Siddartha by Herman Hesse | Gautama Buddha | Ātman (Hinduism)

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This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Siddhartha Author: Herman Hesse Translator: Gunther Olesch, Anke Dreher, Amy Coulter, Stefan Langer and Semyon Chaichenets Release Date: April 6, 2008 [EBook #2500] Last updated: July 2, 2011 Last updated: January 23, 2013 Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF SIDDHARTHA *** THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK

Produced by Michael Pullen, Jones

Chandra Yenco, Isaac

SIDDHARTHA
An Indian Tale

by Hermann Hesse

Contents
FIRST PART
THE SON OF THE BRAHMAN WITH THE SAMANAS GOTAMA AWAKENING

SECOND PART
KAMALA WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE SANSARA BY THE RIVER THE FERRYMAN THE SON OM GOVINDA

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

not a vain. when Siddhartha would become a god. Siddhartha. was not a source of joy for himself. the splendid. he found no delight in himself. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman. not a lazy official in charge of offerings. washing his . his companion. sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation. the beloved. fiery thoughts. as well did not want to become one of those. Walking the rosy paths of the fig tree garden. stupid sheep in the herd of the many. his servant. and also not a decent. his shadow. No. he loved everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit. when he would join the glorious. and he. his transcendent. not a greedy merchant with magic spells. But he. then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend. Govinda. his spear-carrier. not a mean. He was a source of joy for everybody. deceitful priest. And in days to come. his ardent will.movements. Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. his high calling. He wanted to follow Siddhartha. vacuous speaker. he was a delight for them all.

flowing from the water of the river. everyone's love and joy. fuming from the sacrifices. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind. that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom. Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself. the soul was not calm. but they .limbs daily in the bath of repentance. sacrificing in the dim shade of the mango forest. sparkling from the stars of the night. the spirit was not content. that they had already filled his expecting vessel with their richness. he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother. feed him. Govinda. drop by drop. would not bring him joy for ever and ever. from the teachings of the old Brahmans. and also the love of his friend. he still lacked all joy in his heart. satisfy him. being infused into him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers. would not nurse him. dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul. The ablutions were good. the heart was not satisfied. and the vessel was not full. melting from the beams of the sun. his gestures of perfect decency. breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-Veda.

there was another way. this innermost part. where did He reside. they did not wash off the sin. So. the only one. myself. He. created like me and you. where was it? To reach this place. the self. which everyone had in himself? But where. where was this self. was it right. they did not relieve the fear in his heart. where did his eternal heart beat. the Atman. who else was to be worshipped but Him. which was . subject to time. where. thus the wisest ones taught. the singular one? Were the gods not creations. they did not heal the spirit's thirst. was it meaningful and the highest occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made. mortal? Was it therefore good. it was neither thought nor consciousness. where else but in one's own self. the Atman? And where was Atman to be found. 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. the only one. in its indestructible part.were water. this ultimate part? It was not flesh and bone. in its innermost part.

spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing. the creation of the world. they knew infinitely much—but was it valuable to know all of this. of exhaling. they had taken care of everything and of more than everything. the Brahmans and their holy books. would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman.worthwhile looking for? Alas. the most important thing. all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words. many verses of the holy books. and not the teachers and wise men. "Your soul is the whole world". the solely important thing? Surely. particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda. the arrangement of the senses. was written there. of food. not the father. not the holy sacrificial songs! They knew everything. and it was written that man in his sleep. of inhaling. they knew everything. in his deep sleep. the acts of the gods. wonderful verses. not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of . nobody knew it. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses. the origin of speech. and nobody showed this way. not knowing that one and only thing. pure as honey collected by bees. No.

quiet and noble were his manners. was he not also just a searching man. strive for a cleansing every day. the most venerable one. over and over every day? Was not Atman in him. the scholar. did he live in blissfulness. 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. into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans. have to wash off sins every day. did not the .enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans. who knew so much. from the offerings. into every step of the way. delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow —but even he. into the life. a thirsty man? Did he not. as a thirsty man. the pure one. where the priests. wise his words. again and again. the irreproachable one. have to drink from holy sources. did he have peace.— But where were the Brahmans. chiefly his father. pure his life. from the books. where the wise men or penitents. His father was to be admired. from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he.

" Often. will enter the heavenly world every day. And among all the wise and wisest men.pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found. among all of them there was no one. this was his thirst. was a detour. they sat down." Siddhartha spoke to his friend. the heavenly world. the heavenly world." They went to the Banyan tree. it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching. ready to speak . my dear. Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-Upanishad the words: "Truly. Siddhartha right here. the name of the Brahman is satyam— verily. but never he had reached it completely. who had quenched it completely. Govinda twenty paces away. the eternal thirst. "Govinda. never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. he who knows such a thing. it seemed near. he knew and whose instructions he had received. "Govinda. this was his suffering. let's practise meditation. Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts. come with me under the Banyan tree. While putting himself down. who had reached it completely. the pristine source in one's own self. was getting lost.

the Om, Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: Om is the bow, the arrow is soul, The Brahman is the arrow's target, That one should incessantly hit. After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed, Govinda rose. The evening had come, it was time to perform the evening's ablution. He called Siddhartha's name. Siddhartha did not answer. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought, his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target, the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth, he seemed not to breathe. Thus sat he, wrapped up in contemplation, thinking Om, his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow. Once, Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town, ascetics on a pilgrimage, three skinny, withered men, neither old nor young, with dusty and bloody shoulders, almost naked, scorched by the sun, surrounded by loneliness, strangers and enemies to the world, strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. Behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion, of destructive service, of merciless self-denial.

In the evening, after the hour of contemplation, Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: "Early tomorrow morning, my friend, Siddhartha will go to the Samanas. He will become a Samana." Govinda turned pale, when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend, unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. Soon and with the first glance, Govinda realized: Now it is beginning, now Siddhartha is taking his own way, now his fate is beginning to sprout, and with his, my own. And he turned pale like a dry banana-skin. "O Siddhartha," he exclaimed, "will your father permit you to do that?" Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. Arrowfast he read in Govinda's soul, read the fear, read the submission. "O Govinda," he spoke quietly, "let's not waste words. Tomorrow, at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. Speak no more of it." Siddhartha entered the chamber, where his father was sitting on a mat of bast, and stepped behind his father and remained standing there, until

his father felt that someone was standing behind him. Quoth the Brahman: "Is that you, Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say." Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission, my father. I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. My desire is to become a Samana. May my father not oppose this." The Brahman fell silent, and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions, 'ere the silence was broken. Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded, silent and motionless sat the father on the mat, and the stars traced their paths in the sky. Then spoke the father: "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words. But indignation is in my heart. I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth." Slowly, the Brahman rose; Siddhartha stood silently, his arms folded. "What are you waiting for?" asked the father. Quoth Siddhartha: know what." "You

Indignant, the father left the chamber; indignant, he went to his bed and lay down. After an hour, since no sleep had come over his eyes, the Brahman stood up, paced to and fro, and left the house. Through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside, and there he saw Siddhartha standing, his arms folded, not moving from his spot. Pale shimmered his bright robe. With anxiety in his heart, the father returned to his bed. After another hour, since no sleep had come over his eyes, the Brahman stood up again, paced to and fro, walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen. Through the window of the chamber he looked back inside; there stood Siddhartha, not moving from his spot, his arms folded, moonlight reflecting from his bare shins. With worry in his heart, the father went back to bed. And he came back after an hour, he came back after two hours, looked through the small window, saw Siddhartha standing, in the moon light, by the light of the stars, in the darkness. And he came back hour after hour, silently, he looked into the chamber, saw him standing in the same

"Siddhartha." "Will you always stand that way and wait. than obey your father?" "Siddhartha has obeyed his father. who seemed tall and like a stranger to him." always "So will you abandon your plan?" . he returned. before the day began. filled it with sadness. saw the young man standing there." he spoke. filled his heart with anguish. And in the night's last hour. noon." "I will die." "You will die. until it'll becomes morning.place. Siddhartha. "You will become tired. "I will not fall asleep. filled his heart with anger. stepped into the room." "You will Siddhartha." "And would you rather die. and evening?" "I will stand and wait." fall asleep. "what are you waiting for?" "You know what." "I will become tired. filled his heart with unrest. Siddhartha.

bowed to his father. He put his limbs back under control. But for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the first ablution. and went to his mother to do as his father had said. his eyes were fixed on a distant spot." The first light of day shone into the room." he spoke. as he tried to walk. When you'll have found blissfulness in the forest. The Father touched Siddhartha's shoulder. tell her where you are going to. that he had already left him. . Siddhartha wavered to the side." He took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. "You will. Go now and kiss your mother. In Siddhartha's face he saw no trembling. then come back and teach me to be blissful. then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together."Siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do. If you'll find disappointment. Then his father realized that even now Siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home. "go into the forest and be a Samana. The Brahman saw that Siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees.

His glance turned . who had crouched there. The flesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. and joined the pilgrim—Govinda. come. and offered them their companionship and— obedience." Siddhartha and smiled. unsown cloak.As he slowly left on stiff legs in the first light of day the still quiet town. He ate only once a day. He fasted for twenty-eight days. long nails grew slowly on his parched fingers and a dry." said said WITH THE SAMANAS In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics. the skinny Samanas. "I have Govinda. shaggy beard grew on his chin. "You have come. They were accepted. Feverish dreams flickered from his enlarged eyes. He fasted for fifteen days. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-coloured. a shadow rose near the last hut. Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. and never something cooked.

The world tasted bitter. a single goal: to become empty. which is no longer my self. it all lied. empty of dreams. . and it all was just concealed putrefaction. Once all of my self was overcome and had died. it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful. to find tranquility with an emptied heard. to be open to miracles in unselfish thoughts. empty of thirst. when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. He saw merchants trading. whores offering themselves.to ice when he encountered women. the great secret. A goal stood before Siddhartha. that was his goal. mothers nursing their children—and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. it all stank of lies. princes hunting. Life was torture. the innermost of my being. then the ultimate part of me had to awake. Dead to himself. mourners wailing for their dead. lovers loving. empty of joy and sorrow. his mouth twitched with contempt. once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart. priests determining the most suitable day for seeding. physicians trying to help the sick. empty of wishing. not to be a self any more. it all stank.

from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders. Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above. until nothing burned any more. Siddhartha practised self-denial. until they were silent. Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas. practised meditation. learned to get along with only few breathes. until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more. until they were only a few and almost none. from festering wounds dripped pus. until they were quiet. blood dripped from the burning skin. until no blood flowed any more. learned to stop breathing. A heron flew . Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly.Silently. and stood there. and Siddhartha stayed rigidly. and the penitent stood there. he stood there in the rainy season. he cowered in the thorny bushes. Silently. over freezing hips and legs. Silently. until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. to calm the beat of his heart. according to a new Samana rules. beginning with the breath. until nothing stung any more. stayed motionless. leaned to reduce the beats of his heart. glowing with pain. He learned. glowing with thirst.

was water. turned into a skeleton. was his self again. had died. felt the pangs of a heron's hunger. was stone. ate fish. had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle. sun shone or moon. felt thirst. turned to dust. was an animal. awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap. had decayed. A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank. was a heron. Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the . was wood. flew over forest and mountains. overcame the thirst. died a heron's death. he killed his memory. was scattered as dust. was blown across the fields. and awoke every time to find his old self again. and Siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body. stank. where an eternity without suffering began. got bloated. where the end of the causes. was dismembered by hyaenas. felt new thirst. lay on the banks.over the bamboo forest—and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul. He killed his senses. spoke the heron's croak. decayed. where he could escape from the cycle. was the dead jackal. he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. was carrion. turned round in the cycle. And Siddhartha's soul returned. was skinned by vultures.

Occasionally the two of them went through the villages. stayed in nothingness. for hours and days he remained in the non-self. and was once again his self and Siddhartha. undertook the same efforts. through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. to . a thousand times he left his self.Samanas. stayed in the animal. many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. These and other ways he learned to go. By his side lived Govinda. his shadow. tiredness. in the stone. and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him. inescapable was the hour. walked the same paths. the return was inevitable. But though the ways led away from the self. hunger. when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight. in the shade or in the rain. their end nevertheless always led back to the self. He went the way of selfdenial by means of pain. than the service and the exercises required. They rarely spoke to one another. Though Siddhartha fled from the self a thousand times. He went the way of self-denial by means of meditation. thirst. through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain.

often the old Samanas have admired you. insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" . Quickly. Siddhartha. this. you'll be a holy man. You'll be a great Samana. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are. up to this day." Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way. my friend. oh Govinda. you've learned every exercise. "how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?" Govinda answered: "We have learned. holding your breath. What I've learned. oh Siddhartha. among carters and gamblers I could have learned it. and we'll continue learning." Quoth Siddhartha: "I can't help but feel that it is not like this. Govinda. my friend." Quoth Govinda: "Siddhartha is putting me on. One day. "How do you think.beg for food for themselves and their teachers. I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means. How could you have learned meditation. being among the Samanas.

" . but he'll return from the delusion. then he finds a short numbing of the senses. finds everything to be unchanged. then he won't feel the pains of life any more. This is how it is. staying in the non-self. the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-cart finds in the inn. oh Govinda. he'll find the same what Siddhartha and Govinda find when they escape their bodies through long exercises. it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. Then he won't feel his self any more. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses. oh friend. 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. it's true that he briefly escapes and rests. has not become wiser. has gathered no enlightenment.And Siddhartha said quietly. and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-cart and a Samana is no drunkard." Quoth Govinda: "You say so.— has not risen several steps. drinking a few bowls of ricewine or fermented coconutmilk. When he falls asleep over his bowl of ricewine. it is a short escape of the agony of being a self. The same escape.

We are not going around in circles. from salvation. our venerable teacher?" . the circle is a spiral. this I know. Siddhartha." And once again. oh Govinda. oh Govinda. is our oldest Samana. Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now. this I know. we are moving up. there is still much to learn. another time. But that I. who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" Quoth Govinda: "We have learned a lot. find only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom. as a child in the mother's womb. 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. Siddhartha. I've never been a drunkard." Siddhartha answered: "How old.And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: "I do not know. would you think. we have already ascended many a level. when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda. to beg for some food in the village for their brothers and teachers.

a slightly sad. perhaps not a single one. we will grow just as old and will do our exercises. a slightly mocking voice: "Soon. and you and me. will reach the nirvana. among so many austere and venerable Samanas. Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men. with a quiet. But the most important thing. Oh Govinda. so many holy men. among so many who are searching. to deceive others. Govinda. I believe out of all the Samanas out there. we find numbness. and will fast. we learn feats. so many who are eagerly trying." And Siddhartha: "He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. he won't and we won't. among so many Brahmans. We find comfort. the path of paths. no one will find the path of paths?" But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery. He'll turn seventy and eighty. But we will not reach the nirvana. not a single one." spoke Govinda.Quoth Govinda: "Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age. your friend will . we will not find. and will meditate." "If you only. "wouldn't speak such terrible words.

and on this long path of a Samana. and I have asked the devote Samanas. and spoke: "If you. year after year. year after year. you words stir up fear in my heart. and I have asked the holy Vedas. he has walked along your side for so long. It took me a long time and am not finished learning this yet. this is everywhere. I have asked the Brahmans. as what we refer to as `learning'. this is Atman. I have always been full of questions. it had been just as well. so I believe.leave the path of the Samanas. There is. just one knowledge. oh Govinda. year after year. this is within me and within you and within every creature. oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing. And so I'm starting to believe that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it. Siddhartha. if I had asked the hornbill-bird or the chimpanzee. only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly. Govinda stopped on the path. rose his hands. oh my friend. oh Govinda. had been just as smart and just as profitable. Perhaps. I'm suffering of thirst. And just consider: . I always thirsted for knowledge. than learning. my thirst has remained as strong as ever." At this.

of a purified spirit. a rumour. when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises. But Siddhartha remained silent. what is precious. a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared. if there was no learning?! What. what is venerable on earth?!" And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself. he thought. standing there with his head low. unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart.what would become of the sanctity of prayer. loses himself in the meditation of Atman. what of the holiness of the Samanas. oh Siddhartha. At one time. Yes. Gotama . if it was as you say. what would then become of all of this what is holy. some news. a verse from an Upanishad: He who ponderingly. 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. what of the venerability of the Brahmans' caste. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end.

in the yellow cloak of an ascetic. the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest. and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it. This myth. a knowledgeable one. with praise and with defamation. the name of Gotama. a man of bliss. this legend resounded. a wise man. 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. again and again. the exalted one. its fragrants rose up. whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence. he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. many would believe. the Samanas. without possession. without home. He was said to wander through the land. many would doubt. this rumour. surrounded by disciples. but many would . in the towns. with good and with bad talk. but with a cheerful brow. the Buddha.by name. the Buddha reached the ears of the young men. without a wife. here and there. teaching.

But his enemies and disbelievers said. he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard. he remembered his previous lives. was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. life was hard to bear—and behold. here a messenger seemed to call out. the world was sick. Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him. to seek the wise man. he had performed miracles. comforting. he would spent his days in luxury.get on their way as soon as possible. here a source seemed to spring forth. the helper. and knew neither exercises nor self-castigation. He possessed. was without learning. The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. the Buddha. After all. scorned the offerings. full of noble promises. everywhere in the lands of . had overcome the devil. so the believers said. the highest enlightenment. mild. this Gotama was a vain seducer. The scent of magic flowed from these reports. had spoken to the gods. just like this this myth ran through the land. the wise man of the family of Sakya. that fragrant myth of Gotama.

felt hope. drop by drop. They rarely talked about it. "Oh Siddhartha. and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome. who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. slowly. and thought to myself: If only I would too. "Today. every drop laden with hope. the exalted one. this made my chest ache when I breathed. the Sakyamuni. I was in the village. live to see the hour when we . and a Brahman invited me into his house. and also Govinda." Govinda spoke one day to his friend. the young men listened up. when he brought news of him. there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha. Siddhartha and me. and in his house. Verily. and he had no high opinion of this Gotama. felt a longing. The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest. and also Siddhartha. but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures.India. because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. every drop laden with doubt. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest. if only we both would too.

But behold. Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner. you've spoken well. If you only remembered the other thing as well. you've ." Quoth Govinda: "You're mocking me. I had not known Govinda well enough. an eagerness.will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak. where the Buddha spreads his teachings. 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. So now you. Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire. I had thought. oh Govinda. Mock me if you like. you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?" At this. Govinda. my faithful friend. friend. in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery. Govinda would stay with the Samanas. wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Always. which are becoming a Samana. to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me. want to take a new path and go there. and said: "Well. you've remembered correctly. I knew little of his heart.

oh friend. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. But the Samana became angry. that he wanted to leave him. Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision. which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning." Quoth Govinda: "Your willingness delights my heart. even before we have heard them. how should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings. because the . is small. consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us. oh Govinda! But this fruit. which are brought to us by teachers. and that my faith in words. let us await with calm hearts. But let's do it. which we already now received thanks to the Gotama." On this very same day. But tell me. 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. have already revealed their best fruit to us?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest. my dear.heard from me.

and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. deprived him of his power. made him mute. to do silently. I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. whatever he demanded him to do. the old man made several bows. his eyes became motionless. commanded him.two young men wanted to leave him. he had to carry out. with a concentrated soul. And the young men returned the bows with thanks. performed gestures of blessing. The old man became mute. returned the wish." Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana. And thus. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. . he captured the old man's glance with his glances. what they commanded. subdued him under his own will. spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. his will was paralysed. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now. took away his free will. his arms were hanging down. without power. went on their way with salutations.

an obedient worshipper of the exalted one. It is hard. Govinda said: "Oh Siddhartha. which the two young ascetics had received in their search for Gotama's abode. "Let old Samanas be content with such feats!" GOTAMA In the town of Savathi. the silently begging ones. the grove of Jetavana. had given him and his people for a gift. in the very .On the way. And arriving at Savathi. which the rich merchant Anathapindika. Truly. if you had stayed there." "I do not seek to walk on water. and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of Gotama's disciples. it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana." said Siddhartha. you would soon have learned to walk on water. every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha. Near the town was Gotama's favourite place to stay. All tales and answers. had pointed them towards this area. you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew.

There you pilgrims shall spent the night." Quoth the woman: "Here. and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well so. for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come. in the garden of Anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. the exalted one. you have truly come to the right place. where the Buddha dwells. On many days. who handed them the food: "We would like to know. oh mother of the pilgrims. food has been offered to them. I . do you know him.first house. and they accepted the food. who flock here. and to hear the teachings from his mouth. have you seen him with your own eyes?" Quoth the woman: "Many times I have seen him. and our path has come to an end! But tell us. the most venerable one. before the door of which they stopped to beg. You should know." This made Govinda happy. the perfected one. you Samanas from the forest. oh charitable one. the Buddha. in Jetavana. thus we have reached our destination. for there is enough space for the innumerable. to hear the teachings from his mouth. and Siddhartha asked the woman. to see him.

found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. They thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions. for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from Gotama's community were on their way to the Jetavana. monks walked in yellow robes. Govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. walking through the alleys in silence. On all paths of the marvellous grove. presenting his alms-dish in silence at the doors of the houses. leaving with a filled dish. wearing his yellow cloak. . there were constant arrivals. and talk of those who sought shelter and got it. bustling like bees. in deep contemplation— or in a conversation about spiritual matters. At sunrise." Delightedly. the shady gardens looked like a city. under the trees they sat here and there. But Siddhartha urged him to walk on. they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here. The two Samanas. accustomed to life in the forest. full of people. shouts.have seen him. And since they reached it at night.

Siddhartha saw him. who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. calm. The Buddha went on his way. He saw him. it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. and he instantly recognised him. "Look here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda. walking silently. according to a precise rule. the only meal of the day." Attentively. With a hidden smile. bearing the alms-dish in his hand. the enlightened one. somewhat resembling a healthy child. "This one is the Buddha. modestly and deep in his thoughts. his calm face was neither happy nor sad. a simple man in a yellow robe. as if a god had pointed him out to him. the Buddha walked. wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did. The Buddha himself. quiet. was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. But his face and . And they followed him and observed him. to collect food in town for their lunch.The majority of the monks went out with their alms-dish. And soon. Govinda also realized: This is the one. Govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe.

heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again.or thirdhand information. just as Govinda had. breathed softly in an unwhithering calm. his feet.his walk. he did not believe that they would teach him anything new. "Today. but he had. no effort to be seen. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head. in an unwhithering light. his shoulders. though these reports only represented second. did not search. in which there was no searching. we'll hear the teachings from his mouth. by the quietness of his appearance. his quietly dangling hand. Siddhartha did not answer. expressed perfection. no desire. did not imitate. no imitation. He felt little curiosity for the teachings." said Govinda. only light and peace. to collect alms. and the two Samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm. his quietly lowered glance. an untouchable peace. his quietly dangling hand and even every finger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace. Thus Gotama walked towards the town. and it seemed to him as if every joint of every finger of this hand was of these .

and it was also perfected. glistened of truth. This man. of the way to relieve suffering. breathed of. They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech flowed on. this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last finger. They saw Gotama returning—what he ate could not even have satisfied a bird's appetite. and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-trees. This man was holy. for they themselves intended to abstain from on this day. spoke of. Gotama taught the teachings of suffering. Never before. But in the evening. never before he had loved a person as much as this one. was of perfect calmness. was full of peace. They heard his voice. but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would . of the origin of suffering. full of suffering was the world.teachings. when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around. Suffering was life. exhaled the fragrant of. they heard the Buddha teaching. Siddhartha had venerated a person so much.

when the Buddha had retired for the night. it is not my place to scold you. patiently he went the usual path of the teachings. like a light. to put an end to all suffering. of the examples.walk the path of the Buddha. Right afterwards. yet firm voice the exalted one spoke. also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings. When the Buddha—night had already fallen—ended his speech. brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners. Govinda has heard the . taught the four main doctrines. then Govinda. it has come to you well. We have both heard the exalted one. And Gotama accepted them by speaking: "You have heard the teachings well. many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community." Behold." and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. With a soft. of the repetitions. taught the eightfold path. like a starry sky. Thus join us and walk in holiness. Govinda turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha. the shy one. we have both perceived the teachings. sought refuge in the teachings.

he looked into Govinda's face. he has taken refuge in it. Always. you've been my friend. my learned friend.teachings. But you. For a long time. without me. since it could not be any other way. oh my friend. don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate. not completely understanding it yet. I wish that you would go it up to its end. I beg you. my friend. my dear! Tell me. now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. that you shall find salvation!" Govinda. that you also. do you want to wait any longer?" Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep. out of his own soul? Behold. will take your refuge with the exalted Buddha!" Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You . when he heard Govinda's words. Then he spoke quietly. now you have taken this step. now you have chosen this path. oh Govinda. repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up. Often I have thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself. my honoured friend. in a voice without mockery: "Govinda. you've always walked one step behind me.

and he started to weep. I'll leave you. This is what you wanted for yourself. they lay there and found no sleep. Govinda urged his friend. this is what the exalted one wants. This is what the teachings require.failed to hear my good wish for you. Tomorrow. renounced your birth and possessions. that you shall find salvation!" In this moment. Govinda! Very good . what fault he would find in these teachings. renounced all friendship. I'm repeating it: I wish that you would go this path up to its end. Govinda realized that his friend had left him. oh Govinda. "Siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly." For a long time. renounced your free will. Siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "Don't forget. And over and over again. he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings. the friends continued walking in the grove. oh Govinda. for a long time. that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be content. Govinda.

Quoth Siddhartha: "Yesterday. But Siddhartha walked through the grove. Then he happened to meet Gotama. a follower of Buddha. to hear your teachings. lost in thought. went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings. And now my friend is going to stay with your . to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the first teachings and duties of their position. Then Govinda broke loose. the exalted one. Together with my friend. the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. I had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. I had come from afar.are the teachings of the exalted one. how could I find a fault in them?" Very early in the morning. oh exalted one. embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. one of his oldest monks. Silently the exalted one nodded his approval. and when he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm.

"Too bold is my speech. this has been seen so clearly. not depending on gods. an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love." "As you please. is proven. this has been presented so irrefutably. truly. not depending on chance. Never before. oh most venerable one. clear as a crystal. never before. the Buddha nodded his approval. But I will again start on my pilgrimage. I have admired in your teachings most of all. he has taken his refuge with you. once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected. Whether it may be good or bad. without gaps. a chain which is never and nowhere broken. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear. whether living . Quoth Siddhartha: "One thing.people." Siddhartha continued. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" Silently. "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts." the venerable one spoke politely. you are presenting the world as a perfect chain.

through a small gap. Now he spoke." Quietly. of salvation. But according to your very own teachings. possibly this is not essential—but the uniformity of the world. and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world. the perfected one. that everything which happens is connected. of coming into being and of dying. something new. with his kind. this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place. I do not wish to discuss.according to it would be suffering or joy. But with this small gap. oh perfected one. this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings. with his polite and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings. something which had not been there before. and good for you . that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time. with this small breach. this world of unity is invaded by something alien. Please forgive me for expressing this objection. by the same law of causes. oh son of a Brahman. unmoved. Gotama had listened to him. the entire eternal and uniform law of the world is breaking apart again and becomes void.

to argue about words. are no opinion. There is nothing to opinions. But be warned. They have a different goal. You have found salvation from death. oh seeker of knowledge. on your own . an error. that you have reached the goal. But the teachings.that you've thought about it thus deeply." said the young man. oh exalted one. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha. would not be angry with me. you've heard from me." "I wish that you. nothing else. You should think about this further. This is what Gotama teaches. "I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you. they may be beautiful or ugly. But let me say this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. You are truly right. of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. everyone can support them or discard them. and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. their goal is salvation from suffering. the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. there is little to opinions. You've found a gap in it. It has come to you in the course of your own search. smart or foolish.

oh venerable one. But there is one thing which these so clear. oh exalted one.—nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody. and of this hour. This is why I am continuing my travels—not to seek other." The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground. through thoughts. to avoid evil. through realizations. oh exalted one. it teaches many to live righteously. for I know there are none. these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself. . better teachings. through enlightenment. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And—thus is my thought. quietly. I'll think of this day. he alone among hundreds of thousands. in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. This is what I have thought and realized. but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. when my eyes beheld a holy man.path. But often. when I have heard the teachings. through meditation.

I must refuse. my many brothers. I must chose. oh Samana. my duty to follow you. I'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly. I must decide. that they shall reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. . that you shall reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas. my love for you. for then I had replaced my self with the teachings. oh exalted one. If I merely were one of your disciples. Only for myself. only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed. "I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings. oh stranger. oh venerable one. who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe. but that in truth it would live on and grow. "that your thoughts shall not be in error. "I wish.in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. for myself alone." exclaimed Siddhartha." the venerable one spoke slowly. 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. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for.

Well so. oh Samana. Be aware of too much wisdom!" The Buddha turned away. thus open. truly. "You know how to talk wisely. thus child-like and mysterious. only a person who has succeeded in reaching the innermost part of his self would glance and walk this way. too. thus venerable. and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory.and the community of the monks!" With half of a smile. my friend. Siddhartha thought. sit and walk this way. before whom I would have to lower my glance. I have never before seen a person glance and smile. I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. No .". not before any other. I wish to be able to glance and smile. Truly. thus concealed. I saw a man. he thought. with an unwavering openness and kindness. sit and walk this way. Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. a single man. thus free. I do not want to lower my glance before any other. "You are wise. the venerable one spoke.

like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation. which filled him completely. as he was slowly walking along. thought Siddhartha. AWAKENING When Siddhartha left the grove. and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are . He pondered about this sensation. But he has given me Siddhartha. so it seemed to him. because to identify the causes. I am deprived by the Buddha. stayed behind. is the very essence of thinking. then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. since this man's teachings have not enticed me. the perfected one.teachings will entice me any more. He has deprived me of my friend. the one who had believed in me and now believes in him. where the Buddha. He pondered deeply. who had been my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. and even more he has given to me. myself. where Govinda stayed behind. I am deprived. down to the place where the causes lie.

Siddhartha pondered. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path. could only deceive it. was not able to accept his teachings. he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "But what is this.not lost. but had turned into a man. He realized that he was no youth any more. the highest and wisest teacher. But I was not able to overcome it. had to part with him. but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. Slowly walking along. were still unable to teach you?" And he found: "It was the self. as a snake is left by its old skin. Buddha. he had left him. the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. which I sought to overcome. that one thing no longer existed in him. only hide from it. and what they. Slower. It was the self. He realized that one thing had left him. the most holy one. could only flee from it. what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers. I wanted to free myself from. even him. 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. who have taught you much. .

" Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around. he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him. the ultimate part. to find the core of all peels in its unknown interior. no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy. a new thought. the Atman. that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. and right away another thought sprang forth from these. the divine part. this mystery of me being alive. a single cause: I was afraid of myself. I was willing to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers. I was fleeing from myself! I searched Atman. a smile filled his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams flowed through him from his head down to his toes. stems from one cause. I searched Brahman. as this my very own self.Truly. about Siddhartha!" Having been pondering while slowly walking along. which was: "That I know nothing about myself. life. of me being Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me. And it . But I have lost myself in the process. of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others.

nor any kind of teachings. "now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer. all of it was beautiful. taking a deep breath. was no . strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue. to find a secret behind the ruins. the awakening one. Neither Yoga-Veda shall teach me any more. walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do." He looked around. river and forest. entered Siddhartha for the first time through the eyes. nor Atharva-Veda. on the path to himself. I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. here was green. want to be my student. here was yellow. All of this. want to get to know myself. the forest and the mountains were rigid. and in its midst was he. I want to learn from myself. all this yellow and blue. Siddhartha. Beautiful was the world. all of it was mysterious and magical. nor the ascetics. as if he was seeing the world for the first time. the secret of Siddhartha. colourful was the world. the sky and the river flowed." he thought.was not long before he walked again. "Oh.

wants to discover its meaning.longer a spell of Mara. and here Siddhartha. there forest. for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read. I have. here blue. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things. letter by letter. they were in them. "How deaf and stupid have I been!" he thought. was no longer the veil of Maya. in Siddhartha. who seeks unity. he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions. Blue was blue. there sky. in everything. "When someone reads a text. coincidence. but he will read them. called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose. the singular and divine lived hidden. river was river. . he will study and love them. I called the visible world a deception. walking swiftly along. who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being. and worthless hull. But I. to be here yellow. No. who scorns diversity. despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman. and if also in the blue and the river. was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances. scorned the symbols and letters.

I am no ascetic any more. all of this . I am no Brahman any more. that he.this is over. he had every intention. Siddhartha stopped once again. Because suddenly. would return to his home and his father. he also awoke to this realization: "But I am no longer the one I was." In thinking this thoughts. he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. after years as an ascetic. When he had left in this very morning from the grove Jetavana. who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-born baby. he had also become aware of this: He. I have awakened. only in this moment. when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path. suddenly. already on the path towards himself. regarded as natural and took for granted. already awakening. I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day. I am not a priest any more. the grove of that exalted one. Whatever should I do at home and at my father's place? Study? Make offerings? Practise meditation? But all this is over. as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. But now.

he had been his father's son. No Brahman. Nobody was thus alone as he was. nothing else was left. Now. Still. Now. a cleric. of a high caste. he felt cold and shivered. and for the time of one moment and breath. There was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen." Motionless. a bird or a rabbit. in which he was at home. he felt it. he had been without home and had felt nothing. had been a Brahman. and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone. Deeply. he was nothing but Siddhartha. Siddhartha remained standing there.is no longer alongside my path. the awoken one. would when seeing how alone he was. shared their life. no ascetic who would not find his refuge in the caste of the Samanas. Govinda had become a . he also belonged to a caste. spoke their language. no worker that did not belong to the workers. as a small animal. his heart felt cold. he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to. For many years. he inhaled. who would not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them. even in the deepest meditation. and found refuge with them. and for a moment. he felt a cold in his chest.

started to proceed swiftly and impatiently. Siddhartha. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides. more firmly concentrated. and a thousand monks were his brothers. SECOND PART Dedicated to Wilhelm Gundert. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening.monk. wore the same robe as he. when the world melted away all around him. where did he belong to? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment. believed in his faith. more a self than before. my cousin in Japan KAMALA . spoke his language. Siddhartha emerged. no longer back. when he stood alone like a star in the sky. no longer to his father. out of this moment of a cold and despair. heading no longer for home. But he. the last struggle of this birth.

since this essence lay beyond. the visible. and his heart was enchanted. rocks. stars. herbs. looked upon in distrust. deceptive veil before his eyes. animals. but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than a fleeting. always the sun and the moon had shone. the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning. for the world was transformed. rainbows. on the other side of. flowers. He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. wind silverishly blew through the rice-field. But now. birds sang and bees. a thousand-fold and colourful. distant high mountains which were blue and pale. At night. he saw the stars in the sky in their fixed positions and the crescent of the moon floating like a boat in the blue. All of this. he saw and became aware of the visible. always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed. had always been there. clouds.Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path. stream and river. sought to . He saw trees. his liberated eyes stayed on this side. since it was not the essential existence. destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought.

thus childlike. In a lake of reeds. the forest and the rocks. high in the branches. the young fish . thus simply. every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea. greedy song. Differently the sun burnt the head. Siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. thus awoken. did not aim at a world beyond. thus open to what is near. the pumpkin and the banana tasted. full of joy. without searching. did not search for the true essence. and under the sail was a ship full of treasures. differently the shade of the forest cooled him down. looking at it thus. Beautiful was this world. thus to walk through the world. the goat and the gold-beetle. propelling themselves away from it. differently the stream and the cistern. the flower and the butterfly. beautiful was the stream and the banks. in fear. short the nights. and heard their savage. Beautiful and lovely it was. he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner. wiggling and sparkling. Beautiful were the moon and the stars. thus childlike. Short were the days. thus without distrust. Siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest.be at home in this world.

he had to experience his self. the Buddha's. Light and shadow ran through his eyes. what he now began to experience. the farewell from Govinda. but the unexpressable and not teachable. It is true . which he had experienced in the hour of his enlightenment—it was nothing but this very thing which he had now gone to experience. the teaching he had heard there.jumped in droves out of the water. Again he remembered his own words. he had spoken to the exalted one. Now. which the pike stirred up. What he had said to Gotama: his. All of this had always existed. he had not been with it. the conversation with the exalted one. 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. stars and moon ran through his heart. Siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the Garden Jetavana. every word. Now he was with it. the scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water. the divine Buddha. On the way. he was part of it. treasure and secret was not the teachings. impetuously hunting. and he had not seen it.

not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. Both. No. because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. He wanted to strive for nothing. both had to be listened to. both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated. But never. not the learned wisdom. so it also was not the thought. dwell on nothing. he had really found this self. from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. the thoughts as well as the senses. not the rational mind. Why had . this world of thought was also still on this side. the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them. were pretty things.that he had already known for a long time that his self was Atman. both had to be played with. except where the voice would advise him to do so. if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. and not the spectacle of the senses. With the body definitely not being the self. except for what the voice commanded him to strive for. in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses.

at that time. a voice in his own heart. and he had neither preferred selfcastigation. in the hour of all hours. offerings. ablutions. sadly he asked: Why have you forsaken me? At this. of every . neither food nor drink. this was good. only to the voice. of sun and forest. he had obeyed the voice. where the enlightenment hit him? He had heard a voice. neither sleep nor dream. sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. Sad was how Govinda looked like. sat down under the bo-tree. wrapped his arms around him. it was not Govinda any more. dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic. To obey like this. at which Siddhartha lay and drank. not to an external command. but a woman. It tasted of woman and man. and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him. nor prayer. nothing else was necessary. Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda was standing in front of him. which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree.Gotama. this was necessary. to be ready like this. In the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river. and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress. of animal and flower. he embraced Govinda.

"a very beautiful river. often I have looked into its eyes." said the ferryman." spoke Siddhartha. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality. my benefactor." . of every joyful desire. Much can be learned from a river. "Yes." he said to his companion. Often I have listened to it. Siddhartha asked his host. The ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-raft. It intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious. "This is a beautiful river. I love it more than anything.—When Siddhartha woke up.fruit. my dear. to get him across the river. and also no payment for your work." "I than you. disembarking on the other side of the river. the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. a son of a Brahman and a Samana. and always I have learned from it. the ferryman. When the day began. I am a man without a home. and in the forest. the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut.

think little." Smiling. This too. Now farewell! Let your friendship be my reward. Like children are all people." spoke the ferryman. all would like to be friends. You will give me the gift another time. "Surely. children were rolling about in the street. "and I haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear. will come back. though they are the ones who would have a right to receive thanks." "Do you think so?" asked Siddhartha amusedly." he thought with a smile. Smiling."I did see it. All are submissive. "He is like Govinda. Commemorate me. screamed and wrestled. Samana. but . were playing with pumpkin-seeds and sea-shells. I have learned from the river: everything is coming back! You too." At about noon. All are thankful. Siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. they parted. In front of the mud cottages. like to obey. when you'll make offerings to the gods. he came through a village. "all I meet on my path are like Govinda.

a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. She exchanged humorous banter with him. While talking. When Siddhartha greeted her. and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again. 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. which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". asked whether he had eaten already. Siddhartha felt his blood heating up. she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile. 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. the path led through a stream. he saw her . he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. In the end of the village. Looking up. as it is the custom among travellers.they all timidly fled from the unknown Samana. beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. and by the side of the stream. Then she got up and came to him. He called out a blessing to her. so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city.

in a beautifully fenced grove. and the straw hut of the ferryman. . the voice if his innermost self. he reached the large city before the evening.face smiling full of lust and her eyes. the traveller came across a small group of servants. he petted her cheek. shuddering with awe. had been the first roof for a long time he has had over his head. with contracted pupils. but since he had never touched a woman before. Before the city. he hesitated for a moment. Siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving. and this voice said No. For a long time. begging with desire. On this day. he had lived in the forests. both male and female. all charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face. And in this moment he heard. Then. and was happy. turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboowood. for he felt the need to be among people. carrying baskets. while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. in which he had slept that night. Politely. he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat.

eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch. smart and watchful dark eyes. he did not know. the baskets. and then the servant as well. the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove. the mistress. and his heart rejoiced. resting fair hands. he looked at the fair. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and watched the parade. very smart face. sat a woman. Under black hair.In their midst. saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. charming face. he saw a very fair. a clear. like a freshly cracked fig. when the sedan-chair came closer. He bowed deeply. read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above. with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. carried by four servants in an ornamental sedan-chair. breathed in a slight fragrant. a brightly red mouth. With a smile. very delicate. the maids. on red pillows under a colourful canopy. saw the servants. tall neck rising from a green and golden garment. Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was. and straightening up again. which made to tower high on her head. . long and thin.

Then. but he thought about it. aside from the grove. and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance. I must not remain like this. I will not be able to enter the grove like this.Thus I am entering this city. he allowed the city to suck him in. I am still an ascetic and beggar. And he laughed. whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building. Pursuing his goal. He instantly felt drawn into the grove. he entered the city. whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu. stood still on the squares. and that. the famous courtesan. 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 . I am still a Samana. When the evening came. how despicable. how distrustful. rested on the stairs of stone by the river. with a charming omen. how rejecting. Siddhartha thought. Now he had a goal. she owned a house in the city. and was told that this was the grove of Kamala. he thought. drifted through the flow of the streets. he made friends with barber's assistant.

and dust in your hair?" . and early in the morning. Among the boats by the river. he slept this night. and long hair. "It's true that I've already seen and greeted you yesterday. to follow him conducted him. asked him." "But didn't you yesterday wear a beard. who was following him.and the Lakshmi. the servant returned. Then he went to take his bath in the river. When late in the afternoon. made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. comb his hair and anoint it with fine oil. greeting me?" asked Kamala. Siddhartha was standing at the entrance. and left him alone with her. beautiful Kamala approached her grove in her sedan-chair. before the first customers came into his shop. without a word into a pavilion. "Weren't you already standing out there yesterday. But that servant who walked at the very end of her train he motioned to him and asked him to inform his mistress that a young Brahman would wish to talk to her. who had been waiting. where Kamala was lying on a couch. he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair. After a while.

Siddhartha has come to me?" "To tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful. you have seen everything. To say this. Kamala. "Never before this has happened to me. the son of a Brahman. and the first one I met. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground." At this." Kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers. was you. I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher. my friend. I have come to you. You have seen Siddhartha. that a Samana from the forest came to me and wanted to . And if it doesn't displease you. But now. I have left that path and came into this city. oh Kamala! You are the first woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. when I'm coming across a beautiful woman."You have observed well. who has left his home to become a Samana. Kamala laughed aloud. even before I had entered the city. for I know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree. and who has been a Samana for three years. And asked: "And only to tell me this.

torn loincloth! Many young men come to me. I have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me. but without clothes. have combed the hair. that a Samana came to me with long hair and an old. Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles. but they come in beautiful clothes. Even yesterday. There is little which is still missing in me. fine shoes. money in my pouch. How shouldn't I reach that goal. with oil in his hair. how the young men are like who come to me. oh excellent one: fine clothes. . and he has reached them. Kamala. This is.learn from me! Never before this has happened to me. and there are also sons of Brahmans among them. they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. 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. they come in fine shoes." Quoth Siddhartha: "Already I am starting to learn from you. I was already learning. oh Samana. have oil in my hair. I have already taken off my beard. You shall know. And now let's get to it: You aren't satisfied with Siddhartha as he is.

pretty clothes. and lots of money in his pouch. he doesn't satisfy me yet.without money?" shoes. He could hurt you. "How should I not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! Your mouth is like a freshly cracked fig. Do you know it now. you'll see. My mouth is red and fresh as well. He could kidnap you. Clothes are what he must have. beautiful Kamala. Kamala. He could force you.— But tell me. and he isn't afraid of anything. and gifts for Kamala. who has come to learn how to make love?" "Whatever for should I be afraid of a Samana. I have marked your words. aren't you at all afraid of the Samana from the forest. my dear. it will be a suitable match for yours. without Laughing. and shoes. Samana from the forest? Did you mark my words?" "Yes. the Samana. beautiful girl." ." Siddhartha exclaimed. pretty shoes. a stupid Samana from the forest. Kamala exclaimed: "No. who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "Oh. he's strong.

which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easily. but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will. Samana. and his depth of thought? No. thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging. buying. finding it in the street. Did any Samana or Brahman ever fear. you are so right! It would be such a great pity. for they are his very own. "It would be a pity. precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. No. Kamala. receiving it as a gift. if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner. In this. it would be a pity. I am not afraid of this. Siddhartha. No. Like this it is." Siddhartha bowed with a smile. nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will . Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth. someone might come and grab him and steal his learning."No. and his religious devotion. you have come up with the wrong path. I shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth. but it cannot be stolen. and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it.

once he'll have what he still lacks: clothes. these verses: Into her shady grove stepped the pretty Kamala. What would be its title?" Siddhartha spoke. if I'll like your poem. I can fast. Would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "I would like to. ignorant Samana. What might you be able to do?" "I can think. I can also write poetry. But speak. many would like to know this. money. thus advise me where I should go to. shoes. You must do what you've learned and ask for money. But yes. clothes. couldn't you still give me one small advice?" "An advice? Why not? Who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor. after he had thought about it for a moment. At the . and shoes in return. I can wait. There is no other way for a poor man to obtain money." "Nothing else?" "Nothing.return. who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "Dear Kamala. that I'll find these three things most quickly?" "Friend. lovely Kamala.

grove's entrance stood the brown Samana. Deeply, seeing the lotus's blossom, Bowed that man, and smiling Kamala thanked. More lovely, thought the young man, than offerings for gods, More lovely is offering to pretty Kamala. Kamala loudly clapped her hands, so that the golden bracelets clanged. "Beautiful are your verses, oh brown Samana, and truly, I'm losing nothing when I'm giving you a kiss for them." She beckoned him with her eyes, he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked fig. For a long time, Kamala kissed him, and with a deep astonishment Siddhartha felt how she taught him, how wise she was, how she controlled him, rejected him, lured him, and how after this first one there was to be a long, a well ordered, well tested sequence of kisses, everyone different from the others, he was still to receive. Breathing deeply, he remained standing where he was, and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning, which revealed itself before his eyes.

"Very beautiful are your verses," exclaimed Kamala, "if I was rich, I would give you pieces of gold for them. But it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. For you need a lot of money, if you want to be Kamala's friend." "The way you're able to kiss, Kamala!" stammered Siddhartha. "Yes, this I am able to do, therefore I do not lack clothes, shoes, bracelets, and all beautiful things. But what will become of you? Aren't you able to do anything else but thinking, fasting, making poetry?" "I also know the sacrificial songs," said Siddhartha, "but I do not want to sing them any more. I also know magic spells, but I do not want to speak them any more. I have read the scriptures—" "Stop," Kamala interrupted him. "You're able to read? And write?" "Certainly, I can do this. Many people can do this." "Most people can't. I also can't do it. It is very good that you're able to read and write, very good. You will also still find use for the magic spells."

In this moment, a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear. "There's a visitor for me," exclaimed Kamala. "Hurry and get yourself away, Siddhartha, nobody may see you in here, remember this! Tomorrow, I'll see you again." But to the maid she gave the order to give the pious Brahman white upper garments. Without fully understanding what was happening to him, Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid, brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path, being given upper garments as a gift, led into the bushes, and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen. Contently, he did as he had been told. Being accustomed to the forest, he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound. Contently, he returned to the city, carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. At the inn, where travellers stay, he positioned himself by the door, without words he asked for food, without a word he accepted a piece of rice-cake. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow,

he thought, I will ask no one for food any more. Suddenly, pride flared up in him. He was no Samana any more, it was no longer becoming to him to beg. He gave the rice-cake to a dog and remained without food. "Simple is the life which people lead in this world here," thought Siddhartha. "It presents no difficulties. Everything was difficult, toilsome, and ultimately hopeless, when I was still a Samana. Now, everything is easy, easy like that lessons in kissing, which Kamala is giving me. I need clothes and money, nothing else; this a small, near goals, they won't make a person lose any sleep." He had already discovered Kamala's house in the city long before, there he turned up the following day. "Things are working out well," she called out to him. "They are expecting you at Kamaswami's, he is the richest merchant of the city. If he'll like you, he'll accept you into his service. Be smart, brown Samana. I had others tell him about you. Be polite towards him, he is very powerful. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become his servant, you shall become his

Kamala. which the likes of you aren't capable of.equal. and soon I'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon. but you thought this was of no use." she admitted. I was still a shaggy beggar. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. How come? Do you have a spell?" Siddhartha said: "Yesterday. I told you I knew how to think. he'll entrust you with a lot. she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. to wait. The day before yesterday." she said when they parted." "Well yes. "I'm opening one door after another for you. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest. and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today. or else I won't be satisfied with you. "You've been lucky. if Kamala wasn't helping you?" . If he'll like you. and to fast. But it is useful for many things." Siddhartha thanked her and laughed. "But where would you be without me? What would you be. you'll see. as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala.

without stirring. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal. because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. Nothing is effected by . From that moment on when I had made this resolution. without doing anything. I did the first step. His goal attracts him. I knew that you would help me. a resolution. he waits. at your first glance at the entrance of the grove I already knew it. It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. he is drawn." said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height. I also knew that I would carry it out."Dear Kamala. Siddhartha does nothing. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water. he thinks. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. Look. it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water." "But what if I hadn't been willing?" "You were willing. but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water. he lets himself fall. "when I came to you into your grove. he fasts.

She loved his voice. my teacher. everyone can reach his goals. But perhaps it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man. "Perhaps it is so. that therefore good fortune is coming towards him. "as you say. . if he is able to wait." Kamala listened to him. there are no daemons. Everyone can perform magic. friend." With one kiss. he was directed into a rich house. if he is able to think. Siddhartha bid his farewell. that my glance shall please you. "I wish that it should be this way. that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant. where he awaited the master of the house. she loved the look from his eyes.daemons. if he is able to fast. servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber." she said quietly. that his glance pleases the women.

I have been without . I am without possessions. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas. a swiftly. the host and the guest greeted one another. and therefore I am not destitute." said Siddhartha. smoothly moving man with very gray hair. "that you were a Brahman. with very intelligent. "I have been told. Might you have become destitute. Surely. cautious eyes. But I am so voluntarily." "But what are you planning to live of. Politely. how could you be anything but destitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?" "I am without possessions. "if this is what you mean." "If you're coming from the Samanas. being without possessions?" "I haven't thought of this yet." said Siddhartha. a learned man." the merchant began. with a greedy mouth.Kamaswami entered. sir. For more than three years. with whom I have lived for a long time. but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. Brahman. "I have not become destitute and have never been destitute. so that you seek to serve?" "No.

" "Presumable this is how it is. and have never thought about of what I should live. he would give his merchandise in return. The warrior gives strength. I can fast. everyone gives. a merchant also lives of what other people own. the farmer rice. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is it that you've learned. what you're able to do?" "I can think. I can wait." "But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions." "So it seems to be indeed." "Yes indeed. Everyone takes." "Well said. such is life. the merchant gives merchandise. But he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing." "So you've lived of the possessions of others." "That's everything?" .possessions. what would you like to give?" "Everyone gives what he has. After all. the fisher fish. the teacher teachings.

This. everything!" that's "And what's the use of that? For example. and began to read out its contents." "You're right. "And would you . When a person has nothing to eat. for example. sir. Siddhartha can wait calmly. whether it may be with you or wherever." said Kamaswami. on which a salescontract had been written down. "Excellent."I believe. he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up." Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll. Samana. he knows no impatience. But like this. sir. Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast. Wait for a moment. When. he knows no emergency. the fasting— what is it good for?" "It is very good. because hunger would force him to do so. fasting is the smartest thing he could do. is what fasting is good for. which he handed to his guest while asking: "Can you read this?" Siddhartha looked at the scroll. for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it.

Siddhartha got to know many new things. forced him to treat him as an . showed him the merchandise and storagerooms. I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house. he heard a lot and spoke little. Clothes were brought to him.write something for me on this piece of paper?" He handed him a piece of paper and a pen. and shoes. showed him calculations. Kamaswami told him about his trade. For today. and lived in the dealers house from now on. but Siddhartha only ate once a day." Siddhartha thanked and accepted. Being smart is good. And thinking of Kamala's words. being patient is better. he was never subservient to the merchant. and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper. "Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. a servant prepared a bath for him. and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. Kamaswami read: "Writing is good." "It is excellent how you're able to write. thinking is better. Twice a day. a plentiful meal was served. and every day." the merchant praised him.

Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion. but the contents of which did not touch his heart. however small it was. and that every gesture. but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game. every touch. who was. She taught him. at the hour appointed by her. and soon he brought her gifts as well. yes even more than an equal.equal. Much he learned from her tender. about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be taken without giving pleasure. regarding love. every look. the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely. him she taught. still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit. fine shoes. which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. he visited beautiful Kamala. had its secret. that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love. Him. But daily. when he already took part in his landlords business. supple hand. smart mouth. every spot of the body. without one . thoroughly starting with the basics. wearing pretty clothes. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long. Much he learned from her red. every caress.

but that he acted in a fortunate manner. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist. nit with the business of Kamaswami." he said to a friend. the merchant. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself. shipping and trade. "This Brahman. her friend. and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. without being just as defeated as they have been victorious. magic. in calmness and equanimity. "is no proper merchant and will never be one. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life. 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. became her student. or something he . whether this may be a good star of his birth. her lover. 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.admiring the other. there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool. and that Siddhartha surpassed him.

When he made a profit.has learned among Samanas." Kamaswami followed the advice. but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses. Nevertheless. he'll become more zealous. they never rule over him. At one time. when he made losses. he accepted it with equanimity. and returned extremely satisfied from his trip. Then. he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. But Siddhartha cared little about this. gave copper-coins to their children. Kamaswami held against . treated the farmers for a drink. But when he got there. look at this. joined in the celebration of a wedding. he is never upset by a loss. when there is a loss. Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village. he laughed and said: "Well. so this one turned out badly!" It seemed indeed. as if he did not care about the business. they never fully become a part of him. He always seems to be merely playing with out businessaffairs. the rice had already been sold to another merchant. he is never afraid of failure." The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the profits.

If a loss has occurred. if I had been Kamaswami. a Brahman has become my friend. dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. I am very satisfied with this trip. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places. I have received kindness and trust. I've learned. Siddhartha answered: "Stop scolding. that he had wasted time and money. had joy. I've neither ." Siddhartha laughed. But like this. I have gotten to know many kinds of people. "but in fact. being annoyed and in a hurry. children have sat on my knees." "That's all very nice. as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible. one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" "Surely. "surely I have travelled for my amusement. farmers have shown me their fields. I have found friendship. my dear.him that he had not turned back right away. nobody knew that I was a merchant. and time and money would indeed have been lost. let me bear that loss." exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly. you are a merchant after all. Look. I would have travelled back. I've had a few good days.

then speak a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path. or rather they both ate other people's bread. perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest. Siddhartha ate his own bread. or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost. and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. to . leave it as it is. or for whatever purpose it might be." Futile were also the merchant's attempts. my friend. Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger. let's be satisfied with one another. Whether there was a business-deal going on which was in danger of failing. So. But until then. or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay. to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. all people's bread. when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me.harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner. and don't harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come. And if I'll ever return there again. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries.

crafts. He saw mankind going through life in a childlike or animallike manner. pleasures. When. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala. in learning from all of them. 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. Besides from this. one day. to sleep badly.have wrinkles on the forehead. which he loved and ." Indeed his soul was not with the trade. Siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people. and it earned him much more than he needed. I haven't learned to think from you. and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. whose businesses. you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me. in living with all of them. Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him. my dear Kamaswami. These are your areas of expertise. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them. worries. he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana.

only as much as he considered indispensable. he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile. When Kamaswami came to him. he listened curiously and happily. and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel. consented that he was a little bit right. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale. 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.also despised at the same time. tried to understand him. for being slightly honoured. and . for money. and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price. He was open to everything. saw them suffering. was puzzled by him. He saw them toiling. he saw them scolding and insulting each other. welcome was the debtor who sought another loan. for little pleasures. these people brought his way. to complain about his worries or to reproach him concerning his business. 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.

a dying. many to cheat him. with the people around him. quiet voice. though being happy and feeling joy at times. The source ran somewhere. He gave advice. lamented quietly. he became aware of the strange life he was leading. many to appeal to his sympathy. of him doing lots of things which were only a game. he made gifts. with the source of his being.turned away from him. As a ballplayer plays with his balls. And then. he was not with them. found amusement in them. he pitied. for an hour. had nothing to do . watched them. And there were many who came to him. of. many to do business with him. real life still passing him by and not touching him. which admonished him quietly. many to get his advice. 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. deep in his chest. far away from him. ran and ran invisibly. he let them cheat him a bit. many to draw some secret out of him. towards the next person who would ask for him. he played with his business-deals. At times he felt. he hardly perceived it. with his heart.

and inside of you. gave her advice. learned from her. "that's not the reason why. he said to her: "You are like me. there is a peace and refuge. "No. you are different from most people. she was more similar to him. he came back to beautiful Kamala." "Not all people are smart. Few people have this. 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. really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator. really to act. as I can also do. received advice. chatted with her. learned the art of love." said Kamala. You are Kamala. and yet all could have it. Kamaswami is just as smart as . nothing else. to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself. practised the cult of lust. really to live. Once. But again and again. in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him.with his life any more." said Siddhartha.

" she said. a perfected one. one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. Kamala. he who had learned from her how to make love. follow his instructions every hour.I. in themselves they have their law and their course. I'll never be able to forget him. are like a falling leaf. and wavers. who is spreading that teachings. are like stars. Most people. and they played the game of love." Siddhartha said nothing. "Again. a few. and still has no refuge in himself. of which I knew many. Among all the learned men and Samanas. Her body was flexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter. It is that Gotama." Kamala looked at him with a smile. and tumbles to the ground. but they are all falling leaves. "again. Others have it. you're having a Samana's thoughts. you're talking about him. there was one of this kind. But others. no wind reaches them. who are small children with respect to their mind. which is blown and is turning around through the air. not in themselves they have teachings and a law. they go on a fixed course. . Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day. the exalted one.

enticed him. At some time. You're stronger than others. more willing. I'd want to bear your child. that's their secret. which had grown tired. many secrets." Siddhartha said tiredly. took a long look at his face. my dear. "I ever saw. Siddhartha." she said thoughtfully. rejected him. when I'll be older. The childlike people can. "You are the best lover. forced him. you've remained a Samana. she played with Siddhartha. The courtesan bent over him. and yet you do not love me. more supple. embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills. "I am like you. For a long time. you love nobody." SANSARA . And yet. You also do not love—how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps. Isn't it so?" "It might very well be so. people of our kind can't love.was knowledgeable of many forms of lust. until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. You've learned my art well. at his eyes.

bright state of being awake. they came to him. Years passed by. that tense expectation.For a long time. which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth. Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. whenever they needed money or advice. he had tasted riches. but there was nobody close to him. though without being a part of it. of fasting. Kamala. His senses. the childlike people. surrounded by the good life. for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants. which guided his life. in those days after Gotama's sermon. had awoken again. after the separation from Govinda. That high. except Kamala. which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana. that proud state of . being smart. had realized this quite right. nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana. He had become rich. had tasted lust. had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. of waiting. It was still the art of thinking. The people liked him. and a garden before the city by the river. had tasted power. still the people of the world. Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust.

standing alone without teachings and without teachers. the wheel of thinking. thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism. will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop. of his eternal entity. the wheel of differentiation for a long time. had slowly become a memory. joy of thinking. but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. Just as a potter's wheel. he had learned from Gotama. he had learned from his father the Brahman. Nevertheless. which is neither body nor consciousness. which used to murmur within himself. once it has been set in motion. Many a part of this he still had. distant and quiet. had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living. which used to be near. but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree. hours of meditation. that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart. Slowly. still turning. many things he had learned from the Samanas. secret knowledge of the self. the holy source murmured. had been fleeting. filling .

it slowly and making it rot, the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul, slowly it filled his soul, made it heavy, made it tired, put it to sleep. On the other hand, his senses had become alive, there was much they had learned, much they had experienced. Siddhartha had learned to trade, to use his power over people, to enjoy himself with a woman, he had learned to wear beautiful clothes, to give orders to servants, to bathe in perfumed waters. He had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food, even fish, even meat and poultry, spices and sweets, and to drink wine, which causes sloth and forgetfulness. He had learned to play with dice and on a chess-board, to watch dancing girls, to have himself carried about in a sedan-chair, to sleep on a soft bed. But still he had felt different from and superior to the others; always he had watched them with some mockery, some mocking disdain, with the same disdain which a Samana constantly feels for the people of the world. When Kamaswami was ailing, when he was annoyed, when he felt insulted, when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant, Siddhartha had always watched it with mockery. Just slowly and

imperceptibly, as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by, his mockery had become more tired, his superiority had become more quiet. Just slowly, among his growing riches, Siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself, something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. And yet, he envied them, envied them just the more, the more similar he became to them. He envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had, the importance they were able to attach to their lives, the amount of passion in their joys and fears, the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. These people were all of the time in love with themselves, with women, with their children, with honours or money, with plans or hopes. But he did not learn this from them, this out of all things, this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child; he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones, which he himself despised. It happened more and more often that, in the morning after having had company the night before, he stayed in bed for a long time, felt unable to think and tired. It happened that he became angry and impatient,

when Kamaswami bored him with his worries. It happened that he laughed just too loud, when he lost a game of dice. His face was still smarter and more spiritual than others, but it rarely laughed, and assumed, one after another, those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people, those features of discontent, of sickliness, of illhumour, of sloth, of a lack of love. Slowly the disease of the soul, which rich people have, grabbed hold of him. Like a veil, like a thin mist, tiredness came over Siddhartha, slowly, getting a bit denser every day, a bit murkier every month, a bit heavier every year. As a new dress becomes old in time, loses its beautiful colour in time, gets stains, gets wrinkles, gets worn off at the seams, and starts to show threadbare spots here and there, thus Siddhartha's new life, which he had started after his separation from Govinda, had grown old, lost colour and splendour as the years passed by, was gathering wrinkles and stains, and hidden at bottom, already showing its ugliness here and there, disappointment and disgust were waiting. Siddhartha did not notice it. He only noticed that this bright and reliable

voice inside of him, which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times, had become silent. He had been captured by the world, by lust, covetousness, sloth, 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. Property, possessions, and riches also had finally captured him; they were no longer a game and trifles to him, had become a shackle and a burden. On a strange and devious way, Siddhartha had gotten into this final and most base of all dependencies, by means of the game of dice. It was since that time, when he had stopped being a Samana in his heart, that Siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things, which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people, with an increasing rage and passion. He was a feared gambler, few dared to take him on, so high and audacious were his stakes. He played the game due to a pain of his heart, 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, the merchants' false god, more clearly and

lost money. his mind was set on new riches. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly.more mockingly. lost a house in the country. because he wanted to continue gambling. lost his kindness towards beggars. something like an intoxication. won thousands. And after each big loss. continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. who gambled away . lukewarm. that terrible and petrifying fear. lost again. while he was worried about losing high stakes. Siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred. won again. he wanted to continue squandering. He. threw away thousands. lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. that fear he loved and sought to always renew it. lost his patience when he was not payed on time. always get it to a slightly higher level. lost jewelry. That fear. dull life. forced his debtors more strictly to pay. which he felt while he was rolling the dice. something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated. hating himself. mocking himself. always increase it. for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness. pursued the trade more zealously.

how peaceful his walk had been. he had to tell her about the exalted Buddha. growing ill. how kind his smile. and from there he fled back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden. how still and beautiful his mouth. talking.tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it. he continued fleeing. how clear his eyes. fleeing into a new game. and Kamala had . He had spend the hours of the evening with Kamala. whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly. by wine. She had asked him to tell her about Gotama. In this pointless cycle he ran. and could not hear enough of him. occasionally dreaming at night about money! And whenever he woke up from this ugly spell. They had been sitting under the trees. became more strict and more petty in his business. growing tired. fleeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex. and Kamala had said thoughtful words. Then the time came when a dream warned him. whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him. in her beautiful pleasure-garden. For a long time. growing old.

read a fearful inscription. she had aroused him. once more. an inscription of small lines. just as Siddhartha himself. and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had.sighed and had said: "One day. and Kamala's face had been close to him. of slight grooves. who was only in his forties. as clearly as never before. which has no happy destination. gray hairs among his black ones. biting and in tears. how closely lust was akin to death. had already noticed. fear of the autumn. and concealed. it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha. perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age. Never before. I'll give him my pleasure-garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings. I'll also follow that Buddha. fear of having to . and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour. as if. Then he had lain by her side. still unsaid." But after this. tiredness from walking a long path. fleeting pleasure. an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age. she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain. tiredness and the beginning of withering. here and there. perhaps soon. Tiredness was written on Kamala's beautiful face.

had acted as if he was superior to them towards the fellowmembers of his caste. vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief. he was disgusted by himself. by the flabby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. Siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine. full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm.die. repulsive taste of the wine. Like when someone. dull music. the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. being tired and yet excited. the just too soft smile of the dancing girls. had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight. though this was no longer true. his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer. With a sigh. he had bid his farewell to her. the soul full of reluctance. by his perfumed hair. Then. thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures. by the smell of wine from his mouth. who has eaten and drunk far too much. these habits and all . and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain. and full of concealed anxiety. the just too sweet. close to weeping and despair. But more than by anything else.

of this pointless life and himself, in an immense burst of disgust. Not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the first activities in the street before his cityhouse, he had slightly fallen asleep, had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness, a hint of sleep. In those moments, he had a dream: Kamala owned a small, rare singing bird in a golden cage. Of this bird, he dreamt. He dreamt: this bird had become mute, who at other times always used to sing in the morning, and since this arose his attention, he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside; there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. He took it out, weighed it for a moment in his hand, and then threw it away, out in the street, and in the same moment, he felt terribly shocked, and his heart hurt, as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird. Starting up from this dream, he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. Worthless, so it seemed to him, worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life; nothing which was alive,

nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. Alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. With a gloomy mind, Siddhartha went to the pleasure-garden he owned, locked the gate, sat down under a mango-tree, felt death in his heart and horror in his chest, sat and sensed how everything died in him, withered in him, came to an end in him. By and by, he gathered his thoughts, and in his mind, he once again went the entire path of his life, starting with the first days he could remember. When was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness, felt a true bliss? Oh yes, several times he had experienced such a thing. In his years as a boy, he has had a taste of it, when he had obtained praise from the Brahmans, he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of the one who has distinguished himself in the recitation of the holy verses, in the dispute with the learned ones, as an assistant in the offerings." Then, he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of you, you are destined for, the gods are awaiting you." And again, as a young man, when the ever rising,

upward fleeing, goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal, when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of Brahman, when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst in him, then again he had, in the midst of the thirst, 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, and again when he had gone away from the Samanas to that perfected one, and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. For how long had he not heard this voice any more, for how long had he reached no height any more, how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life, for many long years, without a high goal, without thirst, without elevation, content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satisfied! For all of these many years, without knowing it himself, he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many, like those children, and in all this, his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs, and their goals were not his, nor their worries; after all,

that entire world of the Kamaswami-people had only been a game to him, a dance he would watch, a comedy. Only Kamala had been dear, had been valuable to him—but was she still thus? Did he still need her, or she him? Did they not play a game without an ending? Was it necessary to live for this? No, it was not necessary! The name of this game was Sansara, a game for children, a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once, twice, ten times—but for ever and ever over again? Then, Siddhartha knew that the game was over, that he could not play it any more. Shivers ran over his body, inside of him, so he felt, something had died. That entire day, he sat under the mango-tree, thinking of his father, thinking of Govinda, thinking of Gotama. Did he have to leave them to become a Kamaswami? He still sat there, when the night had fallen. When, looking up, he caught sight of the stars, he thought: "Here I'm sitting under my mango-tree, in my pleasure-garden." He smiled a little —was it really necessary, was it right, was it not as foolish game, that he owned a mango-tree, that he owned a garden?

Siddhartha left his garden. and bid his farewell to these things. left the city. He smiled tiredly. For a long time. of the table with the meals on it. she was not astonished. He rose. that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time. bid his farewell to the mangotree. shook himself. Since he had been without food this day. Kamaswami had people look for him. and she was happy. she had felt this the last time they had been together. thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. in spite of all the pain of the loss. of his chamber and bed. and thought of his house in the city.He also put an end to this. his farewell to the pleasure-garden. that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. he felt strong hunger. a man who was at home nowhere. Did she not always expect it? Was he not a Samana. Kamala had no one look for him. and never came back. When she received the first news of Siddhartha's . In the same hour of the night. When she was told that Siddhartha had disappeared. a pilgrim? And most of all. this also died in him.

took the bird out and let it fly. was over and done away with. she gazed after it. he had dreamt of. sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. she went to the window. BY THE RIVER Siddhartha walked through the forest. he had been entangled in Sansara. like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. And full he was. . where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. that this life. She opened the door of the cage. From this day on. and that he had tasted all of it. full of the feeling of been sick of it. Dead was the bird in his heart. he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body. she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with Siddhartha. she received no more visitors and kept her house locked. the flying bird. But after some time. Dead was the singing bird. For a long time. was already far from the city. Deeply.disappearance. and knew nothing but that one thing. as he had lived it for many years until now. that there was no going back for him.

the same river over which a long time ago. given him comfort. a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible. bring him forgetfulness and sleep. and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of filth. there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him. Tiredness . a poison which would numb his senses. to breathe out. when he had still been a young man and came from the town of Gotama.full of misery. to be dead. to eat again. to breathe in again and again. he had not soiled himself with. to sleep again. By this river he stopped. a sin or foolish act he had not committed. a ferryman had conducted him. hesitantly he stood at the bank. given him joy. Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore. to feel hunger. 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. to have rest. full of death. 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.

this lunatic. which ran and ran under him. Siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder. there was nothing left but the deep. A hang bent over the bank of the river. this dog Siddhartha. this weakened . except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life. he had reached the end. this depraved and rotten body. a coconut-tree. wherever to. to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. to throw it away. and whatever for should he walk on. A frightening emptiness was reflected back at him by the water. answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. to which goal? No. except to annihilate himself. painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream. embraced the trunk with one arm.and hunger had weakened him. There was nothing left for him. to spit out this stale wine. before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. there were no more goals. Yes. the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for fishes. and looked down into the green water. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death. looked down and found himself to be entirely filled with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters.

and abused soul! Let him be food for fishes and crocodiles. Siddhartha was deeply shocked. he stared into the water. With his eyes closed. a sound stirred up. Then. he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit. that he had been able to seek . so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge. which he. with a slurred voice. And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched Siddhartha's ear. without thinking. let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! With a distorted face. in order to let himself fall straight down. a syllable. he slipped towards death. which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". It was a word. saw the reflection of his face and spit at it. the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans. his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. In deep tiredness. in order to finally drown. out of remote areas of his soul. out of past times of his now weary life. So this was how things were with him. so doomed was he. the holy "Om". spoke to himself.

Deep was his sleep and without dreams. saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him. he heard the water quietly flowing. flash. did not know where he was and who had brought him here. knew about the indestructibility of life. he felt as if ten years had passed. this was brought on by this moment. Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman. all desperation had not brought about. which he had forgotten. when the Om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. By the foot of the coconut-tree. struck down by tiredness. Siddhartha collapsed. When he woke up after many hours.death. opened his eyes. placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. this wish of a child. But this was only a moment. had been able to grow in him: to find rest by annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times. knew about all that is divine. all sobering realizations. that this wish. for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. and he remembered where he was and how he got . mumbling Om.

that. Quietly. he had really died. and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om. infinitely distant. He only knew that his previous life (in the first moment when he thought about it. previous incarnation. thus rejuvenated! Perhaps. the perfected. full of disgust and wretchedness. the holy word Om on his lips. he had even intended to throw his life away. infinitely far away. like an early pre-birth of his present self)—that his previous life had been abandoned by him. infinitely meaningless.here. he spoke the word Om to himself. speaking which he had fallen asleep. thus renewed. he had been thus refreshed. But it took him a long while for this. a submergence and complete entering into Om. under a coconut-tree. What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep. into the nameless. this past life seemed to him like a very old. and the past seemed to him as if it had been covered by a veil. but that by a river. that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. had drowned and . a thinking of Om. he has come to his senses.

strangely awake. Govinda had aged. expressed zeal. searching. who had neither hair on his head nor a beard. sitting in the position of pondering. the weird one.was reborn in a new body? But no. Govinda was happy to find him awake. timidness. was renewed. He observed the man. was strangely well rested. faithfulness. the friend of his youth. knew this self in his chest. the eccentric. apparently. then he saw a person sitting opposite to him. and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda. Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. But when Govinda now. Siddhartha straightened up. but still his face bore the same features. he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up. Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. an unknown man. this Siddhartha. though he did not know him. joyful and curious. . he knew himself. he knew his hand and his feet. knew the place where he lay. a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head. opened his eyes and looked at him. he too. but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed. sensing his gaze.

And then." . oh sir. and since I saw that your sleep was very deep. oh sir. you followers of the exalted one. Therefore. sir." said Siddhartha. Samana. when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep." "I'm going. and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path." "I thank you. I have fallen asleep myself. May you. I stayed behind from my group and sat with you. "However did you get here?" "You have been sleeping. Samana. the Buddha. I who wanted to guard your sleep. But now that you're awake. "You're friendly. always be in good health. Badly."I have been sleeping. let me go to catch up with my brothers. so it seems." answered Govinda. I." "I thank you. tiredness has overwhelmed me. am a follower of the exalted Gotama. for watching out over my sleep. I have served you. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places. where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths." spoke Siddhartha. sir. the Sakyamuni. Now you may go then. I sought to wake you up.

" "Farewell. "I know you. and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. "Permit me to ask." "You're Siddhartha. sir. to see you again. though I wouldn't have required any guard. "Now. We monks are always travelling.Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell. and from the offerings." Govinda exclaimed loudly. Govinda. Be welcome." said Siddhartha. my joy is great. Siddhartha smiled. Where are you going to. and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove Jetavana. The monk stopped. to see you again. from where do you know my name?" Now. oh friend?" "I'm going nowhere." "It also gives me joy. from your father's hut. and from the school of the Brahmans. again I thank you for this. Siddhartha. and from our walk to the Samanas. You've been the guard of my sleep. whenever it is not the rainy . oh Govinda. I'm recognising you.

not the hair of a Samana. and your hair. move on. You're wearing a rich man's garments. you do not look like a pilgrim. But you. you have observed well.season. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes." "You're on a pilgrimage. forgive me. few with such hair. your keen eyes see everything. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage. oh Siddhartha. few in such shoes. where are you going to?" Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too." said Govinda. you're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman. Siddhartha. accept alms. it is as it is with you. friend. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana. being a . we always move from one place to another. But. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. my dear. with the fragrance of perfume." "Right so. Never I have met such a pilgrim. live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us." Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage. is not a pilgrim's hair. It is always like this. I'm on a pilgrimage. I'm going nowhere. I'm just travelling. and I believe in you.

my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances. Govinda. today. and what I'll be tomorrow. They somehow happened to slip away from me. I'm wearing them. I'm travelling. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes. The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly." "You've lost your riches?" "I've lost them or they me. what are you now?" "I don't know it. for I have been one of them. and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people. and our hair and bodies themselves. Remember. such a garment. my dear Govinda." "And now. you've seen this quite right. wearing such shoes. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich . not eternal. Siddhartha. I don't know. because I have been a rich man.pilgrim years. I don't know it just like you. But now. anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair. you've met a pilgrim just like this." myself for many "I believe you.

that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw. so it seemed to him now. and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger. And it was this very thing. Govinda. . And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment. which had been his sickness before. in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep. he loved him still. this fearful man. The sleep had strengthened him much. was this very thing that he loved everything. you know it. Siddhartha watched the leaving monk. that he was not able to love anybody or anything. After that. with doubt in his eyes.man? Non-eternal things change quickly." Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time. Siddhartha watched him leave. he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. filled with Om! The enchantment. With a smiling face. but hunger gave him much pain. this faithful man. With a smiling face. for by now he had not eaten for two days. which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om.

he thought of that time. And now. I have learned nothing. there is nothing I could bring about. and yet also with a smile. for sensual lust. he had given them up. for what fades most quickly. so he remembered. Thinking was hard on him. for the good life. but he forced himself. nor thinking. For the most wretched things. so it seemed. he did not really feel like it. for riches! His life had indeed been strange. How . he thought. I have no abilities. he had learned these three feats. These had been his possession. laborious years of his youth. since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again. none of them was his any more. nothing else. he had boasted of three things to Kamala.With sadness. they had abandoned him. now I'm standing here under the sun again just as I have been standing here a little child. Siddhartha thought about his situation. now he had really become a childlike person. his solid staff. his power and strength. nothing is mine. Now. nor waiting. in the busy. neither fasting. had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting—waiting—thinking. In those days. And now.

that my strength is fading. "Things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself. to laugh about this strange. and he also saw the river going downhill. As a youth. Was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself. always moving on downhill. a hundred years ago. that my hair is already half gray. kindly he smiled at the river. to laugh about himself. was searching for Brahman. Yes. and laughed about it. wondrous detours it has taken. and singing and being happy through it all. I had only to do with asceticism. his fate had been strange! Things were going downhill with him. and as he was saying it. with thinking and meditation. and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. foolish world. so he thought. now I'm starting again at the beginning and as a child! Again. I had only to do with gods and offerings. But he could not feed sad about this. that I'm no longer young. no. As I boy. in past times. or had he dreamed this? Wondrous indeed was my life. He liked this well.wondrous is this! Now. he even felt a great urge to laugh. he happened to glance at the river. he had to smile. worshipped the eternal in the .

soon afterwards. piled up money. learned to please my senses. to forget the oneness. I went and learned the art of love with Kamala. insight came towards me in the form of the great Buddha's teachings. I followed the penitents. But I also had to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. the bird in my chest has not died. I've . Isn't it just as if I had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child.Atman. taught my body to become dead. lived in the forest. just to become a child again and to be able to start over. through so much vices. from a thinker into a childlike person? And yet. wasted money. to unlearn thinking again. learned to love my stomach. this path has been very good. learned to hunger. But as a young man. and yet. I had to spend many years losing my spirit. But it was right so. I felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood. But what a path has this been! I had to pass through so much stupidity. through so much disgust and disappointments and woe. suffered of heat and frost. Wonderfully. I've had to experience despair. learned trading with Kamaswami. my heart says "Yes" to it. my eyes smile to it. through so many errors.

to be able to live again. it moves in loops. he asked his heart. of spices. of sloth. of excess. to find Atman in me again. how good to breathe! There. of wine. of the gamblers! How did I hate myself for staying in this . of those who revel in fine food. Wherever from. I had to sin. good sleep. Where else might my path lead me to? It is foolish. perhaps it is going around in a circle. I want to take it. How did I hate this world of the rich. Wonderfully. to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. that I am finally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? Oh how good is it to have fled. I had to become a fool. to hear Om again. which I said? Or from the fact that I have escaped. which has done me so good? Or from the word Om. this path. in order to be able to experience divine grace. Let it go as it likes. where I ran away from. that I have completely fled. to the thought of suicide. there everything smelled of ointments. to have become free! How clean and beautiful is the air here.had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts. where from did you get this happiness? Might it come from that long.

a piece of suffering. that there is now an end to that hatred against myself. devoured up to the point of desperation and death. and let his soul die of thirst. poisoned. listened curiously to his stomach. it was good. have deprive. in these recent times and days. tortured myself. delude myself into thinking that Siddhartha was wise! But this one thing I have done well. if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair. that . never again I will.terrible world for so long! How did I hate myself. a piece of misery. you have once again had an idea. made money. found joy in himself. For much longer. so he felt. this I must praise. wasted money. have made myself old and evil! No. he could have stayed with Kamaswami. for much longer he could have lived in this soft. filled his stomach. Like this. He had now. have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! Thus he praised himself. as I used to like doing so much. after so many years of foolishness. this I like. Siddhartha. to that foolish and dreary life! I praise you. have done something. which was rumbling with hunger. well upholstered hell. completely tasted and spit out.

I have already learned as a child. this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had turned gray. which one needs to know.most extreme moment. don't just know it in my memory. . That he had felt this despair. Good for me. he pondered his transformation. Had not this bird died in him. this was why he felt joy. that the bird. had he not felt its death? No. the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all. "to get a taste of everything for oneself. something else from within him had died." he thought. this deep disgust. when he hang over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. in my stomach. this was why he laughed. and that he had not succumbed to it. something which already for a long time had yearned to die. That lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things. And now I know it. listened to the bird. "It is good. as it sang for joy. to know this!" For a long time. Was it not this what he used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? Was this not his self. but I have experienced only now. I have known it for a long time. but in my eyes. in my heart.

that he was now like a child. so full of trust. Therefore. Into being a priest. so without fear. felt fear? Was it not this. too many sacrificial rules. to much self-castigation. here in the forest. which was back again after every killing. Too much knowledge had held him back. too many holy verses. which today had finally come to its death. he had been. which had defeated him again and again. so full of joy? Now Siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a Brahman. frightened. always the smartest. his self had retreated. while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. and proud self. into this arrogance. that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. he had to go out . prohibited joy. always the knowing and spiritual one. always working the most. always the priest or wise one. so much doing and striving for that goal! Full of arrogance. into this spirituality. there it sat firmly and grew. always one step ahead of all others. as a penitent. by this lovely river? Was it not due to this death. Now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right.his small. he had wrestled with for so many years.

Cheerfully. mortal was every physical form. as if the river had something special to tell him. the teachings. something he did not know yet. Siddhartha had intended to drown . never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. never before he had like a water so well as this one. He would also grow old. It seemed to him. until the priest and Samana in him was dead. he looked into the rushing river. listened with a smile to his stomach. and was full of joy. up to bitter despair. Siddhartha the greedy could also die. he would also eventually have to die. a dice-gambler. which was still awaiting him. In this river. bearing the disgust. listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. He had died. until Siddhartha the lustful. a new Siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. the new Siddhartha. had to become a merchant. the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end. But today he was young. Therefore. he had to continue bearing these ugly years.into the world. lose himself to lust and power. to woman and money. was a child. mortal was Siddhartha. and a greedy person. a drinker. He thought these thoughts.

with crystal ones. a friendly ferryman had guided me then. and decided for himself. the blue of the sky being depicted in it. into the transparent green. thought Siddhartha. with white ones. with green ones. not to leave it very soon. it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people. But the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water. my present new life. so rich in secrets. THE FERRYMAN By this river I want to stay. the river looked at him.himself. in it the old. he looked into the rushing water. tired. he is the one I want to go to. With a thousand eyes. into the crystal lines of its drawing. my path had led me at that time into a new life. desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. shall also take its start there! Tenderly. starting out from his hut. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep. with sky-blue . which had now grown old and is dead—my present path. quiet bubbles of air floating on the reflecting surface.

was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this. how grateful was he to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking. and the same ferryman who had once transported the young . In a daze he walked on. understand this! He understood and grasped it not. he wanted to learn from it. and was nevertheless always there. divine voices. incessantly it ran. he wanted to listen to it. only felt some idea of it stirring. He saw: this water ran and ran. he today only saw one. would also understand many other things. how did it delight him. which was newly awaking. Siddhartha rose. He who would understand this water and its secrets. a distant memory. all secrets. listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. How did he love this water. this one touched his soul. the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. When he reached the ferry. upriver. and it told him: Love this water! Stay near it! Learn from it! Oh yes. many secrets. listened to the current.ones. up the path by the bank. so it seemed to him. But out of all secrets of the river. the boat was just ready.

Siddhartha recognised him. sir. you would soon stop enjoying it. which are a nuisance to me. I have been looked upon with distrust. isn't every work beautiful?" "This may be true. Wouldn't you. I have been looked upon today because of my clothes." With a smile. ferryman. the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful. he had also aged very much. But I envy you for yours. I have no money to pay your fare. like to accept these clothes. it is as you say. "Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. "Once before. from me? For you must know." "Ah. stood in the boat.Samana across the river." . "It's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself." the passenger spoke." Siddhartha laughed. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it. But isn't every life. being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot. This is nothing for people wearing fine clothes. The ferryman. took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank.

sir. Haven't you've been a Samana? I can't think of your name any more. or rather as your trainee. and I was a Samana. the the "Now I recognise you. to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant. possibly more than twenty years ago. you've slept in my hut. ferryman looked at stranger. when you've last seen me." "My name is Siddhartha. and you've been ferried across the river by me. Behold. friend." "And do you. sir. this was a long time ago. Thus." . "At one time. intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "Ah. searching." he finally said. do it today as well. "I'm not joking. most of all I wouldn't want to continue travelling at all. ferryman." For a long time. and accept my clothes for it." the ferryman laughed."You're joking. and we parted like good friends. once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. Most of all I would like you. for I'll have to learn first how to handle the boat.

love for this man had stirred in his heart. Afterwards."So be welcome. and remembered. in order to overcome the current. where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you. and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits. and tell me. as he had seen it before his eyes today. how once before. with brawny arms. and Vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength. You will. and Siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life. so I hope. it was almost the time of the sunset. offered him bread and water. the ferryman asked him to enter the hut. Gratefully." They had reached the middle of the river. He worked calmly. they sat on a log by the bank. he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes. in that hour of . Siddhartha sat and watched him. and Siddhartha ate with eager pleasure. his eyes fixed in on the front of the boat. Vasudeva offered him. after this. Siddhartha. When they had reached the bank. be my guest today as well and sleep in my hut. on that last day of his time as a Samana. My name is Vasudeva. he accepted Vasudeva's invitation.

how he did not lose a single one. his own search. This was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few. Until late at night. open. the ferryman listened with twice the attention. Without him having spoken a word. did not add his praise or rebuke. all joy. But in the end of Siddhartha's tale. Listening carefully. and a long silence had occurred.despair. was just listening. all that learning. his own suffering. But when Siddhartha fell silent. entirely and completely absorbed by it. all distress. and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber. to bury in his heart his own life. what a happy fortune it is. the speaker sensed how Vasudeva let his words enter his mind. with his eyes closed. quiet. to confess to such a listener. awaited not a single one with impatience. birthplace and childhood. he let everything enter his mind. Siddhartha felt. waiting. then Vasudeva said: . all that searching. he knew how to listen. and of his deep fall. Vasudeva listened with great attention. of the holy Om. lasted his tale. when he spoke of the tree by the river.

that it is good to strive downwards. there is space and food for both. That is good. It is your friend as well. from it you will learn it as well." "I thank you. for listening to me so well! These people are rare who know how to listen." said Siddhartha." spoke Vasudeva. to seek depth. but she has died a long time ago. you shall live with me. I used to have a wife. my friend. I will also learn in this respect from you. I have lived alone. The river has spoken to you."It is as I thought. "but not from me. Now. Vasudeva. And I also thank you for this. "I thank you and accept. The rich and elegant Siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant. It knows everything. The river has taught me to listen. for a long time. everything can be learned from it. See. her bed was next to mine. to sink. the learned Brahman Siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. Stay with me. You'll ." "You will learn it. it speaks to you as well. And I did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. Siddhartha. you've already learned this from the water too. that is very good. the river.

All I'm able to do is to listen and to be godly. Vasudeva?" Vasudeva rose. and on pilgrimages. they have heard its voice. thousands. "let's go to sleep. and it is my task to ferry people across the river. But for some among thousands. I have learned nothing else. I'm no learned man. my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. If I was able to say and teach it. They travelled to seek money and business." Quoth Siddhartha after a long pause: "What other thing.learn that other thing from it as well." he said. a few. and the river was obstructing their path. "It is late. See. I have transported many. the river has stopped being an obstacle. and the river has become sacred to them. and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle. I have no special skill in speaking. and to all of them. I might be a wise man. they have listened to it. as it has become sacred . I also have no special skill in thinking. or perhaps you know it already. but like this I am only a ferryman. You'll learn it. I can't tell you that other thing. oh friend. and for weddings. four or five.

few and at length thought about words. he was taught by the river. rarely.to me. he lived side by side with Vasudeva. to pay close attention with a quiet heart. "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" . without passion. and the days and months passed quickly. plucked the fruit off the banana-trees. "Did you." so he asked him at one time. he worked with Vasudeva in the rice-field. and occasionally they exchanged some words." rest now. Most of all. Vasudeva was no friend of words. Incessantly. But more than Vasudeva could teach him. without an opinion. and learned to mend the boat. without judgement. and when there was nothing to do at the ferry. Siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat. He learned to build an oar. Let's Siddhartha. In a friendly manner. he learned from it to listen. gathered wood. without a wish. with a waiting. opened soul. he learned from it. Siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. and was joyful because of everything he learned. and to weave baskets.

Siddhartha's previous births were no past. at the waterfall. everything is. and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow. in the mountains. "Yes. "And when I had learned it. everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time. nothing will be." he spoke. at the rapids. in the sea. Nothing was. not the shadow of the past. everything has existence and is present. deeply. this enlightenment had delighted him. at the ferry. I looked at my life. were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time. was not all suffering time.Vasudeva's face was filled with a bright smile. and that there is only the present time for it. as soon as . everywhere at once. and his death and his return to Brahma was no future. isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once. not the shadow of the future?" "This it is. Siddhartha. not by something real. at the source and at the mouth." said Siddhartha. Also." Siddhartha spoke with ecstasy. was not everything hard. "It is this what you mean. and it was also a river. Oh.

and of a warrior. brushed his hand over Siddhartha's shoulder." Vasudeva nodded. and of a sighing man. "all voices of the creatures are in its voice. but Vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in confirmation. Vasudeva's face was smiling. oh friend. and of a bird of the night.time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? In ecstatic delight. turned back to his work. very many voices? Hasn't it the voice of a king. . and a thousand other voices more?" "So it is. and of a bull. he had spoken. he bent over to Siddhartha and spoke the holy Om into his ear. And once again." Siddhartha continued. when the river had just increased its flow in the rainy season and made a powerful noise." "And do you know. and of a woman giving birth. "what word it speaks. And this had been the very thing which Siddhartha had also been hearing. the river has many voices. then said Siddhartha: "Isn't it so. silently he nodded. when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" Happily.

but the voice of life. 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. thought of the same things. just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles. of one of their travellers. they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log. both thinking precisely the same thing. Many travellers. the face and fate of whom had occupied their thoughts. Often. became almost just as bright. almost just as throughly glowing with bliss. looked at each other. It happened occasionally that a . the voice of what exists. when listening to the river. seeing the two ferrymen. and that they both in the same moment. which was no water to them. And it happened from time to time that both. said nothing and both listened to the water.And time after time. of what is eternally taking shape. when the river had been saying something good to them. just as alike to a child's. of death. thought they were brothers. which many of the travellers felt. of a conversation from the day before yesterday. his smile became more similar to the ferryman's. just as alike to an old man's. of their childhood.

Then. or holy men living by that ferry. but they got no answers. who were asking to be ferried across the river. and nobody counted them. after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen. or sorcerers. who had been told that there were two wise men. asked for comfort and advice. It also happened that curious people came. The curious people asked many questions. for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon . they only found two friendly little old men. confessed evil things. And the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher. and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men.traveller. at one time. It happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river. the Buddha. told about pains. monks came by on a pilgrimage. The years passed by. started to tell the story of his life. followers of Gotama.

until a new flock of monks came along on their pilgrimage. 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 are gathering like ants in droves. Siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man. proud and precocious words. saw his path to perfection before his eyes. like being drawn on by a magic spell. so it seemed to him. Kindly. in order to become one with the salvation. to where the great Buddha was awaiting his death.die his last human death. the exalted one. . the great teacher. It was not long. thus they flocked. Often. whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. and remembered with a smile those words which he had once. whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands. They had been. he thought of him. said to him. where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king. and another one. whose voice he had also once heard. And as people are flocking from everywhere and from all sides. as a young man.

there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal. had given her garden to the monks of Gotama as a gift. was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. her son. he remembered them. A long time ago. With her little son. every goal. though he was still unable to accept his teachings. No. who breathed what is divine.with a smile. someone who truly wanted to find. but the boy had soon grown tired. she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of Gotama. when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha. desired to go back home. could accept. had taken her refuge in the teachings. every path. But he who had found. On one of these days. she was travelling by the river. he could approve of any teachings. on foot. Kamala also went to him. For a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between Gotama and him any more. who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. she had retired from her previous life. . Together with Siddhartha the boy. there was no teaching a truly searching person. in simple clothes.

to an unknown place. she uttered a wailing scream. But the boy . and got near to the ferry. and was not able to go any further. and while the boy was chewing a banana. had to comfort him. Hurriedly. there Kamala collapsed. how did this concern the boy? The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva's ferry. and rested. He did not comprehend why he had to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother. a small. when little Siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. black snake fled. she crouched down on the ground. in order to reach people. Kamala often had to take a rest with him. But suddenly. who was holy and about to die. she had to feed him. Kamala herself. and from under her dress. So what if he died. closed her eyes a bit. became disobedient and started whining. the boy looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror. had also become tired. by which Kamala had been bitten.desired to rest. he was accustomed to having his way against her. they now both ran along the path. had to scold him. to a stranger. She. desired to eat.

he came walking. were Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just lighting the fire. with a smile. who stood at the ferry. Kamala's wound was washed. Her consciousness returned. she looked at her friend's face. who used to love her so much. It seemed like a dream to her. but had already turned black and her body was swollen. and soon they all reached the hut. though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms. Then he saw Kamala.started crying miserably. whom he instantly recognised. she was made to drink a healing potion. only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother. she lay on Siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood Siddhartha. and now he knew that it was his own son. 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. and the heart stirred in his chest. whose face had been such a warning reminder to him. carried her into the boat. took the woman on his arms. Quickly. realized her . just slowly she. until the sound reached Vasudeva's ears. and she also joined his loud screams for help. the boy ran along.

Kamala." she said. "He's with you. and at the sight of the child's face. I recognised you. But you are like the young Samana. my dear. when he had been a little boy himself. You are much more like him." Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son. Siddhartha." said Siddhartha. he started to . you're like him. don't worry. a Brahman prayer came to his mind. Slowly. my dear. "You've become old. let him weep. Alas. I have also grown old. with dusty feet. "you've become gray. which he had learned a long time ago. old—could you still recognise me?" Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly. called timidly for the boy. to me into the garden. remembered the bite. Kamala looked into his eyes. paralysed by the poison. In the eyes. than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami. petted his hair.situation. The boy wept." Her eyes became confused and fell shut. Siddhartha took him on his knees. She spoke with a heavy tongue. who at one time came without clothes. with a singing voice.

speak. "She'll die. Vasudeva nodded. Once again. attentively. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you. Kamala returned to consciousness. Pain distorted her face." Siddhartha said quietly." Siddhartha said nothing. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. he read it. his mind becoming one with her suffering. Quietly. quietly his eyes looked at hers. the words came flowing to him. Siddhartha gave him a look. Looking at him. and it's not you. over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's fire. They've become completely different. waiting. . Kamala felt it. on her pale cheeks. from his past and childhood. was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. her gaze sought his eyes. And with that singsong. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. which he returned with a smile. the boy became calm. she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well. Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth.

For a long time. When the final pain filled her eyes and made them grow dim. he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face." Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. with those lips. "You have found peace?" He smiled and placed his hand on hers. Without speaking. just as good. Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes."You have achieved it?" she asked." "You have found it. which wanted to take. in order to see the face of the perfected one. as if she had seen the other one." she said. his finger closed her eyelids. she looked at him. I too will find peace. She wanted to tell this to him. "I'm seeing it. her old. that he used to. and she thought that she had now found him in his place. and he saw the life fading from her eyes. he observed her mouth. and that it was good. which had become thin. and he remembered. but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. tired mouth. For a long time. . "I'm seeing it. to breathe his peace. when the final shiver ran through her limbs. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama.

. in the tired wrinkles. he rose. just as quenched out. Early in the morning. in this hour. Deeply he felt. In the stable. But Siddhartha did not eat. the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves. and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real. and saw at the same time his face and hers being young. compare this mouth with a freshly cracked fig. saw his own face lying in the same manner. read in the pale face. the feeling of eternity. more deeply than ever before. listening to the river. he sat. with red lips. where their goat stood. For a long time. filled himself with this sight. and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. surrounded by the past. whether the boy was sleeping. completely filled every aspect of his being. But occasionally. the eternity of every moment. touched and encircled by all times of his life at the same time.in the spring of his years. the indestructibility of every life. Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. with fiery eyes. just as white. When he rose. stepped to the door of the hut and listened. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut. even before the sun could be seen.

I sat here. Siddhartha. Kamala has died on the same bed. my dear. they built the funeral pile." While the boy was still asleep. "You haven't slept. Siddhartha. . A lot it has told me." "No. But now. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile. have become even richer and happier now. Vasudeva. who have been rich and happy. "No." "You've experienced suffering. how should I be sad? I. let's get to work. there is much to be done. but I see: no sadness has entered your heart.Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend. on which my wife had died a long time ago. My son has been given to me." "Your son shall be welcome to me as well. I was listening to the river." he said. deeply it has filled me with the healing thought. with the thought of oneness.

Siddhartha understood that his son did not know him. . He did not force him.THE SON Timid and weeping. gloomy and shy. did not open his heart. met his fate with resistance and denial. did not want to eat. a mother's boy. and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people. who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva's hut. Slowly. accustomed to giving orders to servants. gave no open look. by friendly patience. to a soft bed. he had listened to Siddhartha. Slowly. he did many a chore for him. the boy had attended his mother's funeral. he hoped to win him over. he sat for many days by the hill of the dead. that he could not love him like a father. Siddhartha understood that the mourning. he also saw and understood that the eleven-year-old was a pampered boy. Siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased. Pale. always picked the best piece of the meal for him. pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. he honoured his mourning. accustomed to finer food.

watching. the old men had split the work. Siddhartha waited for his son to understand him. For long months. and Siddhartha. For a long time. did not want to do any work. did the work in the hut and the field. did not pay his respect to the old men. when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his . and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition. and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. then Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace. One day. he had called himself. but suffering and worry. to accept his love. when the boy had come to him. for long months. But he loved him. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut. stole from Vasudeva's fruit-trees. to perhaps reciprocate it.Rich and happy. Since time had passed on in the meantime. since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart. Vasudeva waited. waited and said nothing. in order to be with his son. Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself.

like you. "Pardon me. That young bird is accustomed to a different life. He has not. I asked the river. "How could I part with him?" he said quietly. and is shaking with laughter at out foolishness.wishes and had broken both of his rice-bowls. is worrying you. oh friend. I'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself. and he is also worrying me. I'm seeing that you're in grief. it laughs at you and me. you too should listen to it!" Troubled. being disgusted and fed up with it. many times I have asked it. ran away from riches and the city. my dear! See. he had to leave all this behind. I'm fighting for him. youth wants to join youth. I'm talking to you. Your son. my dear. "from a friendly heart. "Give me some more time. Siddhartha looked into his friendly face. Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him. But the river laughs. Water wants to join water." he said. in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. against his will. I'm seeking to win his heart. ashamed. it laughs at me. with love and . your son is not in the place where he can prosper. to a different nest. You too should ask the river.

and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and . But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him. Tell me. You don't force him. his heart is proud and hard." Vasudeva's smile flourished more warmly. know what he is called upon to do. love stronger than force. 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. he too is called upon. what actions to perform. burden themselves with much sin. people like this have to suffer a lot. after all. "Oh yes. you and me. Very good. what pain to endure? Not a small one. don't give him orders. don't beat him. One day. I praise you. I don't do anything of this. But do we." "I knew it. he too is of the eternal life. Vasudeva. do much injustice. wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day. he also is called upon. his pain will be. the river shall also talk to him. Water stronger than rocks. what path to take.with friendly patience I intent to capture it. because you know that 'soft' is stronger than 'hard'. err a lot.

to whom even rice is a delicacy. And when there aren't any around any more. not for the teachings' sake. to live in a hut with two old banana-eaters." Siddhartha spoke sadly. who had no tender heart anyhow. I have thought of this. how shall I put him. whose thoughts can't be his. Siddhartha looked to the ground. give him to them. won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes. and in the world which is his own. whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced. the arrogant and pampered boy. But look. there'll still be servants around. isn't he punished by all this?" Troubled. he asked: "What do you think should I do?" Quoth Vasudeva: "Bring him into the city. Quietly. won't he lose himself to pleasure and power. won't he perhaps get entirely lost in Sansara?" . but so that he shall be among other boys. bring him into his mother's house. "Often. into this world? Won't he become exuberant.patience? Don't you force him. bring him to a teacher. Have you never thought of this?" "You're seeing into my heart. and among girls.

his own search able to keep him safe? Which father. from finding his path for himself? Would you think. have you entirely forgotten that story. the ferryman's smile lit up. from foolishness? Were his father's religious devotion.Brightly. which you once told me here on this very spot? Who has kept the Samana Siddhartha safe from Sansara. because . which teacher had been able to protect him from living his life for himself. that story containing so many lessons. from greed. from sin. his teachers warnings. because you love him. from soiling himself with life. admonition? My dear. he touched Siddhartha's arm and said: "Ask the river about it. a Brahman's son. his own knowledge. that story about Siddhartha. 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. my dear. anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? That perhaps your little son would be spared. softly. from drinking the bitter drink for himself. from burdening himself with guilt. prayer.

he could not give up the boy. stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy. his fear to lose him. had he ever loved any person thus. Vasudeva had told him nothing. could not sleep for a long time. He said nothing and waited.you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you would die ten times for him. Siddhartha thanked him. the silent war of patience. But this was a knowledge he could not act upon. Vasudeva also said nothing and waited. he began the mute struggle of friendliness. he let him disregard him. he had not already thought and known for himself. and yet thus happily? Siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice. you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself. Had he ever lost his heart so much to something. thus blindly. thus sufferingly. thus unsuccessfully. patient. . He let the boy give him orders. daily. They were both masters of patience." Never before. knowing. Vasudeva had spoken so many words. friendly. Kindly. stronger was his tenderness. went troubled into the hut.

Now he too felt. the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. Indeed. was nevertheless renewed in one respect. Siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which Kamala a long time ago. and was nevertheless in bliss. . as it had seemed to him at that time. loving another person. he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person. when the boy's face reminded him very much of Kamala. suffered miserably. and this was." she had said to him. once in his lifetime.At one time. But now. to forget himself. since his son was here. had also become completely a childlike person. and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star. never he had been able to do this. and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line. enriched by one thing. this strongest and strangest of all passions. to commit foolish acts for the love of another person. now he. Siddhartha. having become a fool on account of love. had once said to him. late. in the days of their youth. "You cannot love. suffered from it. lost to a love. suffering for the sake of another person. while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves.

something very human. all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. was a passion. soft man. this pain also had to be endured.He did sense very well that this love. a good. he was bored by him. every insult with friendliness. this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. He was bored by this father. these foolish acts also had to be committed. perhaps a saint. kind. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had . who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his. this blind love for his son. it was necessary. Through all this. dark waters. he felt at the same time. let him court for his affection. it was not worthless. He was a good man. this father. every viciousness with kindness. This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. the son let him commit his foolish acts. that it was Sansara. Nevertheless. let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. perhaps a very devout man. came from the essence of his own being. and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile. a murky source. This pleasure also had to be atoned for.

that you won't hit me. A day came. clenched his fists. just as devout. in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was. you're not my father. and go to hell. just as wise! But I. The latter had given him a task. "Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth. you don't dare. and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" Rage and grief boiled over in him. than to become like you! I hate you. and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face. I do know. just to make you suffer. I rather want to become a highway-robber and murderer. just as soft. that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. You want me to become like you.been threatened by him. "I'm not your servant. if he had been abused by him. I do know. he had told him to gather brushwood. and he openly turned against his father. But the boy did not leave the hut. thumped on the ground with his feet. foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil . when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth. listen up.

He'll perish. my friend. He's looking for the path to the city. which the boy has taken away. Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank.words. he had disappeared. to get over the water. woven out of bast of two colours. "I must follow him. We must build a raft. "to get our boat back. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night. Vasudeva. he knows how to get around. who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches. he is no child any more. I see you suffering. But him." said Vasudeva. don't forget that. but you're suffering a pain at which one would like . The boat had also disappeared. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself." said Siddhartha. you shall let run along. he's taking his course." "We will build a raft. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. Alas. He's taking care of himself. Siddhartha. But the next morning. The boy had ran away. What had also disappeared was a small basket. the boy had made yesterday. and he is right. in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare.

He started making a new oar. to look for the run-away." But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. the boy would have thrown away or broken the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. at which you'll soon laugh for yourself. and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo.to laugh. But Siddhartha bid his farewell." Siddhartha did not answer. . drifted far off their course. He thought. Vasudeva did not stop him. Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost. And in fact. Then they crossed over. Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile. pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. 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. there was no oar left in the boat.

if he should still be on his way. just to perhaps see him one more time. The past rose up in his soul. a bearded. Nevertheless. the pursuer. which used to belong to Kamala. no longer to save him.When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time. that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-garden. he also found that he. naked Samana. was not worried for his son. For a long time. the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city. When. he would conceal himself from him. Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden. just to satisfy his desire. so he thought. he reached a wide road. he ran without stopping. the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. where he had seen her for the first time in her sedan-chair. he stopped. the hair full of dust. again he saw himself standing there. And he ran up to just outside of the city. As he continued thinking. . near the city. or. Either. young. on his part. seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees.

was once again old and tired. which had made him go up to this place. felt once again the wish to annihilate himself. felt once again disgust. he stood there. Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish. Clearly. breathed Sansara. saw young Siddhartha in their place. pondering. Deeply. After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time. the orgies. the musicians. was once again healed by the holy Om. looked at the monks. he felt the love for the runaway in his heart. that it had . saw the servants. that he was not allowed to cling him. lived through all this once again. saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. For a long time. saw Kamala's song-bird in the cage. like a wound. he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala. looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism. He saw Kamaswami. seeing images. the gamblers with the dice. receiving his first kiss from her. he stood there. that he could not help his son. listening to the story of his life. and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it.For a long time.

listening. saw no joy any more. having patience. there was now emptiness. waited for a voice. and since he crouched for many hours. without seeing a path. listening attentively. . and dust was gathering on his gray hair. The old man did not see him. saw no images any more. in the dust of the road. This he had learned by the river. no goal. felt something dying in his heart. he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. this one thing: waiting. And when he felt the wound burning. made him sad. He sat lost in thought and waited. listened to his heart. he sat down. at this hour. Sadly. beating tiredly and sadly. he silently spoke the Om. The monks in the garden saw him. experienced emptiness. That this wound did not blossom yet. filled himself with Om. one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. Instead of the desired goal. which had drawn him here following the runaway son. let himself fall. did not shine yet. Many an hour he crouched. fell into emptiness.to become a blossom and had to shine. From this petrified state. And he sat and listened.

After this. In the hut. and when after a while Vasudeva came to him. neither one mentioned the boy's name. to offer him a bowl of coconutmilk. picked them up. he already found him asleep. ate the other one himself. he recognised this touch. and regained his senses. OM For a long time. into the small wrinkles. Siddhartha lay down on his bed. which were as if they were filled with nothing but his smile. neither one spoke about the wound.Instantly. bashful touch. He rose and greeted Vasudeva. this tender. he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva. neither one spoke about him running away. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was . gave one to the ferryman. Neither one talked about what had happened today. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face. who had followed him. the wound continued to burn. returned home to the ferry. Now he saw the bananas lying in front of him. then he smiled too. into the happy eyes.

" Thus simply. and he saw none of them without envying him. but instead warmer. even thieves and robbers have children and love them. even became worthy . less smart. childlike people. desires for possession. women. all except for me.accompanied by a son or a daughter. these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them. became understandable. he understood and shared their life. thus similar to the childlike people he had become. he now looked upon people. warriors. but solely by urges and wishes. more involved. became lovable. their vanities. Differently than before. he felt like them. thus without reason he now thought. without thinking: "So many. When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind. Though he was near perfection and was bearing his final wound. businessmen. so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes—why don't I? Even bad people. more curious. it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers. and are being loved by them. which was not guided by thoughts and insight. and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him. less proud.

And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour. each of their acts. strongly living. saw them achieving infinitely much for their sake. strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more. he saw life. The blind love of a mother for her child. this thought was . all of this childish stuff. bearing infinitely much. all of these simple. their blind strength and tenacity. travelling. all of these urges. a single. but immensely strong. the Brahman in each of their passions. whether this knowledge. suffering infinitely much. They lacked nothing. tiny. the thinker. the blind. Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty. foolish. there was nothing the knowledgeable one. the indestructible. blind pride of a conceited father for his only son. small thing: the consciousness. the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men. had to put him above them except for one little thing. he saw people living for their sake.of veneration to him. the stupid. wild desire of a young. and he could love them for it. conducting wars. that what is alive.

Slowly blossomed. seem to be superior to humans in their tough. in some moments. Slowly this blossomed in him. after all. were often far superior to them. knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world. while living his life. to think every moment. what wisdom actually was. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul. of the thinking and childlike people. unrelenting performance of what is necessary. an ability. allowed the pain to gnaw at him.to be valued thus highly. smiling. But the wound still burned. the knowledge. longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son. nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart. a secret art. childlike face: harmony. the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men. In all other respects. to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. was shining back at him from Vasudeva's old. the thought of oneness. what the goal of his long search was. just as animals too can. committed all foolish acts . oneness. whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people. slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation.

and as he thought about it. this flame would go out. had forced his father to let him go to the penitents. and he saw his face reflected in the quietly moving waters. alone. but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! It laughed clearly. Not by itself. the Brahman. he bent over the water. Siddhartha ferried across the river. which reminded him. in order to hear even better. which he used to know and love and also fear. without having seen his . how he had bed his farewell to him. when the wound burned violently. something he had forgotten. which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died. Siddhartha stopped. how he had gone and had never come back. driven by a yearning. got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. and in this reflected face there was something. And he remembered how he. It resembled his father's face. The river laughed. The river flowed softly and quietly. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him. he found it: this face resembled another face. a long time ago. it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman. it was the dry season. as a young man. And one day.of love.

his heart was still fighting his fate. his eyes were starting to get weak. he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to Vasudeva. laughed at by the river. he felt hope. thinking of his son. Unchanged and flourishing . everything came back. tending towards despair. to say everything. this repetition. at odds with himself. to show him everything. the wound was not blossoming yet. and once he had returned to the hut. and not just his eyes. the same pain was suffered over and over again.son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy. and not less tending towards laughing along at (?? über) himself and the entire world. the master of listening. Vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket. his arms and hands as well. Yes. so it was. a strange and stupid matter. thinking of his father. Nevertheless. He no longer used the ferry-boat. this running around in a fateful circle? The river laughed. cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. But Siddhartha went back into the boat and ferried back to the hut. which had not been suffered and solved up to its end. Alas.

Siddhartha sat down next to the old man. a childish run-away. of his futile fight against them.was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. spoke for a long time. of his walk to the city. Vasudeva's listening gave Siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before. how the river had laughed. While he . until it had cooled and become one with the river. he was able to say everything. his fears flowed over to him. While he spoke. everything could be said. everything he could tell. of the burning wound. at that time. he now told him of. He reported everything. also told how he fled today. came back at him from his counterpart. of his envy at the sight of happy fathers. of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes. he sensed how his pain. even the most embarrassing parts. slowly he started talking. What they had never talked about. how he ferried across the water. He presented his wound. how his secret hope flowed over. everything shown. willing to walk to the city. To show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river. while Vasudeva was listening with a quiet face.

was still speaking. Vasudeva turned his friendly eyes. the less wondrous it became. that he was God himself. yes. the more he realised that everything was in order and natural. that he was now seeing old Vasudeva as the people see the gods. this realisation of Vasudeva's changed character took possession of him. in his heart. who was listening to him. and that this could not last. When he had finished talking. Thorough all this. no longer a human being. that only he had not quite recognised it. that he himself had almost reached the same state. and the more he felt it and entered into it. still admitting and confessing. he started bidding his farewell to Vasudeva. almost forever. at him. that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain. he talked incessantly. said nothing. let his silent love . which had grown slightly weak. that this motionless man was the river itself. that he was the eternal itself. Siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer Vasudeva. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound. that Vasudeva had already been like this for a long time. He felt.

" They listened. led him to the seat by the bank. Siddhartha looked into the water. each one heading for his goal. lonely as well. it flowed towards its goal. Softly sounded the river. "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. lamentingly its voice sang. "But you haven't heard everything. lonely. you'll hear more. "You've heard it laugh. understanding and knowledge. sat down with him. the boy." he said. Siddhartha nodded. his son appeared. shine at him. longingly. and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared. each one suffering. . "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. The river sang with a voice of suffering. mourning for his son. greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes. he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son. he himself appeared.and cheerfulness. He took Siddhartha's hand. Let's listen. longingly it sang. each one obsessed by the goal. singing in many voices. smiled at the river. lonely.

he had ever seen. and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky. full of suffering. longing. the river. the waterfall. all of these waves and waters were hurrying. the lake. But the longing voice had changed. and the image of Govinda. For the goal. a stream. turned into rain and poured down from the sky. good and bad voices. searching. It still resounded. The image of his father. the river was heading. desiring. full of burning woe. suffering. and every goal was followed by a new one. laughing and sad ones. his own image. . flowed on once again. and other images. the image of his son merged. headed forward once again. turned into a source. and the river's voice sounded full of yearning. the sea. Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed. and all goals were reached. headed all. the rapids. but other voices joined it. turned all into the river. for the goal. Siddhartha saw it hurrying. suffering. which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people.Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. voices of joy and of suffering. full of unsatisfiable desire. a river. being the river. many goals. towards goals. and they merged with each other.

All of it together was the flow of events.a hundred voices. everything was intertwined and connected. all pleasure. Often before. this song of a thousand voices. all voices. He was now nothing but a listener. completely concentrated on listening. all goals. these many voices in the river. the scream of rage and the moaning of the dying ones. today it sounded new. all yearning. And everything together. all of this together was the world. a thousand voices. entangled a thousand times. the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one. completely empty. Siddhartha listened. all that was good and evil. Already. was the music of life. that he had now finished learning to listen. all suffering. when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self . they all belonged together. he felt. not the happy ones from the weeping ones. everything was one. not the ones of children from those of men. he could no longer tell the many voices apart. when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river. he had heard all this.

with the current of life. perceived the whole. Siddhartha stopped fighting his fate." Vasudeva's gaze asked again. Brightly his smile was shining. His wound blossomed. the oneness. full of sympathy for the pain of others. devoted to the flow. stopped suffering. When Vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank. which was Om: the perfection. which knows perfection. and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on Siddhartha's face as well. In this hour.into it. his self had flown into the oneness. Brightly. belonging to the oneness. On his face flourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge. Vasudeva's smile was shining. but when he heard them all. floating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face. which is no longer opposed by any will. which is in agreement with the flow of events. then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word. when he looked at his friend. "Do you hear. when he . full of sympathy for the pleasure of others. as the Om was floating in the air over all the voices of the river. his suffering was shining.

he left. "I've known it. Siddhartha watched him leaving.looked into Siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them. hut. For a long time. he softly touched his shoulder with his hand. Siddhartha!" Siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. With a bright smile. with deep solemnity he watched him leave. Now that it has come. saw his steps full of peace. my dear. and said: "I've been waiting for this hour. for a long time. river. saw his head full of lustre. With deep joy. GOVINDA . Now it's enough. in this careful and tender manner. saw his body full of light." spoke Vasudeva with a bright smile. I've been Vasudeva the ferryman. farewell. "You'll go into the forests?" "I'm going into the forests. I've been waiting for this hour. farewell. let me leave. I'm going into the oneness. Farewell." he said quietly.

though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty. and when they got off the boat on the other side. smiling from his old eyes: "Do you call yourself a searcher. a searcher for the right path?" Quoth Siddhartha. Aren't you too. Because. Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasuregrove. When Govinda went back on his way. ferryman. eager to see the ferryman. which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. though you are already of an old in years and . you have already ferried many of us across the river. though he had lived his entire life by the rules. who lived one day's journey away by the river. and who was regarded as a wise man by many. he chose the path to the ferry. the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. He heard talk of an old ferryman. oh venerable one.Together with other monks. He came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over. he said to the old man: "You're very good to us monks and pilgrims.

But finding means: being free. having no goal. "then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for. that he is unable to find anything. I'm old. You too. come?" asked "When someone is searching. are perhaps indeed a searcher. oh venerable one? Perhaps that you're searching far too much? That in all that searching. Would you like to tell me something. oh venerable one. oh honourable one?" Quoth Siddhartha: "What should I possibly have to tell you. You. being open. "but I haven't stopped searching." said Siddhartha. because he has a goal. there are many . to let anything enter his mind. because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search. you don't find the time for finding?" "How Govinda. striving for your goal. have been searching. because he is obsessed by the goal. so it seems to me. Never I'll stop searching." spoke Govinda. Searching means: having a goal. this seems to be my destiny. because.are wearing the Gotama's monks?" robe of "It's true.

which are directly in front of your eyes. many years ago. and have sat down with him to guard his sleep." Astonished. oh venerable one. I'm greeting you." Govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed . my friend. you did not recognise the sleeping man. from my heart. have to wear many a robe. my dear. the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. But. Be welcome. Govinda. have to change a lot.things you don't see." asked Govinda. I'm happy to see you once again! You've changed a lot. you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river. "Are you Siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice. and spend the night in my hut. "I wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! From my heart. as if he had been the object of a magic spell.—And so you've now become a ferryman?" In a friendly manner. Govinda. "what do you mean by this?" Quoth Siddhartha: "A long time ago. oh Govinda. yes. Many people. Siddhartha." "I don't quite understand yet. "A ferryman. I am one of those. Siddhartha laughed.

I have had many teachers since then. I'm also grateful to him. Govinda said. my dear. When in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey. Many questions he posed to the friend of his youth. I've also learned from him. he sat with me when I had fallen asleep in the forest. Nevertheless. many things Siddhartha had to tell him from his life. Once. A beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time. or a knowledge. and some gamblers with dice. started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. not without hesitation. even a follower of Buddha. I have stuck with this.which used to be Vasudeva's bed. and a rich merchant was my teacher. travelling on foot. But most of all. permit me to ask one more question. which helps you to live and to do right?" Quoth Siddhartha: "You know. that I already as a young man. these words: "Before I'll continue on my path. very grateful. Do you have a teaching? Do you have a faith. Siddhartha. I have learned . in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest. has been my teacher. on the pilgrimage. you follow.

Look. I believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. . Vasudeva. though you've found no teachings. yes. and insight. Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness. again and again. as one would feel life in one's heart. oh Siddhartha. which I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. Sometimes. he was a perfect man. but it would be hard for me to convey them to you." Govinda said: "Still. for an hour or for an entire day. certain insights. He was a very simple person. he was no thinker. a saint. this is one of my thoughts. my dear Govinda.here from this river and from my predecessor. as it seems to me. the ferryman Vasudeva." "Are you kidding?" asked Govinda. There have been many thoughts. I have felt knowledge in me. you would delight my heart. you love a bit to mock people. But haven't you found something by yourself." Quoth Siddhartha: "I've had thoughts. but he knew what is necessary just as well as Gotama. you still found certain thoughts. which are your own and which help you to live? If you would like to tell me some of these.

miracles can be performed with it. 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. but which is my best thought. I'm telling you what I've found. what has driven me away from the teachers. there is no other way for him who wants to teach. It cannot be done differently. This was what I. But the world itself. he had to divide it into Sansara and Nirvana. all lacks completeness. It can be found. Govinda. When the exalted Gotama spoke in his teachings of the world. what exists around us and inside of us. but not wisdom. I have found a thought. sometimes suspected. Everything is one-sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words. oneness. into deception and truth. but it cannot be expressed in words and taught."I'm not kidding. A person or an act is never entirely Sansara or . even as a young man. into suffering and salvation. all just one half. it is possible to be carried by it. roundness. it's all one-sided. it can be lived. which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness. Knowledge can be conveyed. is never onesided.

which I am and which you are.entirely Nirvana. And if time is not real. he is not in the process of developing. Time is not real. you have to worship in him. The world. is not imperfect. my dear. then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity. between suffering and blissfulness. his future is already all there. he will reach the Nirvana. or . but in times to come he will be Brahma again. I have experienced this often and often again. listen well! The sinner. It does really seem like this. because we are subject to deception. Govinda. within the sinner is now and today already the future Buddha. asked "Listen well. my friend Govinda." "How come?" Govinda timidly. as if time was something real. will be Buddha— and now see: these 'times to come' are a deception. a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. between evil and good. is also a deception. No. are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha. the possible. the hidden Buddha. though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. in you. is a sinner. in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being.

I needed lust. In deep meditation. everything has to be as it is. Therefore. everything is Brahman. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much. the desire for possessions. vanity. to see all life which was. sin like holiness. all small children already have the old person in themselves. everything is perfect. all dying people the eternal life. the Buddha is waiting. there is the possibility to put time out of existence. everything only requires my consent. to do nothing but work for my benefit. all infants already have death. wisdom like foolishness. in order to learn how . It is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path. and needed the most shameful despair. it is perfect in every moment. death is to me like life. in the Brahman. to be good for me. is. only my willingness. I see whatever exists as good. and there everything is good.on a slow path towards perfection: no. in the robber and dicegambler. to be unable to ever harm me. and will be as if it was simultaneous. the robber is waiting. my loving agreement. all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself.

it belongs to the world of the Maja. that it is a stone. it is also Buddha. In the past. therefore I also grant it importance. but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it." Siddhartha bent down. it is also god. it is also animal. I would have said: This stone is just a stone. Thus. .to give up all resistance. in order to learn how to love the world." he said playing with it. perhaps turn into soil. and will. but rather because it is already and always everything— and it is this very fact. it is worthless. in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished. "is a stone.—These. after a certain time. I would perhaps have thought in the past. and weighed it in his hand. some kind of perfection I had made up. But today I think: this stone is a stone. oh Govinda. I do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that. are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind. picked up a stone from the ground. I imagined. "This here. but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations. and will turn from soil into a plant or animal or human being.

Or perhaps what I meant was.that it appears to me now and today as a stone. The words are not good for the secret meaning. others like sand. gets distorted a bit. "Why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. in the sound it makes when I knock at it. this is why I love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities. each one is Brahman. in the yellow. There are stones which feel like oil or soap." Govinda listened silently. I also very much agree with this. and this is this very fact which I like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship. is oily or juicy. "I did it without any specific intention. a bit silly—yes. as soon as it is put into words. but simultaneously and just as much it is a stone.—But let me speak no more of this. in the gray. and others like leaves. that love this very . and I like it a lot. in the hardness. everything always becomes a bit different. in the dryness or wetness of its surface. and this is also very good. and every one is special and prays the Om in its own way. that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person.

a holy man. and the river. To be honest. Govinda. and things can be loved. is Nirvana. no softness. my dear: I don't differentiate much between thoughts and words." Quoth Govinda: "Not just a word. no edges. It is a thought. I have a better opinion of things." Siddhartha continued: "A thought. they have no hardness. nothing else. I can love a stone.stone. and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn. no taste. my friend. He had noticed that the river's spoke . and also a tree or a piece of bark. I also have no high opinion of thoughts. they have nothing but words. I must confess to you. it might be so. no smell. Here on this ferry-boat. teachings are no good for me. But I cannot love words. There is no thing which would be Nirvana. a man has been my predecessor and teacher. Therefore. Govinda. Sansara and Nirvana as well. Perhaps it are these which keep you from finding peace. This are things. perhaps it are the many words. who has for many years simply believed in the river. for instance. Because salvation and virtue as well. no colours. are mere words. there is just the word Nirvana.

every bird. seems to me to be the most important thing of all. Let the things be illusions or not. to ." spoke Siddhartha. it educated and taught him. "I do not care very much about. I can love them. This is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. without books. after all I would then also be an illusion. actually something real. and thus they are always like me. But when this holy man went into the forests. every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. every cloud. Therefore. the river seemed to be a god to him. knew more than you and me. only because he had believed in the river.to him. something which has existence? Isn't it just a deception of the Maja. To thoroughly understand the world. And this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love. for many years he did not know that every wind. oh Govinda." Govinda said: "But is that what you call `things'. he knew everything. without teachers. just an image and illusion? Your stone. your river— are they actually a reality?" "This too. he learned from it. your tree.

I know that I am in agreement with Gotama. not to hate it and me. and yet loved people thus much.explain it. to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect. I distrust in words so much. this contradiction is a deception. my words of love are in a contradiction. he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things." "This I understand. to despise it. his smile shone golden. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world." spoke Govinda. he. in their meaninglessness. in the dispute about words. Govinda. to use a long." said Siddhartha. How should he not know love. may be the thing great thinkers do. "But this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception. sympathy. And behold. who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness. "I know it. for I know." "I know it. He commands benevolence. For I cannot deny. clemency. laborious life only to . tolerance. with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions. a seeming contradiction with Gotama's words. but not love. For this very reason. not to despise it.

I prefer the thing over the words. nothing strange. even with your great teacher." (But secretly he thought to himself: This Siddhartha is a bizarre person. more on the gestures of his hand than his opinions. Then spoke Govinda. while bowing for a farewell: "I thank you. or silly is contained in them. to teach them! Even with him. So differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings. the two old men said nothing. I see his greatness. This being as it may. place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches. Not in his speech. Siddhartha. only in his actions. I thank you. his eyes. his breath. purer. his greeting." For a long time. his walk. foolish. not all have been instantly understandable to me. his teachings sound foolish. he expresses bizarre thoughts. for telling me some of your thoughts. in his life. more comprehensible. and I wish you to have calm days. after our exalted Gotama has become one with . not in his thoughts. They are partially strange thoughts. clearer. his forehead. Never again. his smile. But different from his thoughts seemed to me Siddhartha's hands and feet.help them.

Govinda stared at his face.) As Govinda thought like this. "Siddhartha. I confess that I haven't found it. Tell me. . It is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. out of his gaze and his hand. Deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. and there was a conflict in his heart." Siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged. my path. he once again bowed to Siddhartha. never since then have I met a person of whom I felt: this is a holy man! Only him. May his teachings be strange. which I can understand! Give me something to be with me on my path." he spoke. drawn by love. I see. out of every part of him shines a purity. It is often hard. this Siddhartha. Siddhartha. I have found to be like this. shines a calmness. one more word. quiet smile. give me something on my way which I can grasp. "we have become old men. oh honourable one. shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness.the Nirvana. his skin and his hair. often dark. beloved. may his words sound foolish. that you have found peace. which I have seen in no other person since the final death of our exalted teacher.

eternal not-finding. even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead. 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. and yet drawn by great love and expectation. Govinda!" But while Govinda with astonishment. while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time. which all . which all came and disappeared. saw it and "Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear. and the eternal search was visible in his look. obeyed his words. many. bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips. this happened to him: He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha. suffering. something miraculous happened to him. of hundreds.with fear. and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously. with yearning. a flowing river of faces. instead he saw other faces. of thousands. a long sequence. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words. "Bend down to me! Like this. Siddhartha smiled.

of elephants. kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword—he saw the bodies of men and women. each one helping the other. he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person—he saw. giving re-birth to it. of crocodiles. red and full of wrinkles. motionless. was always re-born. with fading eyes—he saw the face of a new-born child. loving it. distorted from crying—he saw the face of a murderer. saw Krishna. void— he saw the heads of animals. received evermore a new face. He saw the face of a fish. of bulls. hating it. and yet none of them died.constantly changed and renewed themselves. destroying it. naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love—he saw corpses stretched out. saw Agni—he saw all of these figures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another. of birds— he saw gods. of boars. this criminal in bondage. each one was a will to die. without . in the same second. the face of a dying fish. with an infinitely painfully opened mouth. cold. and which were still all Siddhartha. a passionately painful confession of transitoriness. each one only transformed. a carp.

this smile of the mask. as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. Govinda knew. whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years. this smile of oneness above the flowing forms. floated along and merged with each other. perhaps mocking. and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face.any time having passed between the one and the other face—and all of these figures and faces rested. and they were all constantly covered by something thin. but yet existing. generated themselves. which he. without individuality of its own. like a thin glass or ice. the Buddha. a shell or mold or mask of water. wise. this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same. flowed. Govinda saw it like this. Like this. the perfected ones are smiling. delicate. Govinda. not knowing any more whether . Not knowing any more whether time existed. like a transparent skin. thousand-fold smile of Gotama. this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths. perhaps benevolent. was precisely of the same kind as the quiet. and this mask was smiling. impenetrable. in this very same moment touched with his lips. And.

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

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