years. she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well. When he rose. his finger closed her eyelids. surrounded by the past. She wanted to tell this to him. he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. to breathe his peace. compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig." she said. "You have achieved it?" she asked. and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real. with those lips. more deeply than ever before. "I'm seeing it.

I was listening to the river. Slowly. gave no open look. let's get to work." "You've experienced suffering. Slowly. Siddhartha. and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people. I sat here. accustomed to giving orders to servants. Siddhartha understood that his son did not know him." "Your son shall be welcome to me as well. Siddhartha understood that the mourning. have become even richer and happier now. deeply it has filled me with the healing thought. always picked the best piece of the meal for him. there is much to be done. ." While the boy was still asleep. how should I be sad? I. Pale. with the thought of oneness. my dear. Siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased. he hoped to win him over. he sat for many days by the hill of the dead. "You haven't slept. they built the funeral pile. he also saw and understood that the eleven-year-old was a pampered boy. THE SON Timid and weeping. met his fate with resistance and denial. did not open his heart. he had listened to Siddhartha. he did many a chore for him. Vasudeva. on which my wife had died a long time ago. that he could not love him like a father. accustomed to finer food. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile. even before the sun could be seen. the boy had attended his mother's funeral. Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend. My son has been given to me. to a soft bed. he honoured his mourning. pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. gloomy and shy." "No.Early in the morning. But now." he said. "No. He did not force him. a mother's boy. Siddhartha. who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva's hut. but I see: no sadness has entered your heart. by friendly patience. who have been rich and happy. did not want to eat. Kamala has died on the same bed. A lot it has told me.

know what he is called upon to do. in order to be with his son. stole from Vasudeva's fruit-trees. after all. what path to take. and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. For long months. Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself. Vasudeva waited. But the river laughs. "from a friendly heart. he too is of the eternal life. he also is called upon. Water wants to join water. and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition. "How could I part with him?" he said quietly. Since time had passed on in the meantime. what actions to perform. did not pay his respect to the old men. That young bird is accustomed to a different life. Siddhartha looked into his friendly face. One day. the old men had split the work. did the work in the hut and the field. He has not. ashamed. ran away from riches and the city. "Pardon me. One day. But do we. being disgusted and fed up with it. against his will. but suffering and worry. I'm talking to you. Your son.Rich and happy. the river shall also talk to him. err a . he had called himself. I'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself. it laughs at you and me. For a long time. my dear. is worrying you. to accept his love. when the boy had come to him. I'm seeking to win his heart. you and me. I'm seeing that you're in grief. his pain will be. youth wants to join youth. You too should ask the river. since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart." Vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. you too should listen to it!" Troubled. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut. he too is called upon. and Siddhartha. his heart is proud and hard. Siddhartha waited for his son to understand him. "Give me some more time. Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him. did not want to do any work. your son is not in the place where he can prosper. to a different nest. oh friend. and he is also worrying me. what pain to endure? Not a small one. like you. then Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace. But he loved him." he said. watching. it laughs at me. for long months. in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. he had to leave all this behind. waited and said nothing. I'm fighting for him. I asked the river. people like this have to suffer a lot. when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken both of his rice-bowls. and is shaking with laughter at out foolishness. to perhaps reciprocate it. many times I have asked it. "Oh yes. with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it. my dear! See.

that story about Siddhartha. Very good. admonition? My dear. and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? Don't you force him. the arrogant and pampered boy. he asked: "What do you think should I do?" Quoth Vasudeva: "Bring him into the city. softly. his own search able to keep him safe? Which father. from sin. wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day. But look. and in the world which is his own. into this world? Won't he become exuberant. which teacher had been able to protect him from . "Often. because you know that "soft" is stronger than "hard". Tell me. Vasudeva. my dear: you're not taking control of your son's upbringing? You don't force him? You don't beat him? You don't punish him?" "No. Have you never thought of this?" "You're seeing into my heart. love stronger than force. I don't do anything of this. bring him into his mother's house. burden themselves with much sin. Siddhartha looked to the ground. my friend! Hear it laugh about it! Would you actually believe that you had committed your foolish acts in order to spare your son from committing them too? And could you in any way protect your son from Sansara? How could you? By means of teachings. to whom even rice is a delicacy. from foolishness? Were his father's religious devotion. the ferryman's smile lit up. his teachers warnings. And when there aren't any around any more." Siddhartha spoke sadly. I praise you. but so that he shall be among other boys. that story containing so many lessons.lot. isn't he punished by all this?" Troubled. he touched Siddhartha's arm and said: "Ask the river about it. a Brahman's son." "I knew it. prayer. his own knowledge. bring him to a teacher. But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him. You don't force him. whose thoughts can't be his. how shall I put him. which you once told me here on this very spot? Who has kept the Samana Siddhartha safe from Sansara. and among girls. Water stronger than rocks. I have thought of this. won't he lose himself to pleasure and power. whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced. won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes. do much injustice. don't beat him. from greed. to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters. not for the teachings' sake. won't he perhaps get entirely lost in Sansara?" Brightly. don't give him orders. have you entirely forgotten that story. Quietly. who had no tender heart anyhow. give him to them. there'll still be servants around.

from drinking the bitter drink for himself. late. But this was a knowledge he could not act upon." she had said to him. Vasudeva had spoken so many words. my dear. knowing. had also become completely a childlike person. having become a fool on account of love. you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself. enriched by one thing. he had not already thought and known for himself. to commit foolish acts for the love of another person. from soiling himself with life. friendly. suffering for the sake of another person. lost to a love. Indeed. suffered miserably. and this was. the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. that it was Sansara. now he. in the days of their youth. since his son was here. Had he ever lost his heart so much to something. Siddhartha. had he ever loved any person thus. But now. his fear to lose him. this strongest and strangest of all passions. while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves. this blind love for his son. he could not give up the boy. to forget himself. thus sufferingly. was nevertheless renewed in one respect. suffered from it. He let the boy give him orders. Now he too felt. when the boy's face reminded him very much of Kamala. thus unsuccessfully. it was not . and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star. he let him disregard him. patient. because you love him. he felt at the same time. stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy. Nevertheless. he began the mute struggle of friendliness. as it had seemed to him at that time. because you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you would die ten times for him. dark waters. stronger was his tenderness. from burdening himself with guilt. went troubled into the hut. Vasudeva also said nothing and waited. and yet thus happily? Siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice. They were both masters of patience. At one time. the silent war of patience.living his life for himself. He said nothing and waited. anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? That perhaps your little son would be spared. Vasudeva had told him nothing. he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person. had once said to him. He did sense very well that this love. and was nevertheless in bliss." Never before. never he had been able to do this. Siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which Kamala a long time ago. thus blindly. "You cannot love. once in his lifetime. loving another person. a murky source. could not sleep for a long time. Siddhartha thanked him. from finding his path for himself? Would you think. and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line. Kindly. daily. was a passion. something very human.

But the boy did not leave the hut. soft man. and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile. "I'm not your servant. who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his. every viciousness with kindness. these foolish acts also had to be committed. just as soft. foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. This pleasure also had to be atoned for. Through all this. just as devout. and he openly turned against his father. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him. But the next morning. he had disappeared. He was bored by this father. let him court for his affection. if he had been abused by him. you don't dare. let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. thumped on the ground with his feet. We must build a . This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches. than to become like you! I hate you. a good. and go to hell. you're not my father. Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank. The boat had also disappeared. and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face. he had told him to gather brushwood. that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. "I must follow him. woven out of bast of two colours. You want me to become like you. and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" Rage and grief boiled over in him. I do know. A day came. listen up. this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night." said Siddhartha. every insult with friendliness. clenched his fists. all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. the son let him commit his foolish acts. kind. when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. the boy had made yesterday. that you won't hit me. came from the essence of his own being. perhaps a saint. He'll perish. this pain also had to be endured. He was a good man. this father. The latter had given him a task. just as wise! But I. I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer. just to make you suffer.worthless. "Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth. What had also disappeared was a small basket. I do know. in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. it was necessary. he was bored by him. in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was. perhaps a very devout man. The boy had ran away.

again he saw himself standing there. to get over the water. I see you suffering. He's taking care of himself. Alas. was not worried for his son. Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile. he is no child any more. that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh. he knows how to get around. there was no oar left in the boat. where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. or. just to perhaps see him one more time. on his part." said Vasudeva. When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time. Then they crossed over." "We will build a raft. to look for the run-away. and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. He's looking for the path to the city. "to get our boat back. he's taking his course. he would conceal himself from him. just to satisfy his desire. the pursuer." But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. And he ran up to just outside of the city. Vasudeva. young. But Siddhartha bid his farewell. . He thought. you shall let run along. drifted far off their course. The past rose up in his soul. he stopped. near the city. pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. Either. and he is right. the boy would have thrown away or broken the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. if he should still be on his way. As he continued thinking. Nevertheless. at which you'll soon laugh for yourself. a bearded. the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city. When. don't forget that. And in fact. no longer to save him. Vasudeva did not stop him. which used to belong to Kamala. as if he wanted to say: "Don't you see what your son is trying to tell you? Don't you see that he doesn't want to be followed?" But he did not say this in words. so he thought. Siddhartha.raft. But him. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo. my friend. "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. which the boy has taken away." Siddhartha did not answer. he ran without stopping. He started making a new oar. Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost. he reached a wide road. he also found that he. by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden.

seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. in the dust of the road. experienced emptiness. listened to his heart. and regained his senses. the orgies. filled himself with Om. saw no joy any more. Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish. saw Kamala's song-bird in the cage. that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. felt once again disgust. and since he crouched for many hours. listening attentively. which had made him go up to this place. Clearly. After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time. For a long time. beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. He sat lost in thought and waited. The monks in the garden saw him. no goal. Instantly. saw no images any more. this tender. which had drawn him here following the runaway son. Deeply. he stood there. saw young Siddhartha in their place. and dust was gathering on his gray hair. felt something dying in his heart. receiving his first kiss from her. he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala. then he smiled too. seeing images. He rose and greeted Vasudeva. Instead of the desired goal. He saw Kamaswami. having patience. he sat down. listening. there was now emptiness. into the happy eyes. Now he saw the . which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile. Many an hour he crouched. was once again old and tired. Sadly. looked at the monks. listening to the story of his life. bashful touch. And he sat and listened. The old man did not see him. That this wound did not blossom yet. lived through all this once again. who had followed him. one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. this one thing: waiting. saw the servants. like a wound. the hair full of dust. felt once again the wish to annihilate himself. beating tiredly and sadly.naked Samana. that he could not help his son. This he had learned by the river. he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. From this petrified state. saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. fell into emptiness. pondering. made him sad. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face. he recognised this touch. breathed Sansara. Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden. For a long time. looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism. waited for a voice. And when he felt the wound burning. and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it. let himself fall. that he was not allowed to cling him. without seeing a path. was once again healed by the holy Om. the gamblers with the dice. the musicians. into the small wrinkles. he stood there. he felt the love for the run-away in his heart. at this hour. did not shine yet. For a long time. he silently spoke the Om.

Though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound. even thieves and robbers have children and love them. even became worthy of veneration to him. but solely by urges and wishes. the indestructible. so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes--why don't I? Even bad people. The blind love of a mother for her child. They lacked nothing. he now looked upon people. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter. strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more. their blind strength and tenacity. the stupid. and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him. which was not guided by thoughts and insight. but immensely strong. the wound continued to burn. Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty. Siddhartha lay down on his bed. all of this childish stuff." Thus simply. Neither one talked about what had happened today. less smart. neither one spoke about the wound. After this. to offer him a bowl of coconut-milk. he saw people living for their sake. without thinking: "So many. women. travelling. and when after a while Vasudeva came to him. gave one to the ferryman. less proud. suffering infinitely much. these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them. ate the other one himself.bananas lying in front of him. blind pride of a conceited father for his only son. he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva. picked them up. that what is alive. he felt like them. vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men. In the hut. he understood and shared their life. all of these simple. more involved. it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers. more curious. foolish. became lovable. saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake. OM For a long time. became understandable. warriors. childlike people. each of their acts. businessmen. desires for possession. but instead warmer. strongly living. conducting wars. and he saw none of them without envying him. and he could love them for it. wild desire of a young. neither one mentioned the boy's name. and are being loved by them. he saw life. the Brahman in each of their passions. thus similar to the childlike people he had become. thus without reason he now thought. all of these urges. bearing infinitely much. returned home to the ferry. there . neither one spoke about him running away. all except for me. Differently than before. their vanities. he already found him asleep. When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind. the blind.

a single. a long time ago. It resembled his father's face. Siddhartha ferried across the river. what the goal of his long search was. committed all foolish acts of love. Siddhartha stopped. Slowly blossomed. and in this reflected face there was something. In all other respects. a strange and stupid matter. smiling. something he had forgotten. knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world. And one day. whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people. which reminded him. how he had gone and had never come back. childlike face: harmony. an ability. And he remembered how he. allowed the pain to gnaw at him. in order to hear even better. when the wound burned violently. The river laughed. so it was. Yes. oneness. driven by a yearning. the thought of oneness. which he used to know and love and also fear. which had not . longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son. this flame would go out. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him. he bent over the water. got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul. to think every moment. he found it: this face resembled another face. The river flowed softly and quietly. unrelenting performance of what is necessary. slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation. in some moments. and as he thought about it. were often far superior to them. the knowledge. the Brahman. had to put him above them except for one little thing. which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died. Slowly this blossomed in him. But the wound still burned. alone. while living his life. And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour. seem to be superior to humans in their tough.was nothing the knowledgeable one. as a young man. the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men. Not by itself. the thinker. small thing: the consciousness. it was the dry season. everything came back. but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! It laughed clearly. nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart. this thought was to be valued thus highly. to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. this repetition. was shining back at him from Vasudeva's old. how he had bed his farewell to him. just as animals too can. what wisdom actually was. the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. tiny. whether this knowledge. and he saw his face reflected in the quietly moving waters. a secret art. this running around in a fateful circle? The river laughed. had forced his father to let him go to the penitents. of the thinking and childlike people. after all. it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman.

everything could be said. how he ferried across the water. a childish run-away. it should read "über" instead of "aber". and once he had returned to the hut. that he was God himself. even the most embarrassing parts. To show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river. the same pain was suffered over and over again. of his walk to the city. He presented his wound. he was able to say everything. {I think. tending towards despair. He reported everything. the master of listening. at that time. While he spoke. to show him everything. that he was the eternal itself. that this motionless man was the river itself. cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. and the more he felt it and entered into it. Vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket. of his futile fight against them. of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes.} Alas. Vasudeva's listening gave Siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound. thinking of his son. also told how he fled today. he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to Vasudeva. laughed at by the river. at odds with himself. Siddhartha sat down next to the old man.been suffered and solved up to its end. everything shown. and not just his eyes. came back at him from his counterpart. who was listening to him. While he was still speaking. and not less tending towards laughing along at {???} himself and the entire world. still admitting and confessing. Nevertheless. the more he realised that everything was in order and natural. to say everything. this realisation of Vasudeva's changed character took possession of him. He no longer used the ferry-boat. of his envy at the sight of happy fathers. no longer a human being. how his secret hope flowed over. the less wondrous it became. his eyes were starting to get weak. But Siddhartha want back into the boat and ferried back to the hut. how the river had laughed. spoke for a long time. his arms and hands as well. thinking of his father. willing to walk to the city. that Vasudeva had already been like . while Vasudeva was listening with a quiet face. that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain. slowly he started talking. he sensed how his pain. Siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer Vasudeva. his fears flowed over to him. What they had never talked about. everything he could tell. he felt hope. until it had cooled and become one with the river. of the burning wound. Unchanged and flourishing was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. his heart was still fighting his fate. the wound was not blossoming yet. he now told him of.

a stream. It still resounded. the river. good and bad voices. Thorough all this. each one obsessed by the goal. that he was now seeing old Vasudeva as the people see the gods. which had grown slightly weak. the lake." he said. For the goal. each one heading for his goal. that he himself had almost reached the same state. a hundred voices. let his silent love and cheerfulness. and other images. you'll hear more. being the river. the rapids. and that this could not last. towards goals. lonely. laughing and sad ones. it flowed towards its goal. singing in many voices. Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. said nothing. Softly sounded the river. The image of his father. longingly it sang. suffering. The river sang with a voice of suffering. lamentingly its voice sang. He felt. he himself appeared. full of unsatisfiable desire. led him to the seat by the bank. smiled at the river. he started bidding his farewell to Vasudeva. that only he had not quite recognised it. He took Siddhartha's hand. his own image. he talked incessantly. suffering. Siddhartha nodded. and all goals were reached. his son appeared. turned all into the river. and the river's voice sounded full of yearning. "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. Siddhartha saw it hurrying. the boy. yes. When he had finished talking. . headed all. Vasudeva turned his friendly eyes. for the goal. a river. the river was heading. lonely. which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people. voices of joy and of suffering. "You've heard it laugh. and the image of Govinda. and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared. almost forever. he had ever seen. shine at him. in his heart. mourning for his son. many goals. understanding and knowledge.this for a long time. headed forward once again. But the longing voice had changed. sat down with him. Let's listen. longing. Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed. at him. all of these waves and waters were hurrying. turned into a source. searching. the sea. turned into rain and poured down from the sky. lonely as well. longingly. flowed on once again. "But you haven't heard everything. each one suffering. desiring. greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes. but other voices joined it. and every goal was followed by a new one. he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son. full of suffering. the waterfall. and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky." They listened. the image of his son merged. and they merged with each other. Siddhartha looked into the water. full of burning woe.

this song of a thousand voices. let me leave. with the current of life. in this careful and tender manner. all of this together was the world. I've been waiting for this hour. all voices. these many voices in the river. completely concentrated on listening. everything was intertwined and connected. that he had now finished learning to listen. For a long time. when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter. hut. full of sympathy for the pleasure of others. the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one. belonging to the oneness. Now it's enough. he had heard all this. completely empty. which is no longer opposed by any will. farewell. I've been Vasudeva the ferryman. all goals. and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on Siddhartha's face as well. He was now nothing but a listener. they all belonged together. was the music of life. Brightly. In this hour. as the Om was floating in the air over all the voices of the river. All of it together was the flow of events. perceived the whole. my dear. Vasudeva's smile was shining. today it sounded new. farewell. river. On his face flourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge. devoted to the flow. which knows perfection. all yearning. when he looked into Siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them. for a long time. the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones. and said: "I've been waiting for this hour. Siddhartha!" . Now that it has come. he could no longer tell the many voices apart. but when he heard them all. his suffering was shining. he felt. Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate. not the happy ones from the weeping ones. Siddhartha listened.a thousand voices. entangled a thousand times. when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river. Farewell. "Do you hear. floating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face. Already. not the ones of children from those of men. full of sympathy for the pain of others. which is in agreement with the flow of events. when he looked at his friend. which was Om: the perfection." Vasudeva's gaze asked again. his self had flown into the oneness. all that was good and evil. stopped suffering. he softly touched his shoulder with his hand. all pleasure. all suffering. His wound blossomed. And everything together. everything was one. Brightly his smile was shining. Often before. When Vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank. the oneness. then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word.

saw his steps full of peace. have been searching. ferryman." he said quietly. he left. oh venerable one. though you are already of an old in years and are wearing the robe of Gotama's monks?" "It's true. I'm old. which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. When Govinda went back on his way. He came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over. Siddhartha watched him leaving. you have already ferried many of us across the river. and who was regarded as a wise man by many. Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-grove. so it seems to me. GOVINDA Together with other monks. with deep solemnity he watched him leave. oh venerable one? Perhaps that you're searching far too much? That in all that searching. With deep joy. I'm going into the oneness. Because. you don't find the time for finding?" . saw his head full of lustre." spoke Vasudeva with a bright smile. With a bright smile. "I've known it. Aren't you too. eager to see the ferryman. oh honourable one?" Quoth Siddhartha: "What should I possibly have to tell you.Siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty. You too. and when they got off the boat on the other side. he said to the old man: "You're very good to us monks and pilgrims. Would you like to tell me something. "but I haven't stopped searching. this seems to be my destiny. smiling from his old eyes: "Do you call yourself a searcher. "You'll go into the forests?" "I'm going into the forests. He heard talk of an old ferryman. saw his body full of light. the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. a searcher for the right path?" Quoth Siddhartha. though he had lived his entire life by the rules." spoke Govinda. he chose the path to the ferry. Never I'll stop searching. who lived one day's journey away by the river.

and have sat down with him to guard his sleep. Govinda. being open. many years ago. there are many things you don't see. as if he had been the object of a magic spell. started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. from my heart.--And so you've now become a ferryman?" In a friendly manner. Siddhartha laughed. Many people. Siddhartha. my dear. oh Govinda. "When someone is searching. in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest. and spend the night in my hut. because he is obsessed by the goal." Govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed which used to be Vasudeva's bed. Do you have a teaching? Do you have a faith. Be welcome. have to change a lot." Astonished. Searching means: having a goal. because. Many questions he posed to the friend of his youth. because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search. having no goal. Siddhartha." asked Govinda. not without hesitation. have to wear many a robe. "I wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! From my heart. I'm happy to see you once again! You've changed a lot. I'm greeting you. When in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey. you follow. But. oh venerable one. Govinda said. Govinda. the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river. "A ferryman. permit me to ask one more question. striving for your goal. "then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for. these words: "Before I'll continue on my path. are perhaps indeed a searcher. But finding means: being free. because he has a goal. that he is unable to find anything. that I already as a young man. "what do you mean by this?" Quoth Siddhartha: "A long time ago." said Siddhartha. "Are you Siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice."How come?" asked Govinda. which are directly in front of your eyes. You. which helps you to live and to do right?" Quoth Siddhartha: "You know. I am one of those. or a knowledge. I have . you did not recognise the sleeping man. my friend. yes." "I don't quite understand yet. oh venerable one. my dear. to let anything enter his mind. many things Siddhartha had to tell him from his life.

But most of all. When the exalted Gotama spoke in his teachings of the world. for an hour or for an entire day. it can be lived. again and again. There have been many thoughts. there is no other way for him who wants to teach. has been my teacher. miracles can be performed with it. Knowledge can be conveyed. But the world itself. and a rich merchant was my teacher. I'm telling you what I've found. is never one-sided. I have learned here from this river and from my predecessor. very grateful. you would delight my heart. but it cannot be expressed in words and taught. what exists around us and inside of us. but it would be hard for me to convey them to you. which I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. A person or an act is never entirely Sansara or entirely Nirvana. I have found a thought. Sometimes. A beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time. but not wisdom." Quoth Siddhartha: "I've had thoughts. . what has driven me away from the teachers. you love a bit to mock people. I have had many teachers since then. but he knew what is necessary just as well as Gotama. certain insights. it's all one-sided. which are your own and which help you to live? If you would like to tell me some of these. sometimes suspected. a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness. But haven't you found something by yourself. roundness. this is one of my thoughts." "Are you kidding?" asked Govinda. and insight. It does really seem like this. and some gamblers with dice. all lacks completeness. Vasudeva. It cannot be done differently. yes. I believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. as one would feel life in one's heart. Nevertheless. "I'm not kidding. it is possible to be carried by it. Everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words. on the pilgrimage. oh Siddhartha. Govinda. It says: The opposite of every truth is just as true! That's like this: any truth can only be expressed and put into words when it is one-sided. even a follower of Buddha. Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness. he had to divide it into Sansara and Nirvana. but which is my best thought. my dear Govinda. Look. a saint. Once. all just one half. into deception and truth. It can be found. though you've found no teachings. I have felt knowledge in me. He was a very simple person. I've also learned from him. into suffering and salvation. the ferryman Vasudeva. he sat with me when I had fallen asleep in the forest. even as a young man. This was what I. I'm also grateful to him.stuck with this. he was a perfect man. as it seems to me. you still found certain thoughts. travelling on foot." Govinda said: "Still. he was no thinker. oneness.

it is perfect in every moment. "Listen well. It is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path. as if time was something real. will be Buddha--and now see: these "times to come" are a deception. I see whatever exists as good. to do nothing but work for my benefit. within the sinner is now and today already the future Buddha. in you. "This here. he will reach the Nirvana. No. all small children already have the old person in themselves. everything has to be as it is. "is a stone. the possible." "How come?" asked Govinda timidly. all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself. there is the possibility to put time out of existence. and will turn from soil into a . but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it. which I am and which you are. the desire for possessions. only my willingness. The world. to be good for me. his future is already all there. death is to me like life. or on a slow path towards perfection: no. my friend Govinda. all dying people the eternal life. oh Govinda. my dear. In deep meditation. to be unable to ever harm me. and will be as if it was simultaneous.because we are subject to deception. picked up a stone from the ground. are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind. some kind of perfection I had made up. to see all life which was. in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished. And if time is not real." Siddhartha bent down. though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. in the Brahman. vanity. the Buddha is waiting. I needed lust. wisdom like foolishness. in order to learn how to give up all resistance. and needed the most shameful despair. then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity. I have experienced this often and often again. you have to worship in him. the robber is waiting. perhaps turn into soil. Time is not real. everything only requires my consent." he said playing with it. between evil and good.--These. all infants already have death. is a sinner. the hidden Buddha. in order to learn how to love the world. sin like holiness. are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha. everything is Brahman. is not imperfect. in the robber and dice-gambler. my loving agreement. and weighed it in his hand. in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being. after a certain time. but in times to come he will be Brahma again. and there everything is good. everything is perfect. I imagined. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much. between suffering and blissfulness. Govinda. is also a deception. is. Therefore. listen well! The sinner. he is not in the process of developing. and will.

it is worthless. and this is also very good. There are stones which feel like oil or soap. and things can be loved. no edges. gets distorted a bit. perhaps it are the many words. Govinda. In the past. as soon as it is put into words. my friend. this is why I love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities.plant or animal or human being. But I cannot love words." Siddhartha continued: "A thought. there is just the word Nirvana. "Why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. therefore I also grant it importance. that it appears to me now and today as a stone. a bit silly--yes. that it is a stone. and also a tree or a piece of bark. they have no hardness. . each one is Brahman. and every one is special and prays the Om in its own way. everything always becomes a bit different. it is also Buddha. are mere words. and I like it a lot. "I did it without any specific intention. and this is this very fact which I like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship. in the dryness or wetness of its surface. Thus. I would perhaps have thought in the past. no taste. it belongs to the world of the Maja. There is no thing which would be Nirvana. Perhaps it are these which keep you from finding peace. in the gray. but rather because it is already and always everything-and it is this very fact. is oily or juicy. I do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that. and the river. It is a thought. no smell. Or perhaps what I meant was. Govinda." Govinda listened silently. it might be so.--But let me speak no more of this. my dear: I don't differentiate much between thoughts and words. Sansara and Nirvana as well. and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn. I can love a stone. it is also animal. in the sound it makes when I knock at it. no colours. in the hardness. The words are not good for the secret meaning. I would have said: This stone is just a stone. and others like leaves. others like sand. is Nirvana. I also very much agree with this. no softness. I must confess to you. Because salvation and virtue as well." Quoth Govinda: "Not just a word. that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person. they have nothing but words. in the yellow. but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations. But today I think: this stone is a stone. but simultaneously and just as much it is a stone. Therefore. it is also god. that love this very stone. teachings are no good for me. This are things.

But when this holy man went into the forests. How should he not know love. for instance. not to hate it and me. he knew everything. a man has been my predecessor and teacher. clemency. to despise it. every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. "I know it. This is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. Therefore. "But this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception." said Siddhartha." Govinda said: "But is that what you call `things'. seems to me to be the most important thing of all. And this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love. sympathy. I prefer the thing over the words. to teach them! Even with him. tolerance. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world. every bird. he learned from it. even with your great teacher. without books. He had noticed that the river's spoke to him. more on the . laborious life only to help them." "This I understand. it educated and taught him. every cloud. your river-are they actually a reality?" "This too. "I do not care very much about. Let the things be illusions or not. for I know. who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness. Govinda. to use a long. to explain it. place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches. not to despise it. a holy man. a seeming contradiction with Gotama's words. I have a better opinion of things.To be honest. he. in the dispute about words. I know that I am in agreement with Gotama. with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions. may be the thing great thinkers do. the river seemed to be a god to him. I distrust in words so much. And behold. he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things. knew more than you and me." "I know it. For this very reason. He commands benevolence. only because he had believed in the river. but not love. and yet loved people thus much. for many years he did not know that every wind. to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect. without teachers. To thoroughly understand the world. Here on this ferry-boat. after all I would then also be an illusion. oh Govinda. your tree. For I cannot deny." spoke Siddhartha. in their meaninglessness. just an image and illusion? Your stone." spoke Govinda. who has for many years simply believed in the river. my words of love are in a contradiction. and thus they are always like me. this contradiction is a deception. actually something real. something which has existence? Isn't it just a deception of the Maja. I also have no high opinion of thoughts. his smile shone golden. nothing else. I can love them.

may his words sound foolish. never since then have I met a person of whom I felt: this is a holy man! Only him. nothing strange. Govinda stared at his face. this Siddhartha. his teachings sound foolish. shines a calmness. Siddhartha. suffering." Siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged. which I have seen in no other person since the final death of our exalted teacher. oh honourable one. But different from his thoughts seemed to me Siddhartha's hands and feet. So differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings." (But secretly he thought to himself: This Siddhartha is a bizarre person. his smile. for telling me some of your thoughts. It is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. May his teachings be strange. one more word. beloved. his skin and his hair. "Siddhartha. and yet drawn by great love and . Never again. "Bend down to me! Like this. It it often hard. while bowing for a farewell: "I thank you. even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead. my path. out of every part of him shines a purity. Siddhartha. Siddhartha saw it and smiled. in his life. more comprehensible. "we have become old men. out of his gaze and his hand. I thank you.) As Govinda thought like this. his greeting. Govinda!" But while Govinda with astonishment. his breath. Deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. drawn by love. This being as it may. and I wish you to have calm days. that you have found peace. quiet smile. I see his greatness." he spoke." For a long time. only in his actions. with fear. after our exalted Gotama has become one with the Nirvana. Not in his speech. not all have been instantly understandable to me. or silly is contained in them. give me something on my way which I can grasp. I have found to be like this. foolish. purer. clearer. he once again bowed to Siddhartha. not in his thoughts. eternal not-finding. with yearning. often dark. his walk. which I can understand! Give me something to be with me on my path. shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness. Tell me. he expresses bizarre thoughts.gestures of his hand than his opinions. his eyes. and there was a conflict in his heart. They are partially strange thoughts. the two old men said nothing. and the eternal search was visible in his look. his forehead. I see. Then spoke Govinda. I confess that I haven't found it. "Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear.

expectation, obeyed his words, bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips, something miraculous happened to him. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words, while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time, to imagine Nirvana and Sansara as one, while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was fighting in him against an immense love and veneration, this happened to him: He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha, instead he saw other faces, many, a long sequence, a flowing river of faces, of hundreds, of thousands, which all came and disappeared, and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously, which all constantly changed and renewed themselves, and which were still all Siddhartha. He saw the face of a fish, a carp, with an infinitely painfully opened mouth, the face of a dying fish, with fading eyes--he saw the face of a new-born child, red and full of wrinkles, distorted from crying--he saw the face of a murderer, he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person--he saw, in the same second, this criminal in bondage, kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword--he saw the bodies of men and women, naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love--he saw corpses stretched out, motionless, cold, void-he saw the heads of animals, of boars, of crocodiles, of elephants, of bulls, of birds--he saw gods, saw Krishna, saw Agni--he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another, each one helping the other, loving it, hating it, destroying it, giving re-birth to it, each one was a will to die, a passionately painful confession of transitoriness, and yet none of them died, each one only transformed, was always re-born, received evermore a new face, without any time having passed between the one and the other face--and all of these figures and faces rested, flowed, generated themselves, floated along and merged with each other, and they were all constantly covered by something thin, without individuality of its own, but yet existing, like a thin glass or ice, like a transparent skin, a shell or mold or mask of water, and this mask was smiling, and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face, which he, Govinda, in this very same moment touched with his lips. And, Govinda saw it like this, this smile of the mask, this smile of oneness above the flowing forms, this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths, this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same, was precisely of the same kind as the quiet, delicate, impenetrable, perhaps benevolent, perhaps mocking, wise, thousand-fold smile of Gotama, the Buddha, as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. Like this, Govinda knew, the perfected ones are smiling. Not knowing any more whether time existed, whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years, not knowing any more whether there existed

a Siddhartha, a Gotama, a me and a you, feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow, the injury of which tasted sweet, being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self, Govinda still stood for a little while bent over Siddhartha's quiet face, which he had just kissed, which had just been the scene of all manifestations, all transformations, all existence. The face was unchanged, after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again, he smiled silently, smiled quietly and softly, perhaps very benevolently, perhaps very mockingly, precisely as he used to smile, the exalted one. Deeply, Govinda bowed; tears he knew nothing of, ran down his old face; like a fire burnt the feeling of the most intimate love, the humblest veneration in his heart. Deeply, he bowed, touching the ground, before him who was sitting motionlessly, whose smile reminded him of everything he had ever loved in his life, what had ever been valuable and holy to him in his life.

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