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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse 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] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-‐8859-‐1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIDDHARTHA *** Produced by Michael Pullen, Chandra Yenco, Isaac Jones
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
To Romain Rolland, my dear friend
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 _ig 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 re_lection, the service of meditation. He already knew how to speak the Om silently, the word of words, to speak it silently into himself while inhaling, to speak it silently out of himself while exhaling, with all the concentration of his soul, the forehead surrounded by the glow of the clear-‐thinking spirit. He already knew to feel Atman in the depths of his being, indestructible, one with the universe. Joy leapt in his father's heart for his son who was quick to learn, thirsty for knowledge; he saw him growing up to become great wise man and priest, a prince among the Brahmans. Bliss leapt in his mother's breast when she saw him, when she saw him walking, when she saw him sit down and get up, Siddhartha, strong, handsome, he who was walking on slender legs, greeting her with perfect respect. Love touched the hearts of the Brahmans' young daughters when Siddhartha walked through the lanes of the town with the luminous forehead, with the eye of a king, with his slim hips. But more than all the others he was loved by Govinda, his friend, the son of a Brahman. He loved Siddhartha's eye and sweet voice, he loved his walk and the perfect decency of his movements, he loved
everything Siddhartha did and said and what he loved most was his spirit, his transcendent, _iery thoughts, his ardent will, his high calling. Govinda knew: he would not become a common Brahman, not a lazy of_icial in charge of offerings; not a greedy merchant with magic spells; not a vain, vacuous speaker; not a mean, deceitful priest; and also not a decent, stupid sheep in the herd of the many. No, and he, Govinda, as well did not want to become one of those, not one of those tens of thousands of Brahmans. He wanted to follow Siddhartha, the beloved, the splendid. And in days to come, when Siddhartha would become a god, when he would join the glorious, then Govinda wanted to follow him as his friend, his companion, his servant, his spear-‐carrier, his shadow. Siddhartha was thus loved by everyone. He was a source of joy for everybody, he was a delight for them all. But he, Siddhartha, was not a source of joy for himself, he found no delight in himself. Walking the rosy paths of the _ig tree garden, sitting in the bluish shade of the grove of contemplation, washing his limbs daily in the bath of repentance, sacri_icing in the dim shade of the mango forest, his gestures of perfect decency, everyone's love and joy, he still lacked all joy in his heart. Dreams and restless thoughts came into his mind, _lowing from the water of the river, sparkling from the stars of the night, melting from the beams of the sun, dreams came to him and a restlessness of the soul, fuming from the sacri_ices, breathing forth from the verses of the Rig-‐Veda, being infused into him, drop by drop, from the teachings of the old Brahmans. Siddhartha had started to nurse discontent in himself, he had started to feel that the love of his father and the love of his mother, and also the love of his friend, Govinda, would not bring him joy for ever and ever, would not nurse him, feed him, satisfy him. He had started to suspect that his venerable father and his other teachers, that the wise Brahmans had already revealed to him the most and best of their wisdom, that they had already _illed his expecting vessel with their richness, and the vessel was not full, the spirit was not content, the soul was not calm, the heart was not satis_ied. The ablutions were good, but they were water, they did not wash off the sin, they did not heal the spirit's thirst, they did not relieve the fear in his heart. The sacri_ices and the invocation of the gods were excellent— but was that all? Did the sacri_ices give a happy fortune? And what about the gods? Was it really Prajapati who had created the world? Was it not the Atman, He, the only one, the singular one? Were the gods not creations, created like me and you, subject to time, mortal? Was it therefore good, was it right, was it meaningful and the highest
where did He reside. of food. this innermost part. the irreproachable one. the Brahmans and their holy books. pure as honey collected by bees. into every step of the way. of inhaling. the scholar. in his deep sleep. from the books. His father was to be admired. wise his words. have to drink from holy sources. as a thirsty man.occupation to make offerings to the gods? For whom else were offerings to be made. who else was to be worshipped but Him. the pure one. who knew so much. the acts of the gods. not the father. they knew everything. pure his life. the most venerable one. not the holy sacri_icial songs! They knew everything. would meet with his innermost part and would reside in the Atman. where did his eternal heart beat. 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. chie_ly his father. which everyone had in himself? But where. the most important thing. where the priests. it was neither thought nor consciousness. they had taken care of everything and of more than everything. the creation of the world. quiet and noble were his manners. many verses of the holy books. So. the Atman? And where was Atman to be found. not to be looked down upon was the tremendous amount of enlightenment which lay here collected and preserved by innumerable generations of wise Brahmans. No. the self. and it was written that man in his sleep. not knowing that one and only thing. into word and deed? Siddhartha knew many venerable Brahmans. where the wise men or penitents. where else but in one's own self. which was worthwhile looking for? Alas. where. particularly in the Upanishades of Samaveda. there was another way. in its indestructible part. delicate and noble thoughts lived behind its brow —but even he. from the offerings.— But where were the Brahmans. of exhaling. strive for a . they knew in_initely much—but was it valuable to know all of this. Marvellous wisdom was in these verses. did he have peace. thus the wisest ones taught. the origin of speech. in its innermost part. "Your soul is the whole world". did he live in blissfulness. was written there. spoke of this innermost and ultimate thing. nobody knew it. the solely important thing? Surely. a thirsty man? Did he not. where was this self. this ultimate part? It was not _lesh and bone. have to wash off sins every day. from the disputes of the Brahmans? Why did he. the arrangement of the senses. the only one. was he not also just a searching man. again and again. myself. where was it? To reach this place. into the life. and not the teachers and wise men. all knowledge of the wisest ones had been collected here in magic words. and nobody showed this way. wonderful verses. the Atman.
ready to speak the Om. The evening had come. The Brahman is the arrow's target. it seemed near. Often he spoke to himself from a Chandogya-‐Upanishad the words: "Truly. will enter the heavenly world every day. let's practise meditation. Siddhartha right here. Siddhartha did not answer. the heavenly world. he knew and whose instructions he had received. While putting himself down. his eyes were rigidly focused towards a very distant target. And among all the wise and wisest men. it had to be possessed! Everything else was searching. come with me under the Banyan tree. was a detour. he seemed not to breathe. the heavenly world. thinking Om. but never he had reached it completely. Behind them blew a hot scent of quiet passion. He called Siddhartha's name. . he who knows such a thing. it was time to perform the evening's ablution." Often. the arrow is soul. who had reached it completely. the eternal thirst. Once. his soul sent after the Brahman as an arrow. Govinda rose. Siddhartha sat there lost in thought. with dusty and bloody shoulders. Govinda twenty paces away. wrapped up in contemplation." Siddhartha spoke to his friend. After the usual time of the exercise in meditation had passed. never he had quenched the ultimate thirst. scorched by the sun. That one should incessantly hit. ascetics on a pilgrimage. this was his suffering. almost naked. "Govinda. who had quenched it completely. among all of them there was no one. Thus were Siddhartha's thoughts. the pristine source in one's own self. surrounded by loneliness.cleansing every day. was getting lost. my dear. Siddhartha repeated murmuring the verse: Om is the bow. strangers and lank jackals in the realm of humans. did not the pristine source spring from his heart? It had to be found." They went to the Banyan tree. Thus sat he. strangers and enemies to the world. of destructive service. this was his thirst. the tip of his tongue was protruding a little between the teeth. Samanas had travelled through Siddhartha's town. three skinny. neither old nor young. "Govinda. they sat down. over and over every day? Was not Atman in him. withered men. the name of the Brahman is satyam—verily. of merciless self-‐ denial.
his arms folded. Tomorrow. "will your father permit you to do that?" Siddhartha looked over as if he was just waking up. silent and motionless sat the father on the mat." The Brahman fell silent." Quoth Siddhartha: "With your permission." he exclaimed. Soon and with the _irst glance. my father. He will become a Samana.In the evening." Indignant. now Siddhartha is taking his own way. my friend. and stepped behind his father and remained standing there." Slowly. But indignation is in my heart. unstoppable like the arrow shot from the bow. "O Siddhartha. he went to his bed and lay down. "O Govinda. until his father felt that someone was standing behind him. read the fear. Speak no more of it. Silent and motionless stood the son with his arms folded. I wish not to hear this request for a second time from your mouth. when he heard these words and read the decision in the motionless face of his friend. "let's not waste words. Arrow-‐fast he read in Govinda's soul. my own. My desire is to become a Samana. and the stars traced their paths in the sky. 'ere the silence was broken. the Brahman rose. "What are you waiting for?" asked the father. read the submission. and remained silent for so long that the stars in the small window wandered and changed their relative positions. I came to tell you that it is my longing to leave your house tomorrow and go to the ascetics. Siddhartha spoke to Govinda: "Early tomorrow morning. May my father not oppose this. at daybreak I will begin the life of the Samanas. indignant. Govinda realized: Now it is beginning. And he turned pale like a dry banana-‐skin. the father left the chamber. and with his. where his father was sitting on a mat of bast. after the hour of contemplation. Quoth the Brahman: "Is that you." Siddhartha entered the chamber. Siddhartha? Then say what you came to say." he spoke quietly. Siddhartha stood silently. Siddhartha will go to the Samanas." Govinda turned pale. . now his fate is beginning to sprout. Quoth Siddhartha: "You know what. Then spoke the father: "Not proper it is for a Brahman to speak harsh and angry words.
and evening?" "I will stand and wait. Pale shimmered his bright robe. And in the night's last hour." "You will fall asleep. saw the young man standing there. Siddhartha. he came back after two hours." ." "I will die. silently. _illed his heart with unrest." "You will die. he looked into the chamber. _illed it with sadness. "You will become tired. moonlight re_lecting from his bare shins." "And would you rather die." he spoke. With worry in his heart. and left the house. stepped into the room." "Will you always stand that way and wait. the father went back to bed. the Brahman stood up again. and there he saw Siddhartha standing. looked through the small window. After another hour." "I will not fall asleep. not moving from his spot. until it'll becomes morning. Through the small window of the chamber he looked back inside. noon. saw Siddhartha standing. _illed his heart with anguish. there stood Siddhartha. And he came back hour after hour. Siddhartha." "I will become tired. the Brahman stood up. since no sleep had come over his eyes. in the moon light. he returned. the father returned to his bed. in the darkness. Siddhartha. Through the window of the chamber he looked back inside. And he came back after an hour. since no sleep had come over his eyes. _illed his heart with anger. by the light of the stars. his arms folded. than obey your father?" "Siddhartha has always obeyed his father. before the day began. paced to and fro. not moving from his spot. his arms folded. "Siddhartha. "what are you waiting for?" "You know what.After an hour. With anxiety in his heart. walked out of the house and saw that the moon had risen. paced to and fro. saw him standing in the same place. who seemed tall and like a stranger to him.
Siddhartha wavered to the side. his eyes were _ixed on a distant spot."So will you abandon your plan?" "Siddhartha will do what his father will tell him to do. "go into the forest and be a Samana. "I have come." said Govinda. As he slowly left on stiff legs in the _irst light of day the still quiet town. as he tried to walk. bowed to his father. The Brahman saw that Siddhartha was trembling softly in his knees. and went to his mother to do as his father had said. who had crouched there. "You will. But for me it is time to go to the river and to perform the _irst ablution. Then his father realized that even now Siddhartha no longer dwelt with him in his home. He put his limbs back under control. and joined the pilgrim—Govinda. "You have come." said Siddhartha and smiled. When you'll have found blissfulness in the forest." He took his hand from the shoulder of his son and went outside. a shadow rose near the last hut." The _irst light of day shone into the room. that he had already left him. Go now and kiss your mother." he spoke. then come back and teach me to be blissful. . then return and let us once again make offerings to the gods together. tell her where you are going to. In Siddhartha's face he saw no trembling. If you'll _ind disappointment. The Father touched Siddhartha's shoulder.
a single goal: to become empty. and the penitent stood there. from his hair the water was dripping over freezing shoulders. until nothing stung any more. and it all was just concealed putrefaction. empty of dreams. he stood there in the rainy season. until nothing burned any more. A goal stood before Siddhartha. it all stank. and offered them their companionship and—obedience. unsown cloak. Silently. until no blood _lowed any more. and never something cooked. Siddhartha sat upright and learned to breathe sparingly. it all stank of lies. They were accepted. mourners wailing for their dead. shaggy beard grew on his chin. He . when he walked through a city of nicely dressed people. the great secret. long nails grew slowly on his parched _ingers and a dry. physicians trying to help the sick. lovers loving. whores offering themselves. which is no longer my self. Dead to himself. until they were silent. princes hunting. Feverish dreams _lickered from his enlarged eyes. priests determining the most suitable day for seeding. the skinny Samanas. He ate only once a day. not to be a self any more. glowing with pain. learned to get along with only few breathes. until they were quiet. He fasted for twenty-‐eight days. and stood there. empty of joy and sorrow. learned to stop breathing. Once all of my self was overcome and had died. over freezing hips and legs. to _ind tranquility with an emptied heard. He saw merchants trading.WITH THE SAMANAS In the evening of this day they caught up with the ascetics. until he neither felt any pain nor thirst any more. and Siddhartha stayed rigidly. it all pretended to be meaningful and joyful and beautiful. empty of thirst. empty of wishing. The _lesh waned from his thighs and cheeks. it all lied. glowing with thirst. Siddhartha exposed himself to burning rays of the sun directly above. until he could not feel the cold in his shoulders and legs any more. he cowered in the thorny bushes. from festering wounds dripped pus. then the ultimate part of me had to awake. Silently. blood dripped from the burning skin. Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. once every desire and every urge was silent in the heart. his mouth twitched with contempt. His glance turned to ice when he encountered women. Life was torture. The world tasted bitter. that was his goal. the innermost of my being. He wore nothing more than the loincloth and the earth-‐coloured. Silently. to be open to miracles in unsel_ish thoughts. stayed motionless. mothers nursing their children—and all of this was not worthy of one look from his eye. He fasted for _ifteen days.
their end nevertheless always led back to the self. a thousand times he left his self. in the shade or in the rain. through imagining the mind to be void of all conceptions. the return was inevitable. sun shone or moon. thirst. was wood. until they were only a few and almost none. was his self again. lay on the banks. Siddhartha learned a lot when he was with the Samanas. By his side lived Govinda. Occasionally the two of them went through the villages. But though the ways led away from the self. And Siddhartha's soul returned. when he found himself back in the sunshine or in the moonlight. walked the same paths. awaited in new thirst like a hunter in the gap. Siddhartha practised self-‐ denial. was the dead jackal. was carrion. got bloated. felt thirst. He went the way of self-‐ denial by means of meditation. had decayed. A heron _lew over the bamboo forest—and Siddhartha accepted the heron into his soul. leaned to reduce the beats of his heart. inescapable was the hour. was a heron. where he could escape from the cycle. Instructed by the oldest if the Samanas. _lew over forest and mountains. beginning with the breath. than the service and the exercises required. These and other ways he learned to go. decayed. A dead jackal was lying on the sandy bank. spoke the heron's croak. stank. turned to dust. according to a new Samana rules. was skinned by vultures. he killed his memory. felt new thirst. where the end of the causes. and again felt the agony of the cycle which had been forced upon him. and awoke every time to _ind his old self again. undertook the same efforts. overcame the thirst. he slipped out of his self into thousands of other forms. turned into a skeleton. practised meditation. hunger. was an animal. felt the pangs of a heron's hunger. for hours and days he remained in the non-‐self. died a heron's death. He killed his senses.learned. ate _ish. They rarely spoke to one another. had tasted the gloomy intoxication of the cycle. to beg for food for themselves and their teachers. to calm the beat of his heart. and was once again his self and Siddhartha. was stone. turned round in the cycle. was water. had died. through voluntarily suffering and overcoming pain. his shadow. He went the way of self-‐ denial by means of pain. tiredness. stayed in nothingness. was dismembered by hyaenas. in the stone. where an eternity without suffering began. was blown across the _ields. many ways leading away from the self he learned to go. was scattered as dust. stayed in the animal. . and Siddhartha's soul slipped inside the body. Though Siddhartha _led from the self a thousand times.
he'll _ind the same what Siddhartha and Govinda _ind when they escape their bodies through long exercises. often the old Samanas have admired you. it's true that he brie_ly escapes and rests. The same escape. insensitivity against hunger and pain there among these wretched people?" And Siddhartha said quietly. oh Siddhartha. among carters and gamblers I could have learned it. But that I. up to this day. staying in the non-‐self. When he falls asleep over his bowl of rice-‐wine." Quoth Govinda: "You say so. oh Govinda. and we'll continue learning. I've never been a drunkard. but he'll return from the delusion. Siddhartha. _inds everything to be unchanged. then he _inds a short numbing of the senses. drinking a few bowls of rice-‐wine or fermented coconut-‐milk." Quoth Govinda: "Siddhartha is putting me on." And Siddhartha spoke with a smile: "I do not know. oh friend. you've learned every exercise." Siddhartha spoke one day while begging this way. it is a short numbing of the senses against the pain and the pointlessness of life. you'll be a holy man. has gathered no enlightenment. How could you have learned meditation. You'll be a great Samana. Then he won't feel his self any more. I could have learned more quickly and by simpler means.—has not risen several steps. Quickly."How do you think. my friend. from salvation. this. It's true that a drinker numbs his senses. then he won't feel the pains of life any more. "how do you think did we progress? Did we reach any goals?" Govinda answered: "We have learned. oh Govinda. holding your breath." Quoth Siddhartha: "I can't help but feel that it is not like this." And once again. and yet you know that Siddhartha is no driver of an ox-‐cart and a Samana is no drunkard. this I know. my friend. another time. when Siddhartha left the forest together with Govinda. One day. oh Govinda. to beg for some food in the village for their . Govinda. 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 _leeing from the self. as a child in the mother's womb. What I've learned. this I know. has not become wiser. _ind only a short numbing of the senses in my exercises and meditations and that I am just as far removed from wisdom. Siddhartha. the same short numbing is what the driver of an ox-‐cart _inds in the inn. This is how it is. it is a short escape of the agony of being a self. In every tavern of that part of a town where the whorehouses are. being among the Samanas.
Oh Govinda. It took me a long time and am not _inished learning this yet." And Siddhartha: "He has lived for sixty years and has not reached the nirvana. among so many austere and venerable Samanas. there is still much to learn. I have asked the Brahmans. But the most important thing. we have already ascended many a level. And so I'm starting to believe . he won't and we won't. Siddhartha." "If you only. among so many Brahmans. year after year. a slightly mocking voice: "Soon. He'll turn seventy and eighty." spoke Govinda. oh Govinda. There is. oh Govinda: that there is nothing to be learned! There is indeed no such thing. not a single one. is our oldest Samana. I believe out of all the Samanas out there. had been just as smart and just as pro_itable. this is Atman. "wouldn't speak such terrible words. I always thirsted for knowledge. so I believe. as what we refer to as `learning'. Govinda. we learn feats. we will not _ind. and I have asked the devote Samanas. year after year. the path of paths. I'm suffering of thirst. and will meditate. But we will not reach the nirvana. oh Govinda. this is everywhere. would you think. just one knowledge. we are moving up. and I have asked the holy Vedas. so many who are eagerly trying. perhaps not a single one. and will fast. we _ind numbness. and you and me. We are not going around in circles. the circle is a spiral. a slightly sad. 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. so many holy men. with a quiet. we will grow just as old and will do our exercises. it had been just as well. he has walked along your side for so long. who have thought we were escaping the cycle?" Quoth Govinda: "We have learned a lot. Siddhartha! How could it be that among so many learned men. Perhaps. among so many who are searching. and on this long path of a Samana. your friend will leave the path of the Samanas. will reach the nirvana. no one will _ind the path of paths?" But Siddhartha said in a voice which contained just as much sadness as mockery." Siddhartha answered: "How old. year after year. if I had asked the hornbill-‐bird or the chimpanzee. We _ind comfort. oh Govinda.brothers and teachers. to deceive others. oh my friend. our venerable teacher?" Quoth Govinda: "Our oldest one might be about sixty years of age. my thirst has remained as strong as ever. Siddhartha began to speak and said: "What now. I have always been full of questions. this is within me and within you and within every creature.
you words stir up fear in my heart. he thought. the Brahmans spoke of it and in the forest. Yes. in the yellow cloak of an ascetic. only would not bother your friend with this kind of talk! Truly. again and again. the Buddha. without home. loses himself in the meditation of Atman. oh Siddhartha. But Siddhartha remained silent. 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 would then become of all of this what is holy. the exalted one. this legend resounded. this rumour. surrounded by disciples. here and there. This myth. with good and with bad talk. what is precious. a knowledgeable one. if it was as you say. a myth reached them after being retold many times: A man had appeared. when the two young men had lived among the Samanas for about three years and had shared their exercises. without possession. of a puri_ied spirit. a rumour. the Samanas. he had overcome the suffering of the world in himself and had halted the cycle of rebirths. whose word and breath was enough to heal everyone who had been infected with the pestilence. some news. in the towns. what of the holiness of the Samanas. a wise man. teaching. At one time. Gotama by name. but with a cheerful brow. if there was no learning?! What. Siddhartha. rose his hands." At this. He thought about the words which Govinda had said to him and thought the words through to their end. Govinda stopped on the path. what of the venerability of the Brahmans' caste. unexpressable by words is his blissfulness of his heart. a man of bliss. 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. and Brahmans and princes would bow down before him and would become his students. with praise and with defamation. He was said to wander through the land. the Buddha reached the ears of the young men. the name of Gotama. and spoke: "If you. its fragrants rose up. than learning. And just consider: what would become of the sanctity of prayer. without a wife. standing there with his head low.that this knowledge has no worser enemy than the desire to know it. what is venerable on earth?!" And Govinda mumbled a verse to himself. a verse from an Upanishad: He who ponderingly.
oh Govinda. if only we both would too. the wise man of the family of Sakya. drop by drop. and also Govinda. this made my chest ache when I breathed. They rarely talked about it. had overcome the devil. and in his house. felt a longing. here a source seemed to spring forth. every drop laden with doubt. I had thought. and a Brahman invited me into his house. He possessed.and as such news would go through the land and everyone would talk about it. had spoken to the gods. and knew neither exercises nor self-‐castigation. The myth of Buddha sounded sweet. mild. life was hard to bear— and behold. the world was sick. comforting. the young men listened up. the exalted one. because the oldest one of the Samanas did not like this myth. he remembered his previous lives. this Gotama was a vain seducer. he had performed miracles." Govinda spoke one day to his friend. Siddhartha and me. always I had believed his goal was to live to be sixty and seventy years of age and to keep on practising . Many wonderful and unbelievable things were reported of him. scorned the offerings. and thought to myself: If only I would too. the highest enlightenment. many would believe. who has seen the Buddha with his own eyes and has heard him teach. Verily. was without learning. he would spent his days in luxury. After all. I was in the village. But his enemies and disbelievers said. full of noble promises. everywhere in the lands of India. but had then turned back to luxury and worldly pleasures. but many would get on their way as soon as possible. every drop laden with hope. The myth had also reached the Samanas in the forest. Govinda would stay with the Samanas. "Oh Siddhartha. The scent of magic _lowed from these reports. wouldn't we want to go there too and listen to the teachings from the Buddha's mouth?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Always. friend. and also Siddhartha. that fragrant myth of Gotama. he had reached the nirvana and never returned into the cycle. many would doubt. here a messenger seemed to call out. the Buddha. live to see the hour when we will hear the teachings from the mouth of this perfected man! Speak. just like this this myth ran through the land. the Sakyamuni. and among the Brahmans' sons of the towns and villages every pilgrim and stranger was welcome. felt hope. to seek the wise man. was never again submerged in the murky river of physical forms. there was the son of a Brahman from Magadha. He had heard that this alleged Buddha used to be an ascetic before and had lived in the forest. "Today. the helper. slowly. and he had no high opinion of this Gotama. Everywhere where the rumour of Buddha was heard. when he brought news of him. so the believers said.
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. oh friend. to do silently. Mock me if you like. where the Buddha spreads his teachings. want to take a new path and go there. But Siddhartha put his mouth close to Govinda's ear and whispered to him: "Now. my faithful friend. that he wanted to leave him. with a concentrated soul. his . But the Samana became angry. my dear.those feats and exercises. which is that I have grown distrustful and tired against teachings and learning. I knew little of his heart. and said: "Well." Quoth Govinda: "Your willingness delights my heart. to hear these teachings? And have you not at one time said to me. he captured the old man's glance with his glances. consisted in him calling us away from the Samanas! Whether he has also other and better things to give us. even before we have heard them. He informed the oldest one with all the courtesy and modesty becoming to a younger one and a student. I want to show the old man that I've learned something from him. you've remembered correctly. which are brought to us by teachers. subdued him under his own will. The old man became mute. in which his voice assumed a touch of sadness and a touch of mockery. But behold." Positioning himself closely in front of the Samana. you've heard from me." On this very same day. I had not known Govinda well enough. and talked loudly and used crude swearwords. you've spoken well. have already revealed their best fruit to us?" Quoth Siddhartha: "Let us eat this fruit and wait for the rest. you would not walk the path of the Samanas for much longer?" At this. Siddhartha! But have you not also developed a desire. oh Govinda! But this fruit. deprived him of his power. an eagerness. which we already now received thanks to the Gotama. Siddhartha informed the oldest one of the Samanas of his decision. But let's do it. which are becoming a Samana. Siddhartha laughed in his very own manner. If you only remembered the other thing as well. So now you. Govinda was startled and became embarrassed. Govinda. and that my faith in words." Quoth Govinda: "You're mocking me. let us await with calm hearts. took away his free will. whatever he demanded him to do. is small. commanded him. how should this be possible? How should the Gotama's teachings. made him mute. But tell me. because the two young men wanted to leave him.
you have learned more from the Samanas than I knew. But Siddhartha's thoughts brought the Samana under their control. performed gestures of blessing. returned the wish. if you had stayed there. you would soon have learned to walk on water. his will was paralysed." said Siddhartha. it is very hard to cast a spell on an old Samana." "I do not seek to walk on water. And the young men returned the bows with thanks. without power. "Let old Samanas be content with such feats!" . he had fallen victim to Siddhartha's spell. spoke stammeringly a godly wish for a good journey. what they commanded. Govinda said: "Oh Siddhartha. And thus. the old man made several bows. went on their way with salutations.eyes became motionless. Truly. he had to carry out. It is hard. his arms were hanging down. On the way.
the exalted one. where the Buddha dwells. They thanked and left and hardly had to ask for directions. every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha. you Samanas from the forest. On many days. and full of joy he exclaimed: "Well so. for we are two Samanas from the forest and have come. an obedient worshipper of the exalted one. oh mother of the pilgrims. had given him and his people for a gift. who handed them the food: "We would like to know. accustomed to life in the forest. thus we have reached our destination. leaving with a _illed dish. I have seen him. the perfected one. . Govinda listened and wanted to ask and hear much more. and every house was prepared to _ill the alms-‐dish of Gotama's disciples. oh charitable one. to hear the teachings from his mouth. There you pilgrims shall spent the night. for there is enough space for the innumerable. All tales and answers." Delightedly. The two Samanas. do you know him. You should know. And since they reached it at night. found quickly and without making any noise a place to stay and rested there until the morning. and they accepted the food." This made Govinda happy. shouts. the silently begging ones. Near the town was Gotama's favourite place to stay. and Siddhartha asked the woman. and our path has come to an end! But tell us. presenting his alms-‐dish in silence at the doors of the houses. which the two young ascetics had received in their search for Gotama's abode. before the door of which they stopped to beg. who _lock here. wearing his yellow cloak." Quoth the woman: "Here. the grove of Jetavana. But Siddhartha urged him to walk on. there were constant arrivals. to see him. in Jetavana. 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. you have truly come to the right place.GOTAMA In the town of Savathi. in the garden of Anathapindika is where the exalted one dwells. which the rich merchant Anathapindika. had pointed them towards this area. the Buddha. food has been offered to them. in the very _irst house. the most venerable one. for rather many pilgrims and monks as well from Gotama's community were on their way to the Jetavana. walking through the alleys in silence. And arriving at Savathi. and talk of those who sought shelter and got it.
Govinda looked at the monk in the yellow robe. under the trees they sat here and there. He saw him. the shady gardens looked like a city. his calm face was neither happy nor sad. But attentively he looked at Gotama's head. Siddhartha did not answer. Govinda also realized: This is the one. The majority of the monks went out with their alms-‐dish. it seemed to smile quietly and inwardly. to collect alms. he did not believe that they would teach him anything new." Attentively. wore the robe and placed his feet just as all of his monks did. his quietly dangling hand and even every _inger of his quietly dangling hand expressed peace. they saw with astonishment what a large crowd of believers and curious people had spent the night here. his shoulders. quiet. no desire. by the quietness of his appearance. Thus Gotama walked towards the town. in deep contemplation—or in a conversation about spiritual matters. a simple man in a yellow robe. "This one is the Buddha. but he had. and the two Samanas recognised him solely by the perfection of his calm. to collect food in town for their lunch. in which there was no searching. The Buddha himself. did not imitate. and it seemed to him as if every joint of every _inger of this hand was of . an untouchable peace. breathed softly in an unwhithering calm. modestly and deep in his thoughts. "Today. monks walked in yellow robes. his feet. and he instantly recognised him. bustling like bees. And soon. no imitation. we'll hear the teachings from his mouth. The Buddha went on his way. in an unwhithering light. calm. full of people. was also in the habit of taking this walk to beg in the morning. But his face and his walk. "Look here!" Siddhartha said quietly to Govinda. With a hidden smile. the only meal of the day." said Govinda. though these reports only represented second-‐ or third-‐hand information. no effort to be seen. his quietly lowered glance. only light and peace. who seemed to be in no way different from the hundreds of other monks. somewhat resembling a healthy child. his quietly dangling hand. as if a god had pointed him out to him. did not search. walking silently. the Buddha walked. heard the contents of this Buddha's teachings again and again. Siddhartha saw him. And they followed him and observed him. according to a precise rule.At sunrise. the enlightened one. just as Govinda had. expressed perfection. bearing the alms-‐dish in his hand. He felt little curiosity for the teachings. On all paths of the marvellous grove.
Govinda has heard the teachings. then Govinda." and he asked to accepted into the community of his disciples and was accepted. We have both heard the exalted one. never before he had loved a person as much as this one. was full of peace. also stepped forward and spoke: "I also take my refuge in the exalted one and his teachings. This man was holy. They saw Gotama returning—what he ate could not even have satis_ied a bird's appetite. for they themselves intended to abstain from on this day. sought refuge in the teachings. when the heat cooled down and everyone in the camp started to bustle about and gathered around. it is not my place to scold you. They heard his voice. full of suffering was the world. taught the four main doctrines.these teachings. Gotama taught the teachings of suffering. like a light. my honoured friend. we have both perceived the teachings. This man. But you. glistened of truth. don't you also want to walk the path of salvation? Would you want to hesitate. spoke of." Behold. the shy one. exhaled the fragrant of. to put an end to all suffering. brightly and quietly his voice hovered over the listeners. Thus join us and walk in holiness. yet _irm voice the exalted one spoke. Never before. of the origin of suffering. Govinda turned to Siddhartha and spoke eagerly: "Siddhartha. patiently he went the usual path of the teachings. of the examples. When the Buddha—night had already fallen—ended his speech. when the Buddha had retired for the night. many a pilgrim stepped forward and asked to accepted into the community. Siddhartha had venerated a person so much. they heard the Buddha teaching. taught the eightfold path. breathed of. this Buddha was truthful down to the gesture of his last _inger. And Gotama accepted them by speaking: "You have heard the teachings well. Calmly and clearly his quiet speech _lowed on. Right afterwards. and they saw him retiring into the shade of the mango-‐trees. and it was also perfected. of the repetitions. But in the evening. Suffering was life. it has come to you well. of the way to relieve suffering. like a starry sky. They both followed the Buddha until they reached the town and then returned in silence. With a soft. do you want to wait any longer?" . he has taken refuge in it. was of perfect calmness. but salvation from suffering had been found: salvation was obtained by him who would walk the path of the Buddha.
my learned friend. how could I _ind a fault in them?" Very early in the morning." For a long time. "Siddhartha!" he exclaimed lamentingly. when he heard Govinda's words. I'll leave you. This is what the teachings require. that you also. that you shall _ind salvation!" Govinda. my friend. Then he spoke quietly. out of his own soul? Behold. embraced once again his childhood friend and left with the novices. now you have chosen this path. this is what the exalted one wants. renounced your birth and possessions. Govinda urged his friend. Govinda realized that his friend had left him. Govinda. . he looked into Govinda's face. he should tell him why he would not want to seek refuge in Gotama's teachings. Often I have thought: Won't Govinda for once also take a step by himself. But Siddhartha turned him away every time and said: "Be content. that you are now one of the Samanas of the Buddha! You have renounced your home and your parents. I wish that you would go it up to its end. oh Govinda. repeated his question in an impatient tone: "Speak up. Tomorrow. now you've turned into a man and are choosing your path for yourself. in a voice without mockery: "Govinda. not completely understanding it yet. to dress them up in the yellow robe and to instruct them in the _irst teachings and duties of their position. now you have taken this step. one of his oldest monks. For a long tome. went through the garden and called all those to him who had as novices taken their refuge in the teachings. my dear! Tell me. I beg you. Always. since it could not be any other way. renounced your free will. Siddhartha kindly spoke to him: "Don't forget. the friends continued walking in the grove. oh Govinda. oh my friend. you've been my friend. oh Govinda. they lay there and found no sleep. and he started to weep. And over and over again. for a long time. Then Govinda broke loose. that you shall _ind salvation!" In this moment. renounced all friendship. what fault he would _ind in these teachings. Govinda! Very good are the teachings of the exalted one. This is what you wanted for yourself. I'm repeating it: I wish that you would go this path up to its end. will take your refuge with the exalted Buddha!" Siddhartha placed his hand on Govinda's shoulder: "You failed to hear my good wish for you.Siddhartha awakened as if he had been asleep. a follower of Buddha. you've always walked one step behind me. without me.
the Buddha nodded his approval." "As you please. I had come from afar. Never before. the exalted one. this unity and necessary sequence of all things is nevertheless broken in one place. the young man summoned his courage and asked the venerable one for the permission to talk to him. the entire eternal and uniform law of the . not depending on gods. to hear your teachings. an eternal chain the links of which are causes and effects. Everything in your teachings is perfectly clear. Then he happened to meet Gotama. by the same law of causes. something new. oh most venerable one. whether living according to it would be suffering or joy. Whether it may be good or bad. I had been privileged to hear your wondrous teachings. I do not wish to discuss. But with this small gap. But according to your very own teachings. that everything which happens is connected. truly. this has been presented so irrefutably. Quoth Siddhartha: "Yesterday. "but I do not want to leave the exalted one without having honestly told him my thoughts. possibly this is not essential—but the uniformity of the world.But Siddhartha walked through the grove. not depending on chance. And now my friend is going to stay with your people. through a small gap. a chain which is never and nowhere broken. this world of unity is invaded by something alien. clear as a crystal. without gaps. that the great and the small things are all encompassed by the same forces of time. of coming into being and of dying. the heart of every Brahman has to beat stronger with love. "Too bold is my speech. this is what shines brightly out of your exalted teachings. lost in thought. with this small breach. and which cannot be demonstrated and cannot be proven: these are your teachings of overcoming the world. something which had not been there before. is proven. this has been seen so clearly. oh exalted one. Does it please the venerable one to listen to me for one moment longer?" Silently. once he has seen the world through your teachings perfectly connected. and when he greeted him with respect and the Buddha's glance was so full of kindness and calm. But I will again start on my pilgrimage. oh perfected one. Quoth Siddhartha: "One thing." Siddhartha continued. never before. Silently the exalted one nodded his approval. of salvation." the venerable one spoke politely. Together with my friend. you are presenting the world as a perfect chain. I have admired in your teachings most of all. he has taken his refuge with you.
But let me say this one more thing: I have not doubted in you for a single moment. But the teachings." The Buddha's eyes quietly looked to the ground. the perfected one. But there is one thing which these so clear. This is what Gotama teaches. oh exalted one. in words and through teachings what has happened to you in the hour of enlightenment! The teachings of the enlightened Buddha contain much. You should think about this further. You are truly right. but to depart from all teachings and all teachers and to reach my goal by myself or to die. They have a different goal. that you have reached the goal. with his kind. nothing else. to avoid evil." Quietly. Please forgive me for expressing this objection. oh exalted one. I have not doubted for a single moment that you are Buddha. everyone can support them or discard them. to argue about words. you've heard from me. But be warned. quietly. oh seeker of knowledge. through meditation." "I wish that you. through enlightenment.world is breaking apart again and becomes void. these so venerable teachings do not contain: they do not contain the mystery of what the exalted one has experienced for himself. are no opinion. it teaches many to live righteously. their goal is salvation from suffering. and good for you that you've thought about it thus deeply. and of this hour. "I have not spoken to you like this to argue with you. It has not come to you by means of teachings! And—thus is my thought. oh exalted one. on your own path. and their goal is not to explain the world to those who seek knowledge. when I have heard the teachings. they may be beautiful or ugly. smart or foolish. would not be angry with me. there is little to opinions. in perfect equanimity his inscrutable face was smiling. It has come to you in the course of your own search. Gotama had listened to him.—nobody will obtain salvation by means of teachings! You will not be able to convey and say to anybody. with his polite and clear voice: "You've heard the teachings. when my eyes beheld a holy man. oh son of a Brahman. the highest goal towards which so many thousands of Brahmans and sons of Brahmans are on their way. oh venerable one. of the thicket of opinions and of arguing about words. he alone among hundreds of thousands. Now he spoke. But often. I'll think of this day. You have found salvation from death. through thoughts. This is what I have thought and realized." said the young man. There is nothing to opinions. . for I know there are none. You've found a gap in it. through realizations. better teachings. an error. unmoved. This is why I am continuing my travels—not to seek other.
oh stranger. that you shall reach the goal! But tell me: Have you seen the multitude of my Samanas. I wish to be able to glance and smile. and even more he has given to me. Truly."I wish. and his glance and half of a smile remained forever etched in Siddhartha's memory. oh Samana. who have taken refuge in the teachings? And do you believe. for then I had replaced my self with the teachings. He has deprived me of my friend. "that your thoughts shall not be in error. I have never before seen a person glance and smile. my friend. and the community of the monks!" With half of a smile. thus venerable. too. for myself alone. I'd fear that it might happen to me that only seemingly. I do not want to lower my glance before any other. since this man's teachings have not enticed me. Only for myself. oh Samana. not before any other. thus open. before whom I would have to lower my glance. my many brothers. thought Siddhartha. Well so. 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." exclaimed Siddhartha. "I wish that they shall all stay with the teachings.". sit and walk this way. a single man. "You know how to talk wisely. No teachings will entice me any more. with an unwavering openness and kindness. "You are wise. my duty to follow you. I am deprived. I am deprived by the Buddha. I must decide. I saw a man. Salvation from the self is what we Samanas search for. I must refuse. I must chose. oh exalted one. thus concealed. the one who had believed in me and now believes in him. truly. the venerable one spoke. sit and walk this way. that they shall reach their goal! It is not my place to judge another person's life. my love for you. Siddhartha thought." the venerable one spoke slowly. oh venerable one. who had been . thus free. only deceptively my self would be calm and be redeemed. but that in truth it would live on and grow. I also will seek to reach the innermost part of my self. he thought. Gotama looked into the stranger's eyes and bid him to leave with a hardly noticeable gesture. 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. If I merely were one of your disciples. Be aware of too much wisdom!" The Buddha turned away.
.my shadow and is now Gotama's shadow. myself. But he has given me Siddhartha.
to _ind the core of all peels in its unknown interior. Truly. what you have sought to learn from teachings and from teachers. then he felt that in this grove his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. I was willing to to dissect my self and peel off all of its layers. could only deceive it. where Govinda stayed behind. I wanted to free myself from. but had turned into a man. He pondered deeply. of me being Siddhartha! And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me. Buddha. the purpose and essence of which I sought to learn. and by this alone sensations turn into realizations and are not lost. only hide from it. stayed behind. It was the self. so it seemed to him. which was: "That I know nothing about myself. which I sought to overcome. He realized that he was no youth any more. the . down to the place where the causes lie. a single cause: I was afraid of myself. But I was not able to overcome it. as a snake is left by its old skin. stems from one cause. Slower. that one thing no longer existed in him. the perfected one. he had left him. as he was slowly walking along. Siddhartha pondered. He realized that one thing had left him. were still unable to teach you?" And he found: "It was the self. who have taught you much. could only _lee from it. was not able to accept his teachings. this mystery of me being alive. where the Buddha. a new thought. He pondered about this sensation.AWAKENING When Siddhartha left the grove. is the very essence of thinking. and right away another thought sprang forth from these. he walked along in his thoughts and asked himself: "But what is this. and what they. he now stopped as these thoughts caught hold of him. I was _leeing from myself! I searched Atman. the most holy one. about Siddhartha!" Having been pondering while slowly walking along. that Siddhartha has remained thus alien and unknown to me. of me being one and being separated and isolated from all others. the highest and wisest teacher. like diving into a deep water he let himself sink down to the ground of the sensation. which had accompanied him throughout his youth and used to be a part of him: the wish to have teachers and to listen to teachings. He had also left the last teacher who had appeared on his path. which _illed him completely. but become entities and start to emit like rays of light what is inside of them. because to identify the causes. as this my very own self. had to part with him. no thing in this world has kept my thoughts thus busy. Slowly walking along. even him. I searched Brahman.
the secret of Siddhartha." . I have. here was green. walked quickly like a man who knows what he has got to do. this is over. despicable to the deeply thinking Brahman. so it was still that very divinity's way and purpose. I have indeed awakened and have not been born before this very day. taking a deep breath. Blue was blue. there forest. and in its midst was he." he thought. as if he was seeing the world for the _irst time. I do not want to kill and dissect myself any longer. nor the ascetics. want to get to know myself. all this yellow and blue. wants to discover its meaning. in everything. "How deaf and stupid have I been!" he thought. river and forest. who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being. "now I would not let Siddhartha escape from me again! No longer. walking swiftly along. I have awakened. here blue. I want to learn from myself.Atman. I called the visible world a deception." He looked around. who scorns diversity. But I. No. "Oh. the sky and the river _lowed. nor Atharva-‐Veda. strange and mysterious was the world! Here was blue. on the path to himself. there sky. the ultimate part. entered Siddhartha for the _irst time through the eyes. in Siddhartha. was no longer a spell of Mara. colourful was the world. I want to begin my thoughts and my life with Atman and with the suffering of the world. the singular and divine lived hidden. to _ind a secret behind the ruins. the awakening one. Siddhartha. the divine part. all of it was beautiful. All of this. was no longer the veil of Maya. here was yellow. called my eyes and my tongue coincidental and worthless forms without substance. letter by letter." Siddhartha opened his eyes and looked around. And it was not long before he walked again. who seeks unity. nor any kind of teachings. "When someone reads a text. for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read. was no longer a pointless and coincidental diversity of mere appearances. scorned the symbols and letters. But I have lost myself in the process. Beautiful was the world. to be here yellow. he will not scorn the symbols and letters and call them deceptions. coincidence. The purpose and the essential properties were not somewhere behind the things. a smile _illed his face and a feeling of awakening from long dreams _lowed through him from his head down to his toes. and if also in the blue and the river. he will study and love them. river was river. want to be my student. all of it was mysterious and magical. Neither Yoga-‐Veda shall teach me any more. they were in them. but he will read them. life. and here Siddhartha. the forest and the mountains were rigid. and worthless hull.
I am not a priest any more. he also awoke to this realization: "But I am no longer the one I was. when he stopped as if a snake was lying on his path. more a self than before. Still. who was indeed like someone who had just woken up or like a new-‐born baby. spoke their language. shared their life. and a thousand monks were his brothers. I am no Brahman any more. Now. Now. he felt a cold in his chest. in which he was at home. no ascetic who would not _ind his refuge in the caste of the Samanas. where did he belong to? With whom would he share his life? Whose language would he speak? Out of this moment. and for a moment. suddenly. out of this moment of a cold and despair. a cleric. believed in his faith. after years as an ascetic. all of this is no longer alongside my path. a bird or a rabbit. he had been without home and had felt nothing. would when seeing how alone he was. Whatever should I do at home and at my father's place? Study? Make offerings? Practise meditation? But all this is over. No Brahman. nothing else was left. he felt cold and shivered. He felt: This had been the last tremor of the awakening. he had to start his life anew and start again at the very beginning. that he. only in this moment. had been a Brahman. Deeply. he also belonged to a caste. the last struggle of this birth. There was no nobleman who did not belong to the noblemen. Siddhartha emerged.In thinking this thoughts. Siddhartha stopped once again. the awoken one. and found refuge with them. spoke his language. and even the most forlorn hermit in the forest was not just one and alone. he was also surrounded by a place he belonged to. Govinda had become a monk. the grove of that exalted one. even in the deepest meditation. as a small animal. Nobody was thus alone as he was. would return to his home and his father. he had been his father's son. For many years. And it was not long until he walked again in long strides. wore the same robe as he. he he had every intention. But now. regarded as natural and took for granted. and for the time of one moment and breath. more _irmly concentrated. But he." Motionless. he inhaled. as if there was a snake lying in front of him on the path. When he had left in this very morning from the grove Jetavana. no worker that did not belong to the workers. started to proceed swiftly and . when he stood alone like a star in the sky. Because suddenly. Siddhartha remained standing there. already on the path towards himself. Siddhartha. he was nothing but Siddhartha. already awakening. his heart felt cold. he had also become aware of this: He. I am no ascetic any more. when the world melted away all around him. he felt it. who would not be regarded as Brahmans and lived with them. of a high caste.
heading no longer for home. no longer back. .impatiently. no longer to his father.
thus childlike. he saw the pike hungrily hunting for its dinner. for the world was transformed. stream and river. thus without distrust. birds sang and bees. every hour sped swiftly away like a sail on the sea. destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought. beautiful was the stream and the banks. without searching. a thousand-‐fold and colourful. Beautiful and lovely it was. he saw the stars in the sky in their _ixed positions and the crescent of the moon _loating like a boat in the blue. distant hight mountains which were blue and pale. thus childlike. his liberated eyes stayed on this side. All of this. always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed. propelling themselves away from it. _lowers. Differently the sun burnt the head. sought to be at home in this world. stars. and his heart was enchanted. animals. rainbows. Beautiful were the moon and the stars. wind silverishly blew through the rice-‐ _ield. herbs. clouds. differently the shade of the forest cooled him down. thus open to what is near. but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than a _leeting. In a lake of reeds. looking at it thus. the glistening dew in the bushes in the morning. the goat and the gold-‐beetle. wiggling . But now.SECOND PART Dedicated to Wilhelm Gundert. Siddhartha saw a group of apes moving through the high canopy of the forest. did not search for the true essence. had always been there. in fear. looked upon in distrust. thus simply. thus to walk through the world. the pumpkin and the banana tasted. Siddhartha saw a male sheep following a female one and mating with her. greedy song. At night. since this essence lay beyond. Short were the days. and under the sail was a ship full of treasures. full of joy. the _lower and the butter_ly. the visible. my cousin in Japan KAMALA Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path. rocks. high in the branches. did not aim at a world beyond. Beautiful was this world. on the other side of. short the nights. and heard their savage. He saw trees. differently the stream and the cistern. always the sun and the moon had shone. thus awoken. the forest and the rocks. he saw and became aware of the visible. since it was not the essential existence. He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests and setting over the distant beach with its palm-‐trees. deceptive veil before his eyes.
only to the voice. 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. if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. the divine Buddha. he had really found this self. both had to be listened to. except where the voice would advise him to do so. in the hour of all hours. because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. which the pike stirred up. he had obeyed the voice. this was good. Now. to be ready like this. except for what the voice commanded him to strive for. were pretty things. a voice in his own heart. this was necessary. dwell on nothing. this world of thought was also still on this side. No. the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them. from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived. the teaching he had heard there. what he now began to experience. both neither had to be scorned nor overestimated. To obey like this. not to an external command. in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. every word. ablutions. neither food nor drink. neither sleep nor dream. the Buddha's. All of this had always existed. . offerings. impetuously hunting. he had to experience his self. the conversation with the exalted one. where the enlightenment hit him? He had heard a voice. nor prayer. and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses. Now he was with it. so it also was not the thought. not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. at that time. Why had Gotama. not the learned wisdom. With the body de_initely not being the self.and sparkling. It is true that he had already known for a long time that his self was Atman. the young _ish jumped in droves out of the water. What he had said to Gotama: his. the farewell from Govinda. he had spoken to the exalted one. and not the spectacle of the senses. Again he remembered his own words. He wanted to strive for nothing. not the rational mind. the thoughts as well as the senses. sat down under the bo-‐tree. both had to be played with. and he had neither preferred self-‐castigation. 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 scent of strength and passion came forcefully out of the hasty eddies of the water. Light and shadow ran through his eyes. treasure and secret was not the teachings. and he had not seen it. but the unexpressable and not teachable. he had not been with it. Both. stars and moon ran through his heart. nothing else was necessary. which had commanded him to seek rest under this tree. But never. he was part of it. Siddhartha also remembered everything he had experienced in the Garden Jetavana. On the way.
" "I than you. Sad was how Govinda looked like. Siddhartha had a dream: Govinda was standing in front of him. the ferryman. It tasted of woman and man. often I have looked into its eyes. Siddhartha was happy about the friendship and the kindness of the ferryman. my benefactor. sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. Often I have listened to it. it was not Govinda any more. "Surely. at which Siddhartha lay and drank. This too." spoke Siddhartha." said the ferryman. "He is like Govinda. Samana. of sun and forest. I love it more than anything. to get him across the river. Smiling." he thought with a smile. of every joyful desire. my dear. The ferryman got him across the river on his bamboo-‐raft. "Yes. disembarking on the other side of the river. Commemorate me. Now farewell! Let your friendship be my reward. "all I meet on my path are like Govinda. but a woman. of every fruit." he said to his companion. and also no payment for your work.In the night when he slept in the straw hut of a ferryman by the river. "a very beautiful river. when you'll make offerings to the gods.—When Siddhartha woke up. the pale river shimmered through the door of the hut. I am a man without a home." Smiling. It intoxicated him and rendered him unconscious. I have learned from the river: everything is coming back! You too. will come back. sadly he asked: Why have you forsaken me? At this." "Do you think so?" asked Siddhartha amusedly. and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him. they parted. though they are the ones who would have a right to receive . a son of a Brahman and a Samana. the wide water shimmered reddishly in the light of the morning. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality. and always I have learned from it. Siddhartha asked his host." "I did see it. he embraced Govinda. wrapped his arms around him. You will give me the gift another time. "This is a beautiful river. and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress. Much can be learned from a river. All are thankful. of animal and _lower." spoke the ferryman. When the day began. and in the forest. "and I haven't expected any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom for guests to bear. a dark call of an owl resounded deeply and pleasantly. dressed in the yellow robe of an ascetic.
a young woman was kneeling and washing clothes. carrying baskets. Then she got up and came to him. with contracted pupils. He called out a blessing to her. beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. he had lived in the forests. and this voice said No. For a long time. All are submissive. While talking. like to obey. asked whether he had eaten already. he no longer saw anything else but the damp glance of a female animal in heat. In the end of the village. and the straw hut of the ferryman. and by the side of the stream. he petted her cheek. in a beautifully fenced grove. the traveller came across a small group of servants. he hesitated for a moment." At about noon. Politely.thanks. for he felt the need to be among people. the voice if his innermost self. he saw her face smiling full of lust and her eyes. In their midst. had been the _irst roof for a long time he has had over his head. so that he saw the white in her eyes glistening. Siddhartha also felt desire and felt the source of his sexuality moving. were playing with pumpkin-‐seeds and sea-‐shells. all charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face. Before the city. shuddering with awe. Then. In front of the mud cottages. think little. he bend slightly down to the woman and kissed with his lips the brown nipple of her breast. she lifted her head and looked up to him with a smile. turned away from her and disappeared away from the disappointed woman with light steps into the bamboo-‐wood. When Siddhartha greeted her. begging with desire. but since he had never touched a woman before. and since in this moment he had to think of his dream again. which the textbooks call "climbing a tree". On this day. he came through a village. screamed and wrestled. both male and female. Like children are all people. 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. and was happy. while his hands were already prepared to reach out for her. And in this moment he heard. She exchanged humorous banter with him. Siddhartha felt his blood heating up. as it is the custom among travellers. 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. Looking up. carried by four servants in an ornamental . and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. the path led through a stream. he reached the large city before the evening. all would like to be friends. in which he had slept that night. children were rolling about in the street. but they all timidly _led from the unknown Samana.
and his heart rejoiced. like a freshly cracked _ig. whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu. very delicate. Pursuing his goal. with wide golden bracelets over the wrists. but he thought about it. long and thin. comb his hair and anoint it with _ine oil. drifted through the _low of the streets. Siddhartha thought. Then he went to take his bath in the river. smart and watchful dark eyes. the maids. Among the boats by the river. Siddhartha saw how beautiful she was. he slept this night. saw the servants. which made to tower high on her head. the famous courtesan. I must not remain like this. whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building.sedan-‐chair. stood still on the squares. before the _irst customers came into his shop. The next person who came along this path he asked about the grove and for the name of the woman. and that. saw the sedan-‐chair and saw the lady in it. eyebrows which were well tended and painted in a high arch. he entered the city. And he laughed. Now he had a goal. resting fair hands. and straightening up again. charming face. and then the servant as well. he thought. the baskets. . he allowed the city to suck him in. rested on the stairs of stone by the river. He instantly felt drawn into the grove. with a charming omen. whom he told about stories of Vishnu and the Lakshmi. he looked at the fair. and only now he became aware of how the servants and maids had looked at him at the entrance. tall neck rising from a green and golden garment. the beautiful women nodded for a moment and disappeared into the grove. on red pillows under a colourful canopy. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-‐garden and watched the parade. I will not be able to enter the grove like this. how rejecting. sat a woman. When the evening came. when the sedan-‐chair came closer. and was told that this was the grove of Kamala. he had the barber's assistant shave his beard and cut his hair. a brightly red mouth. very smart face. With a smile. I am still an ascetic and beggar. a clear. and early in the morning. how distrustful. breathed in a slight fragrant. aside from the grove. Then. Thus I am entering this city. he saw a very fair. read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above. she owned a house in the city. he made friends with barber's assistant. the mistress. how despicable. Under black hair. he did not know. He bowed deeply. I am still a Samana.
greeting me?" asked Kamala. even before I had entered the city. I have come to you. But now. asked him. I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher. and left him alone with her. that a Samana came to me with long hair and an old.When late in the afternoon. they have perfume in their hair and money in their pouches. but they come in beautiful clothes. "Never before this has happened to me. you have seen everything. 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. Kamala. You have seen Siddhartha. was you. Kamala laughed aloud. how the young men are like who come to me. And asked: "And only to tell me this." "But didn't you yesterday wear a beard. that a Samana from the forest came to me and wanted to learn from me! Never before this has happened to me. they come in _ine shoes. who has left his home to become a Samana. for I know nothing yet of that art which you have mastered in the highest degree. without a word into a pavilion. torn loin-‐cloth! Many young men come to me. beautiful Kamala approached her grove in her sedan-‐chair. Never again I want to turn my eyes to the ground. the son of a Brahman. the servant returned. made a bow and received the courtesan's greeting. This is." Kamala smiled and played with her fan of peacocks' feathers. and long hair. Siddhartha was standing at the entrance." . when I'm coming across a beautiful woman. "It's true that I've already seen and greeted you yesterday. and there are also sons of Brahmans among them. my friend. and the _irst one I met. where Kamala was lying on a couch. "Weren't you already standing out there yesterday. and who has been a Samana for three years. and dust in your hair?" "You have observed well. I have left that path and came into this city. oh Samana. After a while. To say this. who was following him. oh Kamala! You are the _irst woman whom Siddhartha is not addressing with his eyes turned to the ground. Siddhartha has come to me?" "To tell you this and to thank you for being so beautiful." At this. to follow him conducted him. And if it doesn't displease you.
receiving it as a gift. have combed the hair. Do you know it now. Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth. pretty clothes. You shall know. buying. and his depth of thought? No. Clothes are what he must have. a stupid Samana from the forest. you have come up with the wrong path. for they are his very own. Siddhartha. I am not afraid of this." Siddhartha exclaimed. Kamala. and he would only give away from those whatever he is willing to give and to whomever he is willing to give. Did any Samana or Brahman ever fear. you'll see. He could force you.—But tell me. and gifts for Kamala. How shouldn't I reach that goal. oh excellent one: _ine clothes. but without clothes. thus you should also learn this: love can be obtained by begging. Like this it is. but it cannot be stolen. _inding it in the street. 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. Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such tri_les. I have marked your words. my dear. beautiful Kamala. I have already taken off my beard. money in my pouch. it would be a pity. and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it. And now let's get to it: You aren't satis_ied with Siddhartha as he is. and he has reached them. I have already learned harder things than what you're supposed to teach me. who is coming from the jackals and doesn't even know yet what women are?" "Oh. someone might come and grab him and steal his learning. "How should I not mark words which are coming from such a mouth! Your mouth is like a freshly cracked _ig. without shoes.Quoth Siddhartha: "Already I am starting to learn from you. if a pretty young man like you would want to tackle it in such a wrong manner. He could kidnap you. There is little which is still missing in me. He could hurt you. pretty shoes. and his religious devotion. Kamala exclaimed: "No. aren't you at all afraid of the Samana from the forest. Even yesterday." "No. who has come to learn how to make love?" "Whatever for should I be afraid of a Samana. _ine shoes. Samana. and shoes. he's strong. and lots of money in his pouch. Kamala. without money?" Laughing. with oil in his hair." . In this. and he isn't afraid of anything. it will be a suitable match for yours. precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. Samana from the forest? Did you mark my words?" "Yes. but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will. beautiful girl. which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easily. No. the Samana. My mouth is red and fresh as well. he doesn't satisfy me yet. have oil in my hair. I was already learning.
What might you be able to do?" "I can think. nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will return. What would be its title?" Siddhartha spoke. and how after this _irst one there was to be a long. clothes. Kamala kissed him. shoes. But yes. "It would be a pity. "Beautiful are your verses. money. lured him. I can wait. oh brown Samana. I'm losing nothing when I'm giving you a kiss for them. More lovely is offering to pretty Kamala. At the grove's entrance stood the brown Samana. There is no other way for a poor man to obtain money. Would you like to give me a kiss for a poem?" "I would like to. Deeply. you are so right! It would be such a great pity. if I'll like your poem. and smiling Kamala thanked. I can fast. that I'll _ind these three things most quickly?" "Friend. couldn't you still give me one small advice?" "An advice? Why not? Who wouldn't like to give an advice to a poor. a well ordered. well tested . thus advise me where I should go to. than offerings for gods. and truly. how wise she was. I shall not lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth. once he'll have have what he still lacks: clothes. I can also write poetry. For a long time. who is coming from the jackals of the forest?" "Dear Kamala. thought the young man. Bowed that man. seeing the lotus's blossom. But speak. You must do what you've learned and ask for money. after he had thought about it for a moment. ignorant Samana. lovely Kamala. Kamala loudly clapped her hands." "Nothing else?" "Nothing. More lovely. how she controlled him." She beckoned him with her eyes. rejected him. he tilted his head so that his face touched hers and placed his mouth on that mouth which was like a freshly cracked _ig. many would like to know this. and with a deep astonishment Siddhartha felt how she taught him. these verses: Into her shady grove stepped the pretty Kamala. and shoes in return. so that the golden bracelets clanged. No. Kamala.Siddhartha bowed with a smile.
being given upper garments as a gift." Kamala interrupted him." But to the maid she gave the order to give the pious Brahman white upper garments. bracelets. he remained standing where he was. "There's a visitor for me. everyone different from the others." exclaimed Kamala. brought into a garden-‐house avoiding the direct path. and urgently admonished to get himself out of the grove as soon as possible without being seen. fasting. It is very good that you're able to read and write." "The way you're able to kiss. Being accustomed to the forest. this I am able to do. he managed to get out of the grove and over the hedge without making a sound." said Siddhartha. making poetry?" "I also know the sacri_icial songs. Contently. carrying the . but I do not want to speak them any more.sequence of kisses. Siddhartha. Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid. Breathing deeply." In this moment. I also can't do it. led into the bushes." "Most people can't. But what will become of you? Aren't you able to do anything else but thinking. he was still to receive. and all beautiful things. I'll see you again. I also know magic spells. I can do this. You will also still _ind use for the magic spells. I would give you pieces of gold for them. I have read the scriptures—" "Stop. a maid came running in and whispered a message into her mistress's ear. Many people can do this. "Hurry and get yourself away. if you want to be Kamala's friend. Contently. which revealed itself before his eyes. "if I was rich. But it will be dif_icult for you to earn thus much money with verses as you need. shoes. "but I do not want to sing them any more. Kamala!" stammered Siddhartha. Without fully understanding what was happening to him. "Very beautiful are your verses. "Yes. he did as he had been told. he returned to the city. therefore I do not lack clothes. "You're able to read? And write?" "Certainly. For you need a lot of money." exclaimed Kamala. and was in this moment astonished like a child about the cornucopia of knowledge and things worth learning. nobody may see you in here. remember this! Tomorrow. very good.
he thought. and soon I'll be a merchant and have money and all those things you insist upon. and when she found out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and today. Now. "I'm opening one door after another for you. "You've been lucky. easy like that lessons in kissing. near goals." she called out to him. where travellers stay. Kamaswami is starting to get old and lazy. Be polite towards him. but you thought this was of no use. toilsome. and to fast. I will ask no one for food any more. The day before yesterday. you shall become his equal.rolled up garments under his arm. I was still a shaggy beggar. everything is easy. He was no Samana any more. he is the richest merchant of the city. he is very powerful. you'll see. "They are expecting you at Kamaswami's. "Simple is the life which people lead in this world here. without words he asked for food. he positioned himself by the door. Everything was dif_icult. At the inn. without a word he accepted a piece of rice-‐cake." she said when they parted. he'll accept you into his service. Be smart. or else I won't be satis_ied with you. when I was still a Samana. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become his servant. as soon as yesterday I have kissed Kamala. "Things are working out well." He had already discovered Kamala's house in the city long before. which the likes of you aren't capable of. Perhaps as soon as tomorrow. Suddenly. "But where would you be without me? What would you be. I need clothes and money. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest. to wait. He gave the rice-‐cake to a dog and remained without food. If he'll like you. If he'll like you. But it is useful for many things. brown Samana." she admitted." "Well yes. it was no longer becoming to him to beg. which Kamala is giving me. I told you I knew how to think." Siddhartha thanked her and laughed. nothing else. he'll entrust you with a lot. pride _lared up in him. she sent for bread and fruits and treated him to it. "It presents no dif_iculties. How come? Do you have a spell?" Siddhartha said: "Yesterday. there he turned up the following day. and ultimately hopeless. they won't make a person lose any sleep. Kamala. this a small. I had others tell him about you." thought Siddhartha. if Kamala wasn't helping you?" .
it will speed on the fastest course to the bottom of the water."Dear Kamala." "But what if I hadn't been willing?" "You were willing. This is what fools call magic and of which they think it would be effected by means of the daemons. But perhaps it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man." she said quietly. It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. I did the _irst step. "Perhaps it is so. This is how it is when Siddhartha has a goal. at your _irst glance at the entrance of the grove I already knew it. there are no daemons. Siddhartha bid his farewell. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. he fasts. because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. he lets himself fall. that my glance shall please you. if he is able to fast. that always good fortune shall come to me out of your direction!" . that his glance pleases the women. Kamala: When you throw a rock into the water. if he is able to wait. "I wish that it should be this way. From that moment on when I had made this resolution." said Siddhartha and straightened up to his full height. without doing anything. but he passes through the things of the world like a rock through water. he waits. without stirring. Nothing is effected by daemons. His goal attracts him." With one kiss. that therefore good fortune is coming towards him. "as you say. my teacher. a resolution. I also knew that I would carry it out. She loved his voice. Siddhartha does nothing. he is drawn. I knew that you would help me. she loved the look from his eyes. everyone can reach his goals. Everyone can perform magic. he thinks. friend. if he is able to think. Look." Kamala listened to him. "when I came to you into your grove.
I have been without possessions. a swiftly." said Siddhartha. But I am so voluntarily. and have never thought about of what I should live. Might you have become destitute. the host and the guest greeted one another." "Presumable this is how it is. You should know that I'm coming from the Samanas. a learned man. with a greedy mouth. with very intelligent. so that you seek to serve?" "No." "But if you don't mind me asking: being without possessions. how could you be anything but destitute? Aren't the Samanas entirely without possessions?" "I am without possessions." "So you've lived of the possessions of others. Politely. everyone gives. being without possessions?" "I haven't thought of this yet. For more than three years." "So it seems to be indeed.WITH THE CHILDLIKE PEOPLE Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant. After all. Surely. "that you were a Brahman. smoothly moving man with very gray hair. what would you like to give?" . Kamaswami entered. a merchant also lives of what other people own. Brahman. and therefore I am not destitute. Everyone takes." "But what are you planning to live of. he was directed into a rich house. sir. cautious eyes." said Siddhartha." "If you're coming from the Samanas. But he wouldn't take anything from another person for nothing. "I have not become destitute and have never been destitute. such is life." "Well said. but that you seek to be in the service of a merchant. "if this is what you mean." the merchant began. he would give his merchandise in return. "I have been told. I am without possessions. with whom I have lived for a long time. servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber. where he awaited the master of the house.
being patient is better. Siddhartha can wait calmly. he knows no impatience. I'm asking you to be my guest and to live in this house." said Kamaswami. Clothes were brought to him. and shoes. and began to read out its contents. But like this. fasting is the smartest thing he could do. Siddhartha hadn't learned to fast. and lived in the dealers house from now on." "That's everything?" "I believe. the fasting—what is it good for?" "It is very good." "It is excellent how you're able to write. that's everything!" "And what's the use of that? For example."Everyone gives what he has. what you're able to do?" "I can think. he would have to accept any kind of service before this day is up. "Excellent. I can wait. When. for a long time he can allow hunger to besiege him and can laugh about it." the merchant praised him. the teacher teachings. whether it may be with you or wherever. the _isher _ish. Twice a day. thinking is better. When a person has nothing to eat. the farmer rice. Samana." "Yes indeed. Being smart is good. on which a sales-‐contract had been written down." "You're right. Wait for a moment." Kamaswami left the room and returned with a scroll. and every day. is what fasting is good for. The warrior gives strength. which he handed to his guest while asking: "Can you read this?" Siddhartha looked at the scroll. he knows no emergency. sir. "Many a thing we will still have to discuss with one another. because hunger would force him to do so. sir. and Siddhartha wrote and returned the paper." Siddhartha thanked and accepted. the merchant gives merchandise. This. Kamaswami read: "Writing is good. "And would you write something for me on this piece of paper?" He handed him a piece of paper and a pen. a servant prepared a bath for him. And what is it now what you've got to give? What is it that you've learned. a plentiful meal was . I can fast. For today. for example.
that lovers must not part from one another after celebrating love. or something he has learned among Samanas. regarding love. Wonderful hours he spent with the beautiful and smart artist. "This Brahman. and that Siddhartha surpassed him. however small it was. every caress. But he has that mysterious quality of those people to whom success comes all by itself. forced him to treat him as an equal. the rules of which he tried hard to learn precisely. 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. Kamaswami told him about his trade. wearing pretty clothes. yes even more than an equal. every spot of the body. He always seems to be merely playing with out business-‐affairs.served. in calmness and equanimity. thoroughly starting with the basics. but Siddhartha only ate once a day. "is no proper merchant and will never be one. supple hand. at the hour appointed by her. when he already took part in his landlords business. and ate neither meat nor did he drink wine. _ine shoes." he said to a friend. he was never subservient to the merchant. Much he learned from her tender. but Siddhartha looked upon all of this as if it was a game. Kamaswami conducted his business with care and often with passion. 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. the merchant. every look. who was. every touch. whether this may be a good star of his birth. there is never any passion in his soul when he conducts our business. which would bring happiness to those who know about it and unleash it. her friend. showed him the merchandise and storage-‐rooms. had its secret. still a boy and had a tendency to plunge blindly and insatiably into lust like into a bottomless pit. smart mouth. but the contents of which did not touch his heart. shipping and trade. Him. he heard a lot and spoke little. Here with Kamala was the worth and purpose of his present life. Siddhartha got to know many new things. showed him calculations. And thinking of Kamala's words. But daily. him she taught. without one admiring the other. about that school of thought which teaches that pleasure cannot be be taken without giving pleasure. but that he acted in a fortunate manner. nit with the business of Kamaswami. Much he learned from her red. he visited beautiful Kamala. her lover. they never fully become a . became her student. and soon he brought her gifts as well. without being just as defeated as they have been victorious. He soon saw that Siddhartha knew little about rice and wool. He was not in Kamaswami's house for long. She taught him. magic. and in the art of listening and deeply understanding previously unknown people. and that every gesture.
and returned extremely satis_ied from his trip. he'll become more zealous." "That's all very nice. But like this. let me bear that loss. I would have travelled back. when he made losses." Kamaswami followed the advice. And if I'll ever return there again. If a loss has occurred. I have found friendship. Nevertheless. and don't harm yourself by scolding! If the day will come. my dear. then speak . perhaps to buy an upcoming harvest. "surely I have travelled for my amusement. nobody knew that I was a merchant. I've learned. he travelled to a village to buy a large harvest of rice there. and time and money would indeed have been lost. Siddhartha stayed for several days in that village. when there is a loss. he accepted it with equanimity. Siddhartha answered: "Stop scolding. joined in the celebration of a wedding. but let him also be liable for the same amount of the losses. they never rule over him." Siddhartha laughed. friendly people will receive me in a friendly and happy manner. I am very satis_ied with this trip. one ought to think! Or might you have only travelled for your amusement?" "Surely." The friend advised the merchant: "Give him from the business he conducts for you a third of the pro_its. Kamaswami held against him that he had not turned back right away. a Brahman has become my friend. "but in fact.part of him. farmers have shown me their _ields. being annoyed and in a hurry. So. I've had a few good days. or for whatever purpose it might be. as soon as I had seen that my purchase had been rendered impossible. But when he got there. when you will see: this Siddhartha is harming me. and I will praise myself for not showing any hurry and displeasure at that time. I have received kindness and trust. Then. had joy. as if he did not care about the business. look at this. my friend. Look." exclaimed Kamaswami indignantly. if I had been Kamaswami. leave it as it is. he is never upset by a loss. At one time. When he made a pro_it. I've neither harmed myself nor others by annoyance and hastiness. gave copper-‐coins to their children. he laughed and said: "Well. so this one turned out badly!" It seemed indeed. For what else? I have gotten to know people and places. But Siddhartha cared little about this. that he had wasted time and money. children have sat on my knees. dear friend! Nothing was ever achieved by scolding. I have gotten to know many kinds of people. you are a merchant after all. treated the farmers for a drink. the rice had already been sold to another merchant. he is never afraid of failure.
" Indeed his soul was not with the trade. all people's bread. However easily he succeeded in talking to all of them. and becoming gray for the sake of things which seemed to him to entirely unworthy of this price. to convince Siddhartha that he should eat his bread. whose businesses. But until then. When. to have wrinkles on the forehead. he saw them scolding and insulting each other. for being slightly honoured. Welcome was the merchant who offered him linen for sale. Siddhartha ate his own bread. for money. crafts. or a debtor seemed to be unable to pay. and suffering because of deprivations which a Samana would not feel. one day. he saw them complaining about pain at which a Samana would only smile. or whether a shipment of merchandise seemed to have been lost. He saw mankind going trough life in a childlike or animallike manner. 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. Siddhartha's interest and curiosity was only concerned with the people. saw them suffering. and it earned him much more than he needed. for little pleasures. The business was good enough to provide him with the money for Kamala. he replied: "Would you please not kid me with such jokes! What I've learned from you is how much a basket of _ish costs and how much interests may be charged on loaned money. which he loved and also despised at the same time. these people brought his way. and acts of foolishness used to be as alien and distant to him as the moon. welcome was the debtor who sought another loan. my dear Kamaswami. you ought to be the one seeking to learn from me. He was open to everything. Siddhartha never listened to Kamaswami's worries and Kamaswami had many worries. pleasures. let's be satis_ied with one another. he was still aware that there was something which separated him from them and this separating factor was him being a Samana. These are your areas of expertise. He saw them toiling. Kamaswami held against him that he had learned everything he knew from him. I haven't learned to think from you. to sleep badly." Futile were also the merchant's attempts. in learning from all of them. He did not treat the rich foreign merchant any different than the servant who shaved him and the street-‐vendor whom he let cheat him out of some small change when buying bananas. or rather they both ate other people's bread. Besides from this. Kamaswami could never convince his partner that it would be useful to utter a few words of worry or anger. to complain about his . When Kamaswami came to him. Whether there was a business-‐deal going on which was in danger of failing. in living with all of them. worries.a word and Siddhartha will go on his own path.
nothing else. only as much as he considered indispensable. "No. And there were many who came to him." "Not all people are smart. learned from her. But again and again. to which you can go at every hour of the day and be at home at yourself. are like a falling leaf. ran and ran invisibly. she was more similar to him. really to live. She understood him better than Govinda used to understand him. learned the art of love. he said to her: "You are like me. Kamala. he hardly perceived it. many to do business with him. many to draw some secret out of him. He gave advice. with the people around him. of him doing lots of things which were only a game. chatted with her. really to act. practised the cult of lust. Once. he was not with them. and inside of you. tried to understand him. many to appeal to his sympathy. many to get his advice. really to enjoy and to live instead of just standing by as a spectator.worries or to reproach him concerning his business. he let them cheat him a bit. 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. for an hour. he became aware of the strange life he was leading. As a ball-‐player plays with his balls. found amusement in them. and yet all could have it. which is blown and is turning around through . a dying. real life still passing him by and not touching him. Kamaswami is just as smart as I. quiet voice. lamented quietly. of. he came back to beautiful Kamala. with the source of his being." said Siddhartha. as I can also do. you are different from most people. 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. many to cheat him. which admonished him quietly. with his heart. "that's not the reason why. watched them. who are small children with respect to their mind. The source ran somewhere. there is a peace and refuge. was puzzled by him. consented that he was a little bit right. Others have it. And then. deep in his chest. he listened curiously and happily. Most people. he made gifts. in which more than in anything else giving and taking becomes one. had nothing to do with his life any more. received advice." said Kamala. towards the next person who would ask for him. far away from him. he played with his business-‐deals. though being happy and feeling joy at times. You are Kamala. Few people have this. gave her advice. and turned away from him. he pitied. At times he felt. and still has no refuge in himself.
follow his instructions every hour. For a long time. people of our kind can't love. It is that Gotama. And yet. embraced him: enjoyed his masterful skills. are like stars. she played with Siddhartha." Kamala looked at him with a smile. "I am like you. Thousands of followers are listening to his teachings every day. you love nobody. and tumbles to the ground. they go on a _ixed course. until he was defeated and rested exhausted by her side. my dear. rejected him. and they played the game of love. took a long look at his face." Siddhartha said tiredly. At some time. Siddhartha." she said. the exalted one. The courtesan bent over him. was knowledgeable of many forms of lust. there was one of this kind. in themselves they have their law and their course." . Her body was _lexible like that of a jaguar and like the bow of a hunter. forced him. The childlike people can. that's their secret. and yet you do not love me. who is spreading that teachings. you've remained a Samana. he who had learned from her how to make love. of which I knew many. more willing. "I ever saw. more supple. "You are the best lover. Among all the learned men and Samanas. a few. not in themselves they have teachings and a law. at his eyes. I'd want to bear your child. when I'll be older. I'll never be able to forget him. Isn't it so?" "It might very well be so. which had grown tired. But others. one of the thirty or forty different games Kamala knew. no wind reaches them. You also do not love—how else could you practise love as a craft? Perhaps. you're talking about him. enticed him." she said thoughtfully. You're stronger than others. many secrets. but they are all falling leaves.the air. You've learned my art well. "Again." Siddhartha said nothing. "again. and wavers. you're having a Samana's thoughts. a perfected one.
_illing it slowly and making it rot. of waiting. . had slowly become a memory. bright state of being awake. which used to be near. which used to murmur within himself. which guided his life. will keep on turning for a long time and only slowly lose its vigour and come to a stop. The people liked him. after the separation from Govinda. slowly it _illed his soul. had been _leeting. had tasted power. Many a part of this he still had. the world and sloth had entered Siddhartha's soul. had tasted lust. of his eternal entity. Siddhartha hardly felt them fading away. joy of thinking. whenever they needed money or advice. had awoken again. many things he had learned from the Samanas. Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust. That high. he had tasted riches. being smart. his senses had become alive. though without being a part of it. surrounded by the good life. the holy source murmured. had remained alien to him as he was alien to them. except Kamala. had realized this quite right. the childlike people. His senses. put it to sleep. that tense expectation. he had learned from Gotama. Slowly. He had become rich.SANSARA For a long time. On the other hand. the wheel of differentiation for a long time. Just as a potter's wheel. hours of meditation. that supple willingness to listen to the divine voice in his own heart. there was much they had learned. like humidity entering the dying stem of a tree. which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana. It was still the art of thinking. the wheel of thinking. they came to him. Years passed by. thus Siddhartha's soul had kept on turning the wheel of asceticism. and a garden before the city by the river. secret knowledge of the self. made it heavy. in those days after Gotama's sermon. but it turned slowly and hesitantly and was close to coming to a standstill. once it has been set in motion. still turning. of fasting. which he had experienced that one time at the height of his youth. that proud state of standing alone without teachings and without teachers. had remained within him for a long time afterwards: moderate living. distant and quiet. much they had experienced. but one part after another had been submerged and had gathered dust. Kamala. made it tired. nevertheless he had still remained in his heart for a long time a Samana. for quite a while he possessed a house of his own and his own servants. Nevertheless. but there was nobody close to him. he had learned from his father the Brahman. which is neither body nor consciousness. still the people of the world.
Siddhartha had assumed something of the childlike people's ways for himself. of sickliness. to enjoy himself with a woman. to bathe in perfumed waters. always he had watched them with some mockery. something of their childlikeness and of their fearfulness. this joy of a child and this foolishness of a child. when Kamaswami bored him with his worries. his mockery had become more tired. one after another. which causes sloth and forgetfulness. he had learned to wear beautiful clothes. It happened that he became angry and impatient. with honours or money. to use his power over people. some mocking disdain. Like a veil. of sloth. gets stains. a bit heavier every year. to have himself carried about in a sedan-‐chair. with their children. When Kamaswami was ailing. as the harvest seasons and rainy seasons passed by. to watch dancing girls. with women. the importance they were able to attach to their lives. He had learned to eat tenderly and carefully prepared food. of ill-‐humour. when he lost a game of dice. Just slowly and imperceptibly. he learned from them out of all things the unpleasant ones. loses its beautiful colour in time. of a lack of love. his superiority had become more quiet. felt unable to think and tired. even _ish. He had learned to play with dice and on a chess-‐board.Siddhartha had learned to trade. spices and sweets. And yet. he stayed in bed for a long time. and assumed. slowly. envied them just the more. As a new dress becomes old in time. like a thin mist. It happened that he laughed just too loud. but it rarely laughed. those features of discontent. and to drink wine. His face was still smarter and more spiritual than others. among his growing riches. even meat and poultry. which he himself despised. those features which are so often found in the faces of rich people. It happened more and more often that. thus . grabbed hold of him. gets worn off at the seams. the amount of passion in their joys and fears. gets wrinkles. getting a bit denser every day. the more similar he became to them. to give orders to servants. These people were all of the time in love with themselves. Siddhartha had always watched it with mockery. with the same disdain which a Samana constantly feels for the people of the world. the fearful but sweet happiness of being constantly in love. this out of all things. he envied them. to sleep on a soft bed. when he was vexed by his worries as a merchant. But still he had felt different from and superior to the others. Just slowly. when he was annoyed. Slowly the disease of the soul. and starts to show threadbare spots here and there. in the morning after having had company the night before. But he did not learn this from them. with plans or hopes. when he felt insulted. He envied them for the one thing that was missing from him and that they had. a bit murkier every month. tiredness came over Siddhartha. which rich people have.
in no other way he could demonstrate his disdain for wealth. more clearly and more mockingly. had grown old. something like an intoxication. On a strange and devious way. pursued the trade more zealously. he wanted to continue squandering. lost his patience when he was not payed on time. who gambled away tens of thousands at one roll of the dice and laughed at it. forced his debtors more strictly to pay. lost colour and splendour as the years passed by. He. the merchants' false god.Siddhartha's new life. lost again. because he wanted to continue gambling. few dared to take him on. won again. lost his kindness towards beggars. disappointment and disgust were waiting. which he had started after his separation from Govinda. already showing its ugliness here and there. losing and wasting his wretched money in the game brought him an angry joy. mocking himself. that Siddhartha began to play the game for money and precious things. continue demonstrating his disdain of wealth. sloth. lukewarm. that terrible and petrifying fear. always increase it. It was since that time. always get it to a slightly higher level. won thousands. He was a feared gambler. had become a shackle and a burden. lost a house in the country. lost money. That fear. and _inally also by that vice which he had used to despise and mock the most as the most foolish one of all vices: greed. lost jewelry. which he at other times only joined with a smile and casually as a custom of the childlike people. Siddhartha had gotten into this _inal and most base of all dependencies. Thus he gambled with high stakes and mercilessly. with an increasing rage and passion. which had awoken in him at that time and had ever guided him in his best times. Siddhartha did not notice it. while he was worried about losing high stakes. they were no longer a game and tri_les to him. He had been captured by the world. by means of the game of dice. became more strict and more petty in his business. And after each big loss. possessions. dull life. Property. so high and audacious were his stakes. for in this feeling alone he still felt something like happiness. threw away thousands. Siddhartha lost his calmness when losses occurred. He only noticed that this bright and reliable voice inside of him. lost his disposition for giving away and loaning money to those who petitioned him. something like an elevated form of life in the midst of his saturated. He played the game due to a pain of his heart. which he felt while he was rolling the dice. and hidden at bottom. by lust. hating himself. occasionally dreaming at night about money! And whenever he woke . when he had stopped being a Samana in his heart. covetousness. and riches also had _inally captured him. was gathering wrinkles and stains. had become silent. his mind was set on new riches. that fear he loved and sought to always renew it.
Tiredness was written on Kamala's beautiful face." But after this. perhaps not even conscious anxiety: fear of old age. as if. how closely lust was akin to death. repulsive taste of the wine. fear of the autumn. read a fearful inscription. perhaps soon. how kind his smile. of slight grooves. and Kamala had sighed and had said: "One day. Then he had lain by her side. the soul full of reluctance. With a sigh. he continued _leeing. he had to tell her about the exalted Buddha. here and there. biting and in tears. and had tied him to her in the act of making love with painful fervour. still unsaid. how still and beautiful his mouth. Siddhartha had spent the night in his house with dancing girls and wine. and full of concealed anxiety. as clearly as never before. I'll give him my pleasure-‐garden for a gift and take my refuge in his teachings. had drunk much wine and gone to bed a long time after midnight. in her beautiful pleasure-‐garden. an inscription reminiscent of autumn and old age. Then the time came when a dream warned him. though this was no longer true. had already noticed.up from this ugly spell. his heart full of misery which he thought he could not bear any longer. talking. whenever he found his face in the mirror at the bedroom's wall to have aged and become more ugly. he had bid his farewell to her. the just too soft smile of the dancing girls. Then. They had been sitting under the trees. _leeing into a numbing of his mind brought on by sex. and Kamala's face had been close to him. _leeting pleasure. He had spend the hours of the evening with Kamala. fear of having to die. full of a disgust which he felt penetrating his entire body like the lukewarm. which has no happy destination. how peaceful his walk had been. growing ill. had acted as if he was superior to them towards the fellow-‐members of his caste. Never before. _leeing into a new game. and under her eyes and next to the corners of her mouth he had. gray hairs among his black ones. the just too sweet. tiredness and the beginning of withering. words behind which a sadness and tiredness lay hidden. whenever embarrassment and disgust came over him. how clear his eyes. and Kamala had said thoughtful words. an inscription of small lines. who was only in his forties. by wine. it had become so strangely clear to Siddhartha. For a long time. I'll also follow that Buddha. once more. growing old. she had aroused him. close to weeping and despair. growing tired. and had for a long time sought to sleep in vain. In this pointless cycle he ran. and from there he _led back into the urge to pile up and obtain possessions. and concealed. the just too sweet scent of their hair and breasts. dull music. being tired and yet excited. But . tiredness from walking a long path. She had asked him to tell her about Gotama. she wanted to squeeze the last sweet drop out of this vain. and could not hear enough of him. just as Siddhartha himself.
he stepped in front of the cage and looked inside. in the dispute with the learned ones. He dreamt: this bird had become mute. goal of all thinking had ripped him out of and up from the multitude of those seeking the same goal. he had a dream: Kamala owned a small. and his heart hurt. by the _labby tiredness and listlessness of his skin. he had felt it in his heart: "There is a path in front of you. when the ever rising. nothing which was in some way delicious or worth keeping he had left in his hands. he had slightly fallen asleep. who has eaten and drunk far too much. there the small bird was dead and lay stiff on the ground. felt a true bliss? Oh yes. as if he had thrown away from himself all value and everything good by throwing out this dead bird. withered in him. With a gloomy mind. in an immense burst of disgust. 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. felt death in his heart and horror in his chest. sat and sensed how everything died in him. he once again went the entire path of his life." And again. the gods are awaiting you. by the smell of wine from his mouth. so it seemed to him. When was there ever a time when he had experienced happiness. Worthless. sat down under a mango-‐tree. who at other times always used to sing in the morning. and then threw it away. by his perfumed hair. he felt encompassed by a deep sadness. Alone he stood there and empty like a castaway on the shore. By and by. In his years as a boy. Siddhartha went to the pleasure-‐garden he owned. came to an end in him. worthless and pointless was the way he had been going through life. Not until the light of the morning and the beginning of the _irst activities in the street before his city-‐house. he gathered his thoughts. several times he had experienced such a thing. when he had obtained praise from the Brahmans. starting with the _irst days he could remember. In those moments. as an assistant in the offerings. he felt terribly shocked. vomits it back up again with agonising pain and is nevertheless glad about the relief. and in the same moment. he has had a taste of it. when every obtained knowledge only kindled new thirst . Of this bird. thus this sleepless man wished to free himself of these pleasures.more than by anything else. these habits and all of this pointless life and himself. upward _leeing. nothing which was alive. out in the street. He took it out. and in his mind. locked the gate. he dreamt. as a young man." Then. you are destined for. he was disgusted by himself. a hint of sleep. had found for a few moments a half unconsciousness. rare singing bird in a golden cage. Like when someone. when he wrestled in pain for the purpose of Brahman. weighed it for a moment in his hand. and since this arose his attention. Starting up from this dream.
and also when he had gone away from him to the uncertain. nor their worries. shook himself. When. for how long had he reached no height any more. that he owned a mango-‐tree. bid his farewell to the mango-‐tree. That entire day. inside of him. he thought: "Here I'm sitting under my mango-‐tree. Did he have to leave them to become a Kamaswami? He still sat there. Shivers ran over his body. Since he had been without food this day. and thought of his house in the city. then again he had. that he owned a garden? He also put an end to this. For how long had he not heard this voice any more. In the same hour of the night. he sat under the mango-‐tree. and their goals were not his. Kamala had no one look for him. He smiled tiredly. 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. Siddhartha left his garden. in the midst of the thirst. a game which was perhaps enjoyable to play once. without thirst. and never came back. of the table with the meals on it. for many long years. without elevation. twice. looking up. so he felt. something had died. a dance he would watch. without knowing it himself. and again when he had gone away from the Samanas to that perfected one. and bid his farewell to these things. had been valuable to him—but was she still thus? Did he still need her. he felt strong hunger. ten times— but for ever and ever over again? Then." He smiled a little —was it really necessary. his life had been much more miserable and poorer than theirs. that entire world of the Kamaswami-‐people had only been a game to him. When she was told that Siddhartha had . was it right. in my pleasure-‐garden. He rose. after all. his farewell to the pleasure-‐garden. thinking of his father. like those children. was it not as foolish game. how even and dull was the manner in which his path had passed through life. a game for children. without a high goal. of his chamber and bed. or she him? Did they not play a game without an ending? Was it necessary to live for this? No. Siddhartha knew that the game was over. this also died in him. Only Kamala had been dear. content with small lustful pleasures and yet never satis_ied! For all of these many years. thinking that he had fallen into the hands of robbers. it was not necessary! The name of this game was Sansara. a comedy. left the city. and in all this. thinking of Govinda. For a long time. that he could not play it any more. he had tried hard and longed to become a man like those many. Kamaswami had people look for him. when the night had fallen. thinking of Gotama.in him. he caught sight of the stars.
she was not astonished. she went to the window. in spite of all the pain of the loss. the _lying bird. For a long time. she had felt this the last time they had been together. a man who was at home nowhere.disappeared. . she became aware that she was pregnant from the last time she was together with Siddhartha. From this day on. that she had felt one more time to be so completely possessed and penetrated by him. a pilgrim? And most of all. and she was happy. But after some time. When she received the _irst news of Siddhartha's disappearance. Did she not always expect it? Was he not a Samana. took the bird out and let it _ly. where she held a rare singing bird captive in a golden cage. She opened the door of the cage. she gazed after it. that she had pulled him so affectionately to her heart for this last time. she received no more visitors and kept her house locked.
to breathe in again and again. like a sponge sucks up water until it is full. And full he was. and looked down into the green water. given him joy. There was nothing left for him. given him comfort. as he had lived it for many years until now. full of misery. a coconut-‐tree. 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. there was nothing left but the deep. Yes. hesitantly he stood at the bank. and knew nothing but that one thing. a ferryman had conducted him. full of the feeling of been sick of it. A hang bent over the bank of the river. full of death. Siddhartha leaned against its trunk with his shoulder. and no awakening from that! Was there still any kind of _ilth. a dreariness of the soul he had not brought upon himself? Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was it possible. Dead was the singing bird. a poison which would numb his senses. he had not soiled himself with. By this river he stopped. except to smash the failure into which he had shaped his life. sucked everything out of it until he was disgusted with it. embraced the trunk with one arm. Deeply. bring him forgetfulness and sleep. was already far from the city. wherever to. and whatever for should he walk on. to have rest. to breathe out. A frightening emptiness was re_lected back at him by the water. except to annihilate himself. which ran and ran under him. he had reached the end. to which goal? No. was over and done away with. Passionately he wished to know nothing about himself anymore. the same river over which a long time ago. to throw it away. he had been entangled in Sansara. to put an end to this miserable and shameful life. . there was nothing left in this world which could have attracted him. painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream. when he had still been a young man and came from the town of Gotama. there were no more goals. looked down and found himself to be entirely _illed with the wish to let go and to drown in these waters. to be dead. answering to the terrible emptiness in his soul. Dead was the bird in his heart. a sin or foolish act he had not committed.BY THE RIVER Siddhartha walked through the forest. to feel hunger. to sleep again. he had dreamt of. to eat again. that this life. that there was no going back for him. and that he had tasted all of it. Tiredness and hunger had weakened him. to spit out this stale wine. 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. he had sucked up disgust and death from all sides into his body.
he took his arm away from the trunk of the tree and turned a bit. out of remote areas of his soul. he felt as if ten years had passed. a sound stirred up. had been able to grow in him: to _ind rest by annihilating his body! What all agony of these recent times. and he remembered where he was and how he got here. _lash. In deep tiredness. By the foot of the coconut-‐tree. So this was how things were with him. placed his head on the root of the tree and fell into a deep sleep. which roughly means "that what is perfect" or "the completion". in order to let himself fall straight down. But it took him a long while for this. the holy "Om". It was a word. without thinking. so much he had lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge. all desperation had not brought about. he slipped towards death. and the past seemed to him as if . this depraved and rotten body. let him be chopped to bits by the daemons! With a distorted face. knew about all that is divine. a syllable. Deep was his sleep and without dreams. Siddhartha collapsed. that this wish. When he woke up after many hours. But this was only a moment. With his eyes closed. Siddhartha was deeply shocked. so doomed was he. this dog Siddhartha. knew about the indestructibility of life. spoke to himself. Om! he spoke to himself: Om! and again he knew about Brahman. And in the moment when the sound of "Om" touched Siddhartha's ear. this weakened and abused soul! Let him be food for _ishes and crocodiles. the old word which is the beginning and the end of all prayers of the Brahmans. this wish of a child. the smashing to bits of the form he hated! Let him be food for _ishes. mumbling Om. out of past times of his now weary life. which he.before the feet of mockingly laughing gods. This was the great vomiting he had longed for: death. struck down by tiredness. he heard the water quietly _lowing. opened his eyes. which he had forgotten. saw the re_lection of his face and spit at it. his dormant spirit suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions. in order to _inally drown. this was brought on by this moment. when the Om entered his consciousness: he became aware of himself in his misery and in his error. this lunatic. did not know where he was and who had brought him here. for a long time he had not known such a sleep any more. saw with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him. he stared into the water. Then. with a slurred voice. that he had been able to seek death. all sobering realizations.
he too. opened his eyes and looked at him. and he had not observed him for long when he recognised this monk as Govinda. expressed zeal. but that by a river. I. "However did you get here?" "You have been sleeping. had drowned and was reborn in a new body? But no. like an early pre-‐birth of his present self)—that his previous life had been abandoned by him. an unknown man. under a coconut-‐tree. am a follower of the exalted Gotama. Govinda had aged. Siddhartha saw that Govinda did not recognise him. and have been on a pilgrimage together with several of us on this path. Quietly. Govinda who had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. joyful and curious. he knew his hand and his feet. a submergence and complete entering into Om. he had been sitting here for a long time and been waiting for him to wake up. He observed the man. but this Siddhartha was nevertheless transformed. full of disgust and wretchedness. he has come to his senses." answered Govinda. when I saw you lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous to sleep. into the nameless. sensing his gaze. the weird one. was strangely well rested. who had neither hair on his head nor a beard. the Buddha. What a wonderful sleep had this been! Never before by sleep. the eccentric. faithfulness. the Sakyamuni. searching. he knew himself. a thinking of Om. He only knew that his previous life (in the _irst moment when he thought about it. that then he had fallen asleep and had now woken up and was looking at the world as a new man. oh sir. but still his face bore the same features.it had been covered by a veil. he spoke the word Om to himself. then he saw a person sitting opposite to him. the perfected. knew the place where he lay. But when Govinda now. Govinda was happy to _ind him awake. . in_initely far away. thus rejuvenated! Perhaps. though he did not know him. that. previous incarnation. Therefore. this past life seemed to him like a very old. in_initely meaningless. the holy word Om on his lips. I sought to wake you up. he had been thus refreshed. he had really died." said Siddhartha. "I have been sleeping. speaking which he had fallen asleep. the friend of his youth. "It is not good to be sleeping in such places. oh sir. thus renewed. a monk in a yellow robe with a shaven head. knew this self in his chest. and it seemed to him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing but a long meditative recitation of Om. he had even intended to throw his life away. sitting in the position of pondering. and since I saw that your sleep was very deep. Siddhartha straightened up. this Siddhartha. timidness. apparently. in_initely distant. where snakes often are and the animals of the forest have their paths. was renewed. strangely awake.
Be welcome. and from our walk to the Samanas. sir." "I'm going. for watching out over my sleep. You've been the guard of my sleep. whenever it is not the rainy season. "You're friendly. accept alms. But now that you're awake.I stayed behind from my group and sat with you. forgive me. and from that hour when you took your refuge with the exalted one in the grove Jetavana. It is always like this. friend." said Siddhartha. I'm on a pilgrimage. oh friend?" "I'm going nowhere. you followers of the exalted one. Samana. to see you again. We monks are always travelling. Siddhartha. and I believe in you. "Now. Siddhartha." "You're Siddhartha. move on. "Permit me to ask. Badly. tiredness has overwhelmed me." Govinda exclaimed loudly. I'm going nowhere. Where are you going to. where are you going to?" Quoth Siddhartha: "With me too. it is as it is with you. I'm just travelling." "I thank you. May you. Samana. we always move from one place to another. sir. my joy is great. But. And then. you do not look like a pilgrim. always be in good health. sir. let me go to catch up with my brothers. Siddhartha smiled. Govinda. though I wouldn't have required any guard. so it seems. But you. and from the offerings. from your father's hut." Govinda made the gesture of a salutation and said: "Farewell." "I thank you. and from the school of the Brahmans. again I thank you for this. and don't comprehend any more how I couldn't recognise you right away. from where do you know my name?" Now. to see you again. I'm recognising you. Now you may go then. I have fallen asleep myself. You're wearing a rich man's garments. I who wanted to guard your sleep. oh Govinda. I have served you. oh Siddhartha. live according to the rules if the teachings passed on to us." spoke Siddhartha." Govinda spoke: "You're saying: you're on a pilgrimage. you're wearing the shoes of a ." "Farewell. "I know you. The monk stopped." "It also gives me joy.
not the hair of a Samana. was this very thing that he loved everything. I'm travelling." Govinda looked at the friend of his youth for a long time. Siddhartha. my dear. Remember. you've seen this quite right. because I have been a rich man. few in such shoes." "You've lost your riches?" "I've lost them or they me. I'm wearing a rich man's clothes. _illed with Om! The enchantment. Siddhartha watched him leave. They somehow happened to slip away from me." "I believe you. he loved him still. with doubt in his eyes. and I'm wearing my hair like the worldly and lustful people." "Right so. not eternal. my dear Govinda." "You're on a pilgrimage. I'm wearing them. Govinda. that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw.distinguished gentleman. your keen eyes see everything. And it was this very thing. few with such hair. what are you now?" "I don't know it. With a smiling face. this faithful man. you've met a pilgrim just like this. I was a rich man and am no rich man any more." "And now. wearing such shoes. and our hair and bodies themselves. I don't know it just like you. this fearful man. Never I have met such a pilgrim. Where is Siddhartha the Brahman? Where is Siddhartha the Samana? Where is Siddhartha the rich man? Non-‐eternal things change quickly. And how could he not have loved everybody and everything in this moment. I don't know. my dear: Not eternal is the world of appearances." said Govinda. such a garment. in the glorious hour after his wonderful sleep. which had happened inside of him in his sleep and by means of the Om. And so it is: I'm on a pilgrimage. you have observed well. and what I'll be tomorrow. for I have been one of them. today. Govinda. you know it. being a pilgrim myself for many years. But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana. But now. "But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes. he gave him the salutation which one would use on a gentleman and went on his way. with the fragrance of perfume. and your hair. so it seemed to him . The wheel of physical manifestations is turning quickly. I said: I'm on a pilgrimage. After that. is not a pilgrim's hair. anything but eternal are our garments and the style of our hair.
and yet also with a smile. or had he dreamed this? Wondrous indeed was my life. I have no abilities. wondrous detours it has taken. but he forced himself. he had to smile.now. in past times. and the times were long past when he had been tough against hunger. but hunger gave him much pain. and singing and being happy through it all. no. since all these most easily perishing things have slipped from me again. Now. Siddhartha thought about his situation. and laughed about it. now I'm standing here under the sun again just as I have been standing here a little child. so it seemed. that I'm no longer young. neither fasting. for riches! His life had indeed been strange. his solid staff. he had learned these three feats. Was this not the river in which he had intended to drown himself. "Things are going downhill with you!" he said to himself. He liked this well. kindly he smiled at the river. in the busy. nor thinking. nothing is mine. he had given them up. now I'm starting again at the beginning and as a child! Again. and now he was again facing the world void and naked and stupid. for by now he had not eaten for two days. And now. I had only to do with gods and offerings. for what fades most quickly. his power and strength. The sleep had strengthened him much. which had been his sickness before. In those days. he happened to glance at the river. that my hair is already half gray. Siddhartha watched the leaving monk. With a smiling face. so he thought. and he also saw the river going downhill. nothing else. foolish world. that he was not able to love anybody or anything. As I boy. to laugh about this strange. for sensual lust. I have learned nothing. Yes. he did not really feel like it. his fate had been strange! Things were going downhill with him. so he remembered. For the most wretched things. there is nothing I could bring about. nor waiting. with thinking and . that my strength is fading. always moving on downhill. he thought of that time. These had been his possession. With sadness. for the good life. he even felt a great urge to laugh. they had abandoned him. a hundred years ago. But he could not feed sad about this. I had only to do with asceticism. he had boasted of three three things to Kamala. he thought. Thinking was hard on him. And now. and as he was saying it. now he had really become a childlike person. How wondrous is this! Now. laborious years of his youth. had been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats: fasting—waiting —thinking. none of them was his any more. to laugh about himself. As a youth.
delude myself into thinking that Siddhartha was wise! But this one thing I have done well. learned to love my stomach. in order to be able to experience divine grace. my eyes smile to it. this path. insight came towards me in the form of the great Buddha's teachings. Wonderfully. I've had to experience despair. and yet. through so many errors. But it was right so. that I am _inally free again and am standing like a child under the sky? Oh how good is it to have _led. through so much vices. my heart says "Yes" to it. soon afterwards. But what a path has this been! I had to pass through so much stupidity. where I ran away from. learned to hunger. of the gamblers! How did I hate myself for staying in this terrible world for so long! How did I hate myself. after so many years of foolishness. But I also had to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. to unlearn thinking again. have deprive. of excess. to be able to live again. there everything smelled of ointments. wasted money. learned trading with Kamaswami. of spices.meditation. which I said? Or from the fact that I have escaped. I followed the penitents. tortured myself. as I used to like doing so much. have made myself old and evil! No. I've had to sink down to the most foolish one of all thoughts. just to become a child again and to be able to start over. I had to spend many years losing my spirit. Let it go as it likes. to forget the oneness. I went and learned the art of love with Kamala. Isn't it just as if I had turned slowly and on a long detour from a man into a child. he asked his heart. never again I will. this I must praise. which has done me so good? Or from the word Om. from a thinker into a childlike person? And yet. that there is now an end to that hatred against myself. the bird in my chest has not died. this I like. where from did you get this happiness? Might it come from that long. to have become free! How clean and beautiful is the air here. of sloth. But as a young man. I want to to take it. lived in the forest. to hear Om again. suffered of heat and frost. how good to breathe! There. I had to sin. was searching for Brahman. you have once again . that I have completely _led. Siddhartha. of wine. he felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. taught my body to become dead. worshipped the eternal in the Atman. Wonderfully. through so much disgust and disappointments and woe. Where else might my path lead me to? It is foolish. perhaps it is going around in a circle. poisoned. learned to please my senses. this path has been very good. it moves in loops. How did I hate this world of the rich. to the thought of suicide. piled up money. of those who revel in _ine food. good sleep. to that foolish and dreary life! I praise you. to be able to sleep properly and awake properly again. I had to become a fool. I felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling in me like my own blood. to _ind Atman in me again. Wherever from.
had he not felt its death? No. frightened. And now I know it. Was it not this what he used to intend to kill in his ardent years as a penitent? Was this not his self. For much longer. listened to the bird. this was why he felt joy. Too much knowledge had held him back. I have already learned as a child. devoured up to the point of desperation and death. his small. here in the forest. this was why his face was smiling brightly under his hair which had turned gray. he pondered his transformation. that most extreme moment. he had wrestled with for so many years. something else from within him had died. he could have stayed with Kamaswami. found joy in himself. which today had _inally come to its death. it was good. Had not this bird died in him. as it sang for joy. his self had retreated. there it sat . listened curiously to his stomach. felt fear? Was it not this. that he was now like a child. as a penitent. have done something. but in my eyes. which one needs to know. which was back again after every killing. in these recent times and days. into this arrogance. a piece of misery.had an idea. prohibited joy. That he had felt this despair. and let his soul die of thirst. wasted money. always the knowing and spiritual one. always one step ahead of all others. so full of joy? Now Siddhartha also got some idea of why he had fought this self in vain as a Brahman. Into being a priest. to much self-‐ castigation." he thought. in my heart. completely tasted and spit out. so much doing and striving for that goal! Full of arrogance. and that he had not succumbed to it. a piece of suffering. so he felt. have heard the bird in your chest singing and have followed it! Thus he praised himself. which was rumbling with hunger. "It is good. and proud self. too many sacri_icial rules. something which already for a long time had yearned to die. but I have experienced only now. when he hang over the rushing waters and was ready to destroy himself. this deep disgust. this was why he laughed. into this spirituality. made money. so full of trust. by this lovely river? Was it not due to this death. well upholstered hell. Like this. "to get a taste of everything for oneself. so without fear. _illed his stomach. always working the most. for much longer he could have lived in this soft. I have known it for a long time. don't just know it in my memory. Good for me. if this had not happened: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair. that the bird. too many holy verses. That lust for the world and riches do not belong to the good things. which had defeated him again and again. to know this!" For a long time. always the smartest. always the priest or wise one. he had been. in my stomach. the joyful source and voice in him was still alive after all. He had now.
to woman and money. he had to go out into the world. something he did not know yet. that no teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation. Siddhartha the greedy could also die. the teachings. until Siddhartha the lustful. lose himself to lust and power. was a child. as if the river had something special to tell him. while he thought he would kill it by fasting and penance. But the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing water. mortal was every physical form. desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. had to become a merchant. the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted life up to the end. Therefore. He had died. It seemed to him. and was full of joy. a new Siddhartha had woken up from the sleep. he had to continue bearing these ugly years. . never before he had like a water so well as this one. not to leave it very soon. a drinker. he would also eventually have to die. and decided for himself. never before he had perceived the voice and the parable of the moving water thus strongly and beautifully. Cheerfully. until the priest and Samana in him was dead. He thought these thoughts. he looked into the rushing river. listened with a smile to his stomach. Now he saw it and saw that the secret voice had been right. Therefore. In this river. the new Siddhartha. which was still awaiting him. He would also grow old. But today he was young. Siddhartha had intended to drown himself. listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. mortal was Siddhartha. bearing the disgust._irmly and grew. and a greedy person. tired. in it the old. a dice-‐gambler. up to bitter despair.
the river looked at him. quiet bubbles of air _loating on the re_lecting surface. The ferryman. stood in the boat. listened to the rumbling hunger in his body. how did it delight him. with white ones. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it. being astonished to see such an elegant man walking along and on foot. "Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked. divine voices. and it told him: Love this water! Stay near it! Learn from it! Oh yes. When he reached the ferry. He who would understand this water and its secrets. a friendly ferryman had guided me then. it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago on my way to the childlike people. many secrets. he wanted to listen to it. How did he love this water. upriver. was always at all times the same and yet new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this. he is the one I want to go to. the boat was just ready. would also understand many other things. shall also take its start there! Tenderly. He saw: this water ran and ran." the passenger spoke." . how grateful was he to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking. listened to the current. the workings of hunger in his body became unbearable. up the path by the bank. But out of all secrets of the river. so it seemed to him. In a daze he walked on. thought Siddhartha. incessantly it ran. with sky-‐blue ones. starting out from his hut. which was newly awaking. the blue of the sky being depicted in it. with green ones. my path had led me at that time into a new life. he looked into the rushing water. and was nevertheless always there. into the crystal lines of its drawing. which had now grown old and is dead—my present path. took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank. only felt some idea of it stirring. all secrets. Siddhartha recognised him. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep. Siddhartha rose. and the same ferryman who had once transported the young Samana across the river. so rich in secrets. he wanted to learn from it. With a thousand eyes. "It's a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself.THE FERRYMAN By this river I want to stay. he had also aged very much. understand this! He understood and grasped it not. with crystal ones. a distant memory. he today only saw one. my present new life. into the transparent green. this one touched his soul.
" the ferryman laughed. "At one time. and we parted like good friends." Siddhartha laughed. sir. ferryman. Haven't you've been a Samana? I can't think of your name any more. with brawny arms. and accept my clothes for it. intent to continue travelling without clothes?" "Ah. . "Once before." "You're joking. or rather as your trainee. Wouldn't you. This is nothing for people wearing _ine clothes. from me? For you must know. "Now I recognise you. I have no money to pay your fare. isn't every work beautiful?" "This may be true. possibly more than twenty years ago. like to accept these clothes. Most of all I would like you. My name is Vasudeva. this was a long time ago. be my guest today as well and sleep in my hut. friend." They had reached the middle of the river. and remembered. most of all I wouldn't want to continue travelling at all." "Ah. the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful. sir. do it today as well." "So be welcome. But I envy you for yours." "My name is Siddhartha. how once before. and you've been ferried across the river by me. and I was a Samana. He worked calmly. his eyes _ixed in on the front of the boat. you would soon stop enjoying it. ferryman. which are a nuisance to me." he _inally said. I have been looked upon with distrust. searching. Thus." "And do you. for I'll have to learn _irst how to handle the boat. it is as you say. and Vasudeva pushed the oar with more strength. I have been looked upon today because of my clothes. once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. so I hope. the ferryman looked at the stranger. to give me an old loincloth and kept me with you as your assistant. "I'm not joking. and tell me. where you're coming from and why these beautiful clothes are such a nuisance to you. sir.With a smile. Behold. you've slept in my hut. Siddhartha. when you've last seen me. But isn't every life." For a long time. in order to overcome the current. You will. Siddhartha sat and watched him.
they sat on a log by the bank. there is space and food for both. with his eyes closed. Listening carefully. but she has died a long time ago. as he had seen it before his eyes today. and Siddhartha ate with eager pleasure. And I did not meet a single one who knew it as well as you did. it was almost the time of the sunset. after this. open. my friend. he accepted Vasudeva's invitation. entirely and completely absorbed by it. to bury in his heart his own life. what a happy fortune it is. he let everything enter his mind. Until late at night. he knew how to listen. her bed was next to mine. all that learning. "I thank you and accept. It is your friend as well. that is very good. lasted his tale. did not add his praise or rebuke. you shall live with me. from it you will learn it as well. I used to have a wife. and a long silence had occurred. Vasudeva." spoke Vasudeva. The river has spoken to you. he helped him to tie the boat to the stakes. Gratefully. The river has taught me to listen. for listening to me so well! These people are rare who know how to listen. all that searching. waiting. his own search. Afterwards. That is good. Vasudeva listened with great attention. the ferryman asked him to enter the hut. See. love for this man had stirred in his heart. But in the end of Siddhartha's tale. and Siddhartha told the ferryman about where he originally came from and about his life. then Vasudeva said: "It is as I thought. and of his deep fall. "but not from me. Siddhartha felt. Stay with me. when he spoke of the tree by the river. It knows everything." said Siddhartha." "I thank you. birthplace and childhood. how he did not lose a single one. and also ate with eager pleasure of the mango fruits. And I also thank you for this. was just listening. the river. Now. Without him having spoken a word. quiet. the speaker sensed how Vasudeva let his words enter his mind. and how he had felt such a love for the river after his slumber. awaited not a single one with impatience. offered him bread and water. This was among the ferryman's virtues one of the greatest: like only a few.on that last day of his time as a Samana. it speaks to you as well. everything can be learned from it. of the holy Om. you've . his own suffering. in that hour of despair. I will also learn in this respect from you. But when Siddhartha fell silent. for a long time. to confess to such a listener. all joy. I have lived alone. When they had reached the bank. Siddhartha. all distress. the ferryman listened with twice the attention. Vasudeva offered him." "You will learn it.
he lived side by side with Vasudeva. at the . and to weave baskets. I have transported many. You'll learn that other thing from it as well. I might be a wise man. to seek depth. I have no special skill in speaking. I have learned nothing else. I can't tell you that other thing. You'll learn it. plucked the fruit off the banana-‐trees. as it has become sacred to me. and the days and months passed quickly. "It is this what you mean. "Did you. but like this I am only a ferryman. rarely. they have heard its voice. Most of all. "It is late. He learned to build an oar. Incessantly. and the ferryman's job was to get them quickly across that obstacle." Quoth Siddhartha after a long pause: "What other thing. he learned from it to listen. Siddhartha succeeded in persuading him to speak. If I was able to say and teach it. without judgement. he worked with Vasudeva in the rice-‐_ield. they have listened to it. Siddhartha. They travelled to seek money and business. But more than Vasudeva could teach him. The rich and elegant Siddhartha is becoming an oarsman's servant.already learned this from the water too. to pay close attention with a quiet heart. and to all of them. without an opinion. he learned from it. and was joyful because of everything he learned. I'm no learned man." Siddhartha stayed with the ferryman and learned to operate the boat. "Yes. that it is good to strive downwards. and occasionally they exchanged some words. at the source and at the mouth. and learned to mend the boat. and the river has become sacred to them." so he asked him at one time. without a wish. oh friend. In a friendly manner. and the river was obstructing their path." he spoke. "did you too learn that secret from the river: that there is no time?" Vasudeva's face was _illed with a bright smile. "let's go to sleep. Vasudeva was no friend of words. I also have no special skill in thinking. and for weddings. few and at length thought about words. the learned Brahman Siddhartha becomes a ferryman: this has also been told to you by the river. gathered wood. But for some among thousands. opened soul. Vasudeva?" Vasudeva rose. and on pilgrimages. a few. or perhaps you know it already. and it is my task to ferry people across the river. See. thousands. with a waiting. Siddhartha. to sink. Let's rest now. my river has been nothing but an obstacle on their travels. isn't it: that the river is everywhere at once. the river has stopped being an obstacle. four or _ive. he was taught by the river." he said. and when there was nothing to do at the ferry. without passion. All I'm able to do is to listen and to be godly.
but Vasudeva smiled at him brightly and nodded in con_irmation. almost just as throughly glowing with bliss. of what is eternally taking shape. everywhere at once. he had spoken. Also. just as alike to a child's. not by something real. but the voice of life. was not everything hard. Many travellers. deeply. everything hostile in the world gone and overcome as soon as one had overcome time. and it was also a river. at the ferry.waterfall. And this had been the very thing which Siddhartha had also been hearing. said nothing and both listened to the water. Often. in the sea. turned back to his work. And it . Oh. and of a bird of the night. and of a warrior. everything has existence and is present." said Siddhartha. as soon as time would have been put out of existence by one's thoughts? In ecstatic delight. silently he nodded. they sat in the evening together by the bank on the log. then said Siddhartha: "Isn't it so. just as shining out of thousand small wrinkles. And once again. everything is. seeing the two ferrymen. were not all forms of tormenting oneself and being afraid time. the voice of what exists. Vasudeva's face was smiling. when you succeed in hearing all of its ten thousand voices at once?" Happily. and of a bull. not the shadow of the future?" "This it is. Siddhartha's previous births were no past." Vasudeva nodded. I looked at my life. thought they were brothers. And time after time. when the river had just increased its _low in the rainy season and made a powerful noise. he bent over to Siddhartha and spoke the holy Om into his ear. and that there is only the present time for it. in the mountains. oh friend. became almost just as bright. and the boy Siddhartha was only separated from the man Siddhartha and from the old man Siddhartha by a shadow. brushed his hand over Siddhartha's shoulder. "what word it speaks. which was no water to them. this enlightenment had delighted him. was not all suffering time." Siddhartha continued. Nothing was. "And when I had learned it. the river has many voices. not the shadow of the past. very many voices? Hasn't it the voice of a king. and his death and his return to Brahma was no future. nothing will be." "And do you know." Siddhartha spoke with ecstasy. just as alike to an old man's. his smile became more similar to the ferryman's. at the rapids. and of a sighing man. and of a woman giving birth. "all voices of the creatures are in its voice. and a thousand other voices more?" "So it is.
of a conversation from the day before yesterday. It was not long. when the river had been saying something good to them. whose voice he had also once heard. and remembered . and they found neither sorcerers nor wise men. they only found two friendly little old men. The years passed by.happened from time to time that both. and another one. at one time. until a new _lock of monks came along on their pilgrimage. It happened occasionally that a traveller. and by them the ferrymen were told that they were most hurriedly walking back to their great teacher. saw his path to perfection before his eyes. looked at each other. And as people are _locking from everywhere and from all sides. but they got no answers. Kindly. Often. and nobody counted them. to where the great Buddha was awaiting his death. in order to become one with the salvation. monks came by on a pilgrimage. of their childhood. whose holy face he had also once seen with respect. who had been told that there were two wise men. he thought of him. who seemed to be mute and to have become a bit strange and gaga. the great teacher. thought of the same things. or sorcerers. And the curious people laughed and were discussing how foolishly and gullibly the common people were spreading such empty rumours. after having looked at the face of one of the ferrymen. asked for comfort and advice. of death. Siddhartha thought in those days of the dying wise man. 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. for the news had spread the exalted one was deadly sick and would soon die his last human death. confessed evil things. followers of Gotama. The curious people asked many questions. thus they _locked. and are gathering like ants in droves. It also happened that curious people came. or holy men living by that ferry. Then. both thinking precisely the same thing. where the huge event was to take place and the great perfected one of an era was to become one with the glory. like being drawn on by a magic spell. the face and fate of whom had occupied their thoughts. told about pains. when they are going to war or to the coronation of a king. There was something about this ferry and the two ferrymen which was transmitted to others. of one of their travellers. and that they both in the same moment. which many of the travellers felt. whose voice had admonished nations and had awoken hundreds of thousands. when listening to the river. the Buddha. started to tell the story of his life. who were asking to be ferried across the river. both delighted about the same answer to the same question. It happened occasionally that someone asked for permission to stay for a night with them to listen to the river.
For a long time he knew that there was nothing standing between Gotama and him any more. in order to reach people. They had been. took the woman on his arms. there was no teaching a truly searching person. when so many went on a pilgrimage to the dying Buddha. to a stranger. there Kamala collapsed. who used to be the most beautiful of the courtesans. who was holy and about to die. became disobedient and started whining. when little Siddhartha once again forced his mother to rest. desired to go back home. had to comfort him. Hurriedly. until the sound reached Vasudeva's ears. were Siddhartha stood by the stove and was just . Quickly. and while the boy was chewing a banana. and was not able to go any further. the boy looked at her in fear and saw her face having grown pale from horror. had taken her refuge in the teachings. the exalted one. every path. she had to feed him. on foot. had given her garden to the monks of Gotama as a gift. he was accustomed to having his way against her. desired to eat. But the boy started crying miserably. he could approve of any teachings. a small. she had retired from her previous life. So what if he died. though he was still unable to accept his teachings. A long time ago. could accept. as a young man. and rested. with a smile. but the boy had soon grown tired. who stood at the ferry. she uttered a wailing scream. there was nothing standing between him and all the other thousand any more who lived in that what is eternal. who breathed what is divine. desired to rest. and she also joined his loud screams for help. said to him. she crouched down on the ground. by which Kamala had been bitten. and from under her dress. in simple clothes. only interrupting it to kiss and hug his mother. Kamala also went to him. the boy ran along. He did not comprehend why he had to to go on this exhausting and sad pilgrimage with his mother. proud and precocious words. he remembered them. Kamala herself. and got near to the ferry. and soon they all reached the hut. her son. No. But suddenly. she was travelling by the river. they now both ran along the path. With her little son. he came walking. On one of these days. someone who truly wanted to _ind. was among the friends and benefactors of the pilgrims. Kamala often had to take a rest with him. had to scold him. Together with Siddhartha the boy. carried her into the boat. to an unknown place. She. every goal.with a smile those words which he had once. had also become tired. so it seemed to him. But he who had found. how did this concern the boy? The pilgrims were getting close to Vasudeva's ferry. closed her eyes a bit. black snake _led. she had gone on her way due to the news of the near death of Gotama.
when he had been a little boy himself. just slowly she. over his friendly face ran the light of the stove's _ire. In the eyes." said Siddhartha." Her eyes became confused and fell shut. Slowly. than you were like him at that time when you had left me and Kamaswami.lighting the _ire. whom he instantly recognised. she was made to drink a healing potion. "you've become gray. let him weep." Kamala pointed to her boy and said: "Did you recognise him as well? He is your son. and at the sight of the child's face. Vasudeva nodded. Then he saw Kamala. You are much more like him. I have also grown old. who at one time came without clothes. which he had learned a long time ago. from his past and childhood." Siddhartha said quietly. He looked up and _irst saw the boy's face. "She'll die. Kamala's wound was washed. the boy became calm. paralysed by the poison. Kamala. I recognised you. with dusty feet. whose face had been such a warning reminder to him. called timidly for the boy. the words came _lowing to him. realized her situation. . to me into the garden. "You've become old. She spoke with a heavy tongue. It seemed like a dream to her. he started to speak. which he returned with a smile. "He's with you. don't worry. Her consciousness returned. my dear. and the heart stirred in his chest. The boy wept. with a singing voice. Siddhartha took him on his knees. she lay on Siddhartha's bed in the hut and bent over her stood Siddhartha. you're like him. Siddhartha. like a warning to remember something he had forgotten. And with that singsong. petted his hair. Siddhartha placed him on Vasudeva's bed. a Brahman prayer came to his mind. with a smile. who used to love her so much. which wondrously reminded him of something. Siddhartha gave him a look. Vasudeva stood by the stove and cooked rice. But you are like the young Samana." she said. but had already turned black and her body was swollen. though she lay unconscious in the ferryman's arms. my dear. Kamala looked into his eyes. was only now and then uttering a sob and fell asleep. old—could you still recognise me?" Siddhartha smiled: "Instantly. and now he knew that it was his own son. remembered the bite. she looked at her friend's face. Alas.
and the feeling of this both being present and at the same time real. waiting. But Siddhartha did not eat. with those lips. Quietly. more deeply than ever before. Kamala returned to consciousness. Without speaking. which wanted to take. quietly his eyes looked at hers. her gaze sought his eyes. She wanted to tell this to him. read in the pale face. For a long time. the eternity of every moment. he observed her mouth. I too will _ind peace. listening to the river. Kamala felt it.Once again. _illed himself with this sight. "You have found peace?" He smiled and placed his hand on hers. By what do I still recognise that you're Siddhartha? It's you. he sat. Deeply he felt. the feeling of eternity. "I'm seeing it. For a long time. in order to see the face of the perfected one. and it's not you. in the spring of his years. "I'm seeing it. the indestructibility of every life. just as good. In the stable. Siddhartha's eyes read the suffering on her mouth. that he used to. just as white. compare this mouth with a freshly cracked _ig. tired mouth. but the tongue no longer obeyed her will. Vasudeva had prepared rice for him. his mind becoming one with her suffering. saw his own face lying in the same manner. which had become thin. and saw at the same time his face and hers being young. Pain distorted her face. her old. just as quenched out. to breathe his peace. and he remembered. touched and . with _iery eyes. as if she had seen the other one. she looked at him." Siddhartha said nothing. completely _illed every aspect of his being. in the tired wrinkles. he read it. when the _inal shiver ran through her limbs. When the _inal pain _illed her eyes and made them grow dim. They've become completely different. For a long time. the two old men prepared beds of straw for themselves. Looking at him. and he saw the life fading from her eyes. "You have achieved it?" she asked. in this hour." she said. and that it was good." Siddhartha spoke in a whisper. Kamala never stopped looking into his eyes. and she thought that she had now found him in his place. surrounded by the past. She thought about her pilgrimage to Gotama." "You have found it. she said: "Now I see that your eyes have changed as well. When he rose. attentively. on her pale cheeks. and Vasudeva lay himself down to sleep. where their goat stood. he sat and looked at her peacefully dead face. with red lips. But Siddhartha went outside and sat this night before the hut. his _inger closed her eyelids.
have become even richer and happier now. on which my wife had died a long time ago. Kamala has died on the same bed. Siddhartha. even before the sun could be seen. A lot it has told me. with the thought of oneness. But occasionally. Let us also build Kamala's funeral pile on the same hill on which I had then built my wife's funeral pile." "Your son shall be welcome to me as well. "No. Siddhartha." While the boy was still asleep. they built the funeral pile. stepped to the door of the hut and listened. let's get to work. But now. . Vasudeva. my dear. "You haven't slept. he rose.encircled by all times of his life at the same time. My son has been given to me. I sat here." he said. but I see: no sadness has entered your heart. deeply it has _illed me with the healing thought. Early in the morning. who have been rich and happy. there is much to be done. I was listening to the river. Vasudeva came out of the stable and walked over to his friend." "No. how should I be sad? I. whether the boy was sleeping." "You've experienced suffering.
Vasudeva had again taken on the job of the ferryman all by himself. a mother's boy. For a long time. That young bird is accustomed to a different life. did not pay his respect to the old men. Slowly. I'm talking to you. Vasudeva waited. that he could not love him like a father. then Siddhartha began to understand that his son had not brought him happiness and peace. to a soft bed. did not want to do any work. Siddhartha waited for his son to understand him. accustomed to _iner food. waited and said nothing. Vasudeva took in the evening his friend aside and talked to him." he said. For long months. is worrying you. and the boy remained a stranger and in a gloomy disposition. he hoped to win him over. and he is also worrying me. stole from Vasudeva's fruit-‐trees. by friendly patience. gave no open look. when the boy had come to him. met his fate with resistance and denial. always picked the best piece of the meal for him. Since time had passed on in the meantime. he honoured his mourning. Since young Siddhartha was in the hut. did not want to eat. "Pardon me. to accept his love. he sat for many days by the hill of the dead. in order to be with his son. who greeted him as his son and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva's hut. Siddhartha spared him and let him do as he pleased. He did not force him. But he loved him. Siddhartha understood that his son did not know him. Rich and happy. watching. my dear.THE SON Timid and weeping. he had called himself. I'm seeing that you are tormenting yourself. to perhaps reciprocate it. . but suffering and worry. did not open his heart. he also saw and understood that the eleven-‐year-‐old was a pampered boy. pampered child could not suddenly and willingly be content with a life among strangers and in poverty. to a different nest. gloomy and shy. and he preferred the suffering and worries of love over happiness and joy without the boy. accustomed to giving orders to servants. for long months. the old men had split the work. the boy had attended his mother's funeral. and that he had grown up in the habits of rich people. Slowly. "from a friendly heart. One day. I'm seeing that you're in grief. Siddhartha understood that the mourning. he had listened to Siddhartha. did the work in the hut and the _ield. when Siddhartha the younger had once again tormented his father very much with spite and an unsteadiness in his wishes and had broken both of his rice-‐bowls. and Siddhartha. since he displayed a proud and stubbornly disobedient heart. Your son. Pale. he did many a chore for him.
and is shaking with laughter at out foolishness. what path to take. whose thoughts can't be his. ashamed. because you know that 'soft' is stronger than 'hard'. he also is called upon. to whom even rice is a delicacy. give him to them. he had to leave all this behind. his heart is proud and hard. One day. he too is of the eternal life. I praise you.He has not. You don't force him. But the river laughs. not for the teachings' sake. your son is not in the place where he can prosper." Vasudeva's smile _lourished more warmly. I'm _ighting for him. whose hearts are old and quiet and beats in a different pace than his? Isn't forced. bring him into his mother's house. against his will. Water wants to join water. it laughs at you and me. burden themselves with much sin. what pain to endure? Not a small one. Vasudeva. and don't you make it even harder on him with your kindness and patience? Don't you force him. it laughs at me. to live in a hut with two old banana-‐ eaters. Very good. youth wants to join youth. isn't he punished by all this?" Troubled. he too is called upon. Tell me. the river shall also talk to him. the arrogant and pampered boy. what actions to perform. after all. and among . don't beat him. You too should ask the river. you too should listen to it!" Troubled. I'm seeking to win his heart. bring him to a teacher. don't give him orders. his pain will be. in the many wrinkles of which there was incessant cheerfulness. Siddhartha looked into his friendly face. you and me. And when there aren't any around any more. oh friend. do much injustice. But do we. I asked the river. err a lot." "I knew it. there'll still be servants around. know what he is called upon to do. wouldn't punish him? Don't you shackle him with your love? Don't you make him feel inferior every day. "Give me some more time. "Oh yes. many times I have asked it. he asked: "What do you think should I do?" Quoth Vasudeva: "Bring him into the city. Water stronger than rocks. "How could I part with him?" he said quietly. ran away from riches and the city. Quietly. But aren't you mistaken in thinking that you wouldn't force him. being disgusted and fed up with it. but so that he shall be among other boys. people like this have to suffer a lot. with love and with friendly patience I intent to capture it. my dear! See. 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. I don't do anything of this. like you. love stronger than force. Siddhartha looked to the ground.
from _inding his path for himself? Would you think. Vasudeva had told him nothing. he could not give up the boy. from drinking the bitter drink for himself." Never before. He let the boy give him orders. from sin. anybody might perhaps be spared from taking this path? That perhaps your little son would be spared. softly. But this was a knowledge he could not act upon. "Often. because you love him. knowing. . Vasudeva also said nothing and waited. had he ever loved any person thus. Have you never thought of this?" "You're seeing into my heart. my dear. I have thought of this. his own knowledge. admonition? My dear. because you would like to keep him from suffering and pain and disappointment? But even if you would die ten times for him. his teachers warnings. 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. he touched Siddhartha's arm and said: "Ask the river about it. from soiling himself with life.girls. his fear to lose him. that story about Siddhartha. which teacher had been able to protect him from living his life for himself. thus blindly." Siddhartha spoke sadly. They were both masters of patience. have you entirely forgotten that story. Siddhartha thanked him. daily. He said nothing and waited. you would not be able to take the slightest part of his destiny upon yourself. how shall I put him. thus unsuccessfully. from foolishness? Were his father's religious devotion. and yet thus happily? Siddhartha could not heed his friend's advice. went troubled into the hut. the silent war of patience. from burdening himself with guilt. and in the world which is his own. patient. that story containing so many lessons. which you once told me here on this very spot? Who has kept the Samana Siddhartha safe from Sansara. he had not already thought and known for himself. Kindly. he began the mute struggle of friendliness. from greed. stronger was his tenderness. Had he ever lost his heart so much to something. a Brahman's son. into this world? Won't he become exuberant. his own search able to keep him safe? Which father. won't he lose himself to pleasure and power. thus sufferingly. But look. the ferryman's smile lit up. Vasudeva had spoken so many words. stronger than the knowledge was his love for the boy. won't he perhaps get entirely lost in Sansara?" Brightly. prayer. who had no tender heart anyhow. could not sleep for a long time. he let him disregard him. friendly. won't he repeat all of his father's mistakes.
and for him to answer every naughtiness with a smile. perhaps a very devout man. in stubborn disobedience and rage he stayed where he was. He did sense very well that this love. now he. he was bored by him. he felt at the same time. perhaps a saint. and was nevertheless in bliss. suffering for the sake of another person. came from the essence of his own being. this father. This pleasure also had to be atoned for. the son let him commit his foolish acts. But now. Now he too felt. and he openly turned against his father. a murky source. let him court for his affection. never he had been able to do this. had once said to him. suffered from it. in the days of their youth. Nevertheless. But the boy did not leave the hut." she had said to him. soft man. enriched by one thing. when the boy's face reminded him very much of Kamala. was nevertheless renewed in one respect. having become a fool on account of love. every insult with friendliness. and screamed in a powerful outburst his hatred and contempt into his father's face. clenched his _ists. loving another person. let him humiliate himself every day by giving in to his moods. lost to a love. and this was. when what young Siddhartha had on his mind came bursting forth. Much more the boy would have liked it if he had been threatened by him. was a passion. if he had been abused by him. a good. every viciousness with kindness. that it was Sansara. while comparing the childlike people with falling leaves. A day came. He was bored by this father. "You cannot love. to forget himself. suffered miserably. late. and nevertheless he had also sensed an accusation in that line. this strongest and strangest of all passions. . This father had nothing which would have delighted him and nothing which he would have feared. Siddhartha. He was a good man. this pain also had to be endured. he had told him to gather brushwood. Indeed. had also become completely a childlike person. Siddhartha suddenly had to think of a line which Kamala a long time ago. once in his lifetime. as it had seemed to him at that time. and he had agreed with her and had compared himself with a star. it was not worthless. it was necessary. to commit foolish acts for the love of another person. thumped on the ground with his feet. he had never been able to lose or devote himself completely to another person. the great distinction which set him apart from the childlike people. this blind love for his son. dark waters. kind.At one time. this very thing was the hated trick of this old sneak. all these there no attributes which could win the boy over. since his son was here. who kept him prisoner here in this miserable hut of his. The latter had given him a task. something very human. Through all this. these foolish acts also had to be committed.
But him. and Vasudeva helped him to tied the canes together with ropes of grass. Vasudeva said: "It might have been possible that the oar of our boat got lost. He's taking care of himself. We must build a raft. just as wise! But I. He already held the axe in his hands and began to make a raft of bamboo. he knows how to get around. you're not my father. "Why did you take the axe along?" asked Siddhartha. He'll perish. but you're suffering a pain at which one would like to laugh. who had been shivering with grief since those ranting speeches. he had disappeared. don't forget that. to get over the water. I do know. You want me to become like you. that you constantly want to punish me and put me down with your religious devotion and your indulgence. I see you suffering. The boat had also disappeared. and go to hell. pulled the raft upriver on the opposite bank. And in fact. you shall let run along. Alas. he is no child any more." But Siddhartha knew what his friend was thinking. He's doing what you've failed to do yourself. I do know. Vasudeva. at which you'll soon laugh for yourself." said Vasudeva. you don't dare. "to get our boat back." said Siddhartha. Then they crossed over." Siddhartha did not answer. "I'm not your servant. What had also disappeared was a small basket. than to become like you! I hate you. He's looking for the path to the city. "I must follow him. just to make you suffer. He thought. foamed at the father in a hundred savage and evil words. Then the boy ran away and only returned late at night."Get the brushwood for yourself!" he shouted foaming at the mouth. Siddhartha. woven out of bast of two colours. in which the ferrymen kept those copper and silver coins which they received as a fare. my friend. there was . But the next morning. listen up. the boy had made yesterday. drifted far off their course. I rather want to become a highway-‐ robber and murderer. "A child can't go through the forest all alone. Siddhartha saw it lying by the opposite bank." "We will build a raft. and he is right. just as soft. the boy would have thrown away or broken the oar in order to get even and in order to keep them from following him. that you won't hit me. which the boy has taken away. and if you've ten times been my mother's fornicator!" Rage and grief boiled over in him. just as devout. The boy had ran away. he's taking his course.
he reached a wide road. Deeply. receiving his _irst kiss from her. the hair full of dust. lived through all this once again. naked Samana. But Siddhartha bid his farewell. saw young Kamala walking among the high trees. saw Kamala's song-‐bird in the cage. where he had seen her for the _irst time in her sedan-‐chair. Clearly. which had made him go up to this place. by the entrance of the beautiful pleasure-‐garden. Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish. For a long time. Vasudeva pointed to the bottom of the boat and looked at his friend with a smile. he ran without stopping. he would conceal himself from him. the boy was far ahead and had already reached the city. he stood there. looking proudly and disdainfully back on his Brahmanism. like a wound. he stood there. For a long time.no oar left in the boat. he stopped. young. saw young Siddhartha in their place. looked at the monks. that he was not allowed to cling him. Either. to look for the run-‐away. the thought occurred to him that his search was useless. beginning proudly and full of desire his worldly life. was not worried for his son. listening to the story of his life. As he continued thinking. 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. near the city. was once again old and tired. felt once again disgust. After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time. Vasudeva did not stop him. on his part. which used to belong to Kamala. When. He saw Kamaswami. just to satisfy his desire. breathed Sansara. The past rose up in his soul. was once again healed by the holy Om. just to perhaps see him one more time. or. no longer to save him. and he felt at the same time that this wound had . For a long time. He started making a new oar. seeing images. that he could not help his son. seeing monks in yellow robes walking among the beautiful trees. that he knew deep inside that he had neither perished nor was in any danger in the forest. he saw himself being served food and drink by Kamala. saw the servants. so he thought. felt once again the wish to annihilate himself. And he ran up to just outside of the city. Siddhartha stood there and looked through the open gate into the garden. a bearded. the gamblers with the dice. the musicians. Nevertheless. the pursuer. if he should still be on his way. again he saw himself standing there. pondering. When Siddhartha had already been walking through the forest for a long time. he felt the love for the run-‐away in his heart. he also found that he. the orgies.
not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. That this wound did not blossom yet, did not shine yet, at this hour, made him sad. Instead of the desired goal, which had drawn him here following the runaway son, there was now emptiness. Sadly, he sat down, felt something dying in his heart, experienced emptiness, saw no joy any more, no goal. He sat lost in thought and waited. This he had learned by the river, this one thing: waiting, having patience, listening attentively. And he sat and listened, in the dust of the road, listened to his heart, beating tiredly and sadly, waited for a voice. Many an hour he crouched, listening, saw no images any more, fell into emptiness, let himself fall, without seeing a path. And when he felt the wound burning, he silently spoke the Om, _illed himself with Om. The monks in the garden saw him, and since he crouched for many hours, and dust was gathering on his gray hair, one of them came to him and placed two bananas in front of him. The old man did not see him. From this petri_ied state, he was awoken by a hand touching his shoulder. Instantly, he recognised this touch, this tender, bashful touch, and regained his senses. He rose and greeted Vasudeva, who had followed him. And when he looked into Vasudeva's friendly face, into the small wrinkles, which were as if they were _illed with nothing but his smile, into the happy eyes, then he smiled too. Now he saw the bananas lying in front of him, picked them up, gave one to the ferryman, ate the other one himself. After this, he silently went back into the forest with Vasudeva, returned home to the ferry. Neither one talked about what had happened today, neither one mentioned the boy's name, neither one spoke about him running away, neither one spoke about the wound. In the hut, Siddhartha lay down on his bed, and when after a while Vasudeva came to him, to offer him a bowl of coconut-‐milk, he already found him asleep.
For a long time, the wound continued to burn. Many a traveller Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter, and he saw none of them without envying him, without thinking: "So many, so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes—why don't I? Even bad people, even thieves and robbers have children and love them, and are being loved by them, all except for me." Thus simply, thus without reason he now thought, thus similar to the childlike people he had become. Differently than before, he now looked upon people, less smart, less proud, but instead warmer, more curious, more involved. When he ferried travellers of the ordinary kind, childlike people, businessmen, warriors, women, these people did not seem alien to him as they used to: he understood them, he understood and shared their life, which was not guided by thoughts and insight, but solely by urges and wishes, he felt like them. Though he was near perfection and was bearing his _inal wound, it still seemed to him as if those childlike people were his brothers, their vanities, desires for possession, and ridiculous aspects were no longer ridiculous to him, became understandable, became lovable, even became worthy of veneration to him. The blind love of a mother for her child, the stupid, blind pride of a conceited father for his only son, the blind, wild desire of a young, vain woman for jewelry and admiring glances from men, all of these urges, all of this childish stuff, all of these simple, foolish, but immensely strong, strongly living, strongly prevailing urges and desires were now no childish notions for Siddhartha any more, he saw people living for their sake, saw them achieving in_initely much for their sake, travelling, conducting wars, suffering in_initely much, bearing in_initely much, and he could love them for it, he saw life, that what is alive, the indestructible, the Brahman in each of their passions, each of their acts. Worthy of love and admiration were these people in their blind loyalty, their blind strength and tenacity. They lacked nothing, there was nothing the knowledgeable one, the thinker, had to put him above them except for one little thing, a single, tiny, small thing: the consciousness, the conscious thought of the oneness of all life. And Siddhartha even doubted in many an hour, whether this knowledge, this thought was to be valued thus highly, whether it might not also perhaps be a childish idea of the thinking people, of the thinking and childlike people. In all other respects, the worldly people were of equal rank to the wise men, were often far superior to them, just as animals too can, after all, in some moments, seem to be superior to humans in their tough, unrelenting performance of what is necessary.
Slowly blossomed, slowly ripened in Siddhartha the realisation, the knowledge, what wisdom actually was, what the goal of his long search was. It was nothing but a readiness of the soul, an ability, a secret art, to think every moment, while living his life, the thought of oneness, to be able to feel and inhale the oneness. Slowly this blossomed in him, was shining back at him from Vasudeva's old, childlike face: harmony, knowledge of the eternal perfection of the world, smiling, oneness. But the wound still burned, longingly and bitterly Siddhartha thought of his son, nurtured his love and tenderness in his heart, allowed the pain to gnaw at him, committed all foolish acts of love. Not by itself, this _lame would go out. And one day, when the wound burned violently, Siddhartha ferried across the river, driven by a yearning, got off the boat and was willing to go to the city and to look for his son. The river _lowed softly and quietly, it was the dry season, but its voice sounded strange: it laughed! It laughed clearly. The river laughed, it laughed brightly and clearly at the old ferryman. Siddhartha stopped, he bent over the water, in order to hear even better, and he saw his face re_lected in the quietly moving waters, and in this re_lected face there was something, which reminded him, something he had forgotten, and as he thought about it, he found it: this face resembled another face, which he used to know and love and also fear. It resembled his father's face, the Brahman. And he remembered how he, a long time ago, as a young man, had forced his father to let him go to the penitents, how he had bed his farewell to him, how he had gone and had never come back. Had his father not also suffered the same pain for him, which he now suffered for his son? Had his father not long since died, alone, without having seen his son again? Did he not have to expect the same fate for himself? Was it not a comedy, a strange and stupid matter, this repetition, this running around in a fateful circle? The river laughed. Yes, so it was, everything came back, which had not been suffered and solved up to its end, the same pain was suffered over and over again. But Siddhartha went back into the boat and ferried back to the hut, thinking of his father, thinking of his son, laughed at by the river, at odds with himself, tending towards despair, and not less tending towards laughing along at (?? über) himself and the entire world. Alas, the wound was not blossoming yet, his heart was still _ighting his fate, cheerfulness and victory were not yet shining from his suffering. Nevertheless, he felt hope, and once he had returned to the
that he was God himself. how he ferried across the water. he talked incessantly. let his silent love and cheerfulness. until it had cooled and become one with the river. and the more he felt it and entered into it. of his walk to the city. that he himself had almost reached the same state. no longer a human being. the master of listening. that this motionless listener was absorbing his confession into himself like a tree the rain. to say everything. that he was the eternal itself.hut. that Vasudeva had already been like this for a long time. When he had _inished talking. he sensed how his pain. He no longer used the ferry-‐boat. of the burning wound. of his envy at the sight of happy fathers. Unchanged and _lourishing was only the joy and the cheerful benevolence of his face. everything he could tell. slowly he started talking. still admitting and confessing. Vasudeva was sitting in the hut and weaving a basket. he felt an undefeatable desire to open up to Vasudeva. his arms and hands as well. Vasudeva turned his friendly eyes. Vasudeva's listening gave Siddhartha a stronger sensation than ever before. that this motionless man was the river itself. of his knowledge of the foolishness of such wishes. . his fears _lowed over to him. which had grown slightly weak. at him. And while Siddhartha stopped thinking of himself and his wound. spoke for a long time. While he spoke. shine at him. a childish run-‐away. everything could be said. while Vasudeva was listening with a quiet face. came back at him from his counterpart. He felt. his eyes were starting to get weak. almost forever. understanding and knowledge. even the most embarrassing parts. how the river had laughed. he started bidding his farewell to Vasudeva. he now told him of. To show his wound to this listener was the same as bathing it in the river. who was listening to him. this realisation of Vasudeva's changed character took possession of him. everything shown. willing to walk to the city. He reported everything. While he was still speaking. he was able to say everything. in his heart. Thorough all this. the more he realised that everything was in order and natural. that he was now seeing old Vasudeva as the people see the gods. to show him everything. and that this could not last. said nothing. Siddhartha felt more and more that this was no longer Vasudeva. of his futile _ight against them. that only he had not quite recognised it. He presented his wound. Siddhartha sat down next to the old man. the less wondrous it became. yes. how his secret hope _lowed over. What they had never talked about. and not just his eyes. also told how he _led today. at that time.
lonely. Siddhartha nodded." he said. all of these waves and waters were hurrying. not the ones of children from those of men. and the river's voice sounded full of yearning. sat down with him. today it sounded new. he himself appeared." They listened. not the happy ones from the weeping ones. he could no longer tell the many voices apart. full of unsatis_iable desire. But the longing voice had changed.He took Siddhartha's hand. the lake. Kamala's image also appeared and was dispersed. and the image of Govinda. and the water turned into vapour and rose to the sky. greedily rushing along the burning course of his young wishes. the boy. the lamentation of yearning and the laughter of the knowledgeable one. He was now nothing but a listener. longingly. completely empty. Let's listen. a thousand voices. each one obsessed by the goal. the sea. he had heard all this. full of burning woe. turned all into the river. Siddhartha made an effort to listen better. laughing and sad ones. they all belonged together. each one heading for his goal. but other voices joined it. suffering. full of suffering. lonely as well. a river. and other images. "Listen better!" Vasudeva whispered. he felt. that he had now _inished learning to listen. For the goal. each one suffering. Often before. his own image. good and bad voices. and they merged with each other. and all goals were reached. the rapids. being the river. searching. turned into a source. "But you haven't heard everything. _lowed on once again. the waterfall. and images appeared to him in the moving water: his father appeared. the river. singing in many voices. Siddhartha looked into the water. smiled at the river. a stream. Siddhartha saw it hurrying. The river sang with a voice of suffering. it _lowed towards its goal. Softly sounded the river. you'll hear more. lamentingly its voice sang. a hundred voices. many goals. these many voices in the river. completely concentrated on listening. The image of his father. "Do you hear?" Vasudeva's mute gaze asked. he had ever seen. the image of his son merged. "You've heard it laugh. he also being tied with the bondage of yearning to his distant son. turned into rain and poured down from the sky. headed forward once again. lonely. towards goals. led him to the seat by the bank. which consisted of him and his loved ones and of all people. for the goal. suffering. Siddhartha listened. It still resounded. and every goal was followed by a new one. the scream of rage and the moaning of the . the river was heading. longingly it sang. Already. desiring. mourning for his son. voices of joy and of suffering. longing. headed all. his son appeared.
all of this together was the world. with the current of life. perceived the whole. his self had _lown into the oneness. all yearning. he left. entangled a thousand times. this song of a thousand voices. Brightly his smile was shining. Brightly. his suffering was shining. Vasudeva's smile was shining. With deep joy. When Vasudeva rose from the seat by the bank. and brightly the same smile was now starting to shine on Siddhartha's face as well. On his face _lourished the cheerfulness of a knowledge. as the Om was _loating in the air over all the voices of the river. saw his steps full of peace." he said quietly. I've been Vasudeva the ferryman. river. . With a bright smile. Now it's enough. belonging to the oneness. Now that it has come. "You'll go into the forests?" "I'm going into the forests. and said: "I've been waiting for this hour. saw his head full of lustre. which is in agreement with the _low of events. In this hour." spoke Vasudeva with a bright smile. I'm going into the oneness. hut. "I've known it. which is no longer opposed by any will. all goals. all suffering. for a long time. all voices.dying ones. full of sympathy for the pain of others. "Do you hear. the oneness. with deep solemnity he watched him leave. then the great song of the thousand voices consisted of a single word. And when Siddhartha was listening attentively to this river. For a long time. he softly touched his shoulder with his hand. which knows perfection. Siddhartha!" Siddhartha made a deep bow before him who bid his farewell. let me leave. Siddhartha watched him leaving. when he looked at his friend. everything was one. And everything together. His wound blossomed. in this careful and tender manner. Siddhartha stopped _ighting his fate. but when he heard them all. when he did not tie his soul to any particular voice and submerged his self into it. _loating radiantly over all the wrinkles of his old face. all pleasure. my dear. was the music of life. Farewell. stopped suffering. I've been waiting for this hour. full of sympathy for the pleasure of others. when he looked into Siddhartha's eyes and saw the cheerfulness of the knowledge shining in them. everything was intertwined and connected. devoted to the _low. All of it together was the _low of events." Vasudeva's gaze asked again. when he neither listened to the suffering nor the laughter. farewell. all that was good and evil. which was Om: the perfection. saw his body full of light. farewell.
GOVINDA Together with other monks. because he always thinks of nothing but the object of his search. striving for your goal. because. He heard talk of an old ferryman. though he was also looked upon with veneration by the younger monks on account of his age and his modesty. eager to see the ferryman. are perhaps indeed a searcher. Because. and when they got off the boat on the other side. a searcher for the right path?" Quoth Siddhartha. oh honourable one?" Quoth Siddhartha: "What should I possibly have to tell you. When Govinda went back on his way. this seems to be my destiny. he said to the old man: "You're very good to us monks and pilgrims. oh venerable one. You too. because he has a goal. I'm old. there are many things you don't see. Aren't you too. though he had lived his entire life by the rules. "but I haven't stopped searching. you have already ferried many of us across the river. having no goal. have been searching. oh venerable one? Perhaps that you're searching far too much? That in all that searching. because he is obsessed by the goal. But _inding means: being free. ferryman. he chose the path to the ferry. "then it might easily happen that the only thing his eyes still see is that what he searches for. You. Never I'll stop searching." spoke Govinda. to let anything enter his mind. "When someone is searching. smiling from his old eyes: "Do you call yourself a searcher. so it seems to me. Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-‐grove. which are directly in front of your eyes. He came to the river and asked the old man to ferry him over. being open. the restlessness and the searching still had not perished from his heart. you don't _ind the time for _inding?" "How come?" asked Govinda. that he is unable to _ind anything." "I don't quite understand yet. and who was regarded as a wise man by many. which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. Searching means: having a goal. oh venerable one." said Siddhartha. though you are already of an old in years and are wearing the robe of Gotama's monks?" "It's true. who lived one day's journey away by the river. "what do you mean by this?" . Would you like to tell me something." asked Govinda.
Vasudeva. travelling on foot. from my heart. in those days when we lived with the penitents in the forest. and have sat down with him to guard his sleep. A beautiful courtesan has been my teacher for a long time. Be welcome. even a follower of Buddha. have to wear many a robe. Govinda. I'm greeting you. the ferryman Vasudeva. and some gamblers with dice. not without hesitation. as it seems to me. I am one of those. I'm happy to see you once again! You've changed a lot. you love a bit to mock people. certain insights. Many questions he posed to the friend of his youth. you still found certain thoughts. you follow. "A ferryman. I'm also grateful to him. When in the next morning the time had come to start the day's journey. I have learned here from this river and from my predecessor. "Are you Siddhartha?" he asked with a timid voice." Astonished. oh Siddhartha. have to change a lot. But most of all." Govinda said: "Still. Nevertheless. permit me to ask one more question. or a knowledge. very grateful. I have had many teachers since then. Govinda said. Siddhartha. "I wouldn't have recognised you this time as well! From my heart. But. my dear. the monk looked into the ferryman's eyes. these words: "Before I'll continue on my path. Siddhartha laughed. and a rich merchant was my teacher. I have stuck with this. He was a very simple person. started to distrust teachers and teachings and to turn my back to them. has been my teacher. oh Govinda. Siddhartha. my friend. oh venerable one. as if he had been the object of a magic spell. Do you have a teaching? Do you have a faith. but he knew what is necessary just as well as Gotama. Many people. and spend the night in my hut. my dear.Quoth Siddhartha: "A long time ago. many things Siddhartha had to tell him from his life. you've once before been at this river and have found a sleeping man by the river. he was a perfect man. he was no thinker. that I already as a young man. on the pilgrimage." Govinda stayed the night in the hut and slept on the bed which used to be Vasudeva's bed. which helps you to live and to do right?" Quoth Siddhartha: "You know. yes. though you've found no teachings. he sat with me when I had fallen asleep in the forest. But haven't you found something by yourself. a saint.—And so you've now become a ferryman?" In a friendly manner. Once. . I believe in you and know that you haven't followed a teacher. I've also learned from him. you did not recognise the sleeping man. Govinda. many years ago.
" Quoth Siddhartha: "I've had thoughts. Look. It does really seem like this. Knowledge can be conveyed. even as a young man. but which is my best thought. there is no other way for him who wants to teach. I have felt knowledge in me. this is one of my thoughts. again and again. Everything is one-‐sided which can be thought with thoughts and said with words. A person or an act is never entirely Sansara or entirely Nirvana. it's all one-‐sided. But the world itself. he will reach the Nirvana. When the exalted Gotama spoke in his teachings of the world. because we are subject to deception. all lacks completeness. roundness. listen well! The sinner. Time is not real. it is possible to be carried by it. No. And if time is not real. into deception and truth. sometimes suspected. but in times to come he will be Brahma again. "Listen well. which I have found: wisdom cannot be passed on. is also a deception. which I am and which you are. and insight. but not wisdom. is a sinner. "I'm not kidding. I'm telling you what I've found. between suffering and blissfulness. Sometimes. my dear. Govinda. Govinda. what has driven me away from the teachers. as if time was something real. he is not in the process of developing. it can be lived. 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. between evil and good. a person is never entirely holy or entirely sinful. will be Buddha—and now see: these 'times to come' are a deception. miracles can be performed with it. yes. as one would feel life in one's heart. you would delight my heart. I have experienced this often and often again. which you'll again regard as a joke or foolishness. This was what I. but it would be hard for me to convey them to you.which are your own and which help you to live? If you would like to tell me some of these. oneness. my dear Govinda. Wisdom which a wise man tries to pass on to someone always sounds like foolishness. There have been many thoughts." "How come?" asked Govinda timidly. though our capacity for thinking does not know how else to picture these things. It can be found." "Are you kidding?" asked Govinda. he had to divide it into Sansara and Nirvana. what exists around us and inside of us. within the sinner is now and today already the . then the gap which seems to be between the world and the eternity. all just one half. I have found a thought. into suffering and salvation. but it cannot be expressed in words and taught. is never one-‐ sided. It cannot be done differently. for an hour or for an entire day. are only a parable! The sinner is not on his way to become a Buddha.
vanity. in order to learn how to love the world. and needed the most shameful despair. In deep meditation. each one is Brahman. his future is already all there. in order to stop comparing it to some world I wished." he said playing with it. in everyone the Buddha which is coming into being. this is why I love it and see worth and purpose in each of its veins and cavities. that it is a stone. therefore I also grant it importance. the possible. The world. and will. "is a stone. and there everything is good. are some of the thoughts which have come into my mind. only my willingness. oh Govinda. but . It is not possible for any person to see how far another one has already progressed on his path. in the gray. to do nothing but work for my bene_it. in the robber and dice-‐gambler. all small children already have the old person in themselves. to be unable to ever harm me. I do not venerate and love it because it could turn into this or that. all sin already carries the divine forgiveness in itself. and will be as if it was simultaneous. after a certain time. In the past. all dying people the eternal life. death is to me like life. others like sand. all infants already have death. I would have said: This stone is just a stone. in the Brahman." Siddhartha bent down. and weighed it in his hand. in the sound it makes when I knock at it. everything only requires my consent. my loving agreement. everything is perfect. I would perhaps have thought in the past. it is also animal. I imagined. to be good for me. "This here. Thus. it is also Buddha. or on a slow path towards perfection: no. I see whatever exists as good. the desire for possessions. in the hardness. the robber is waiting. some kind of perfection I had made up. There are stones which feel like oil or soap. it is also god. in the yellow. it is perfect in every moment.future Buddha. the Buddha is waiting. and will turn from soil into a plant or animal or human being. wisdom like foolishness. But today I think: this stone is a stone. and others like leaves. you have to worship in him. is. in you. but rather because it is already and always everything— and it is this very fact. I needed lust. I have experienced on my body and on my soul that I needed sin very much. the hidden Buddha. in the dryness or wetness of its surface. sin like holiness. everything has to be as it is. but to leave it as it is and to love it and to enjoy being a part of it.—These. it is worthless. and every one is special and prays the Om in its own way. in order to learn how to give up all resistance. perhaps turn into soil. Therefore. there is the possibility to put time out of existence. everything is Brahman. picked up a stone from the ground. is not imperfect. to see all life which was. that it appears to me now and today as a stone. it belongs to the world of the Maja. but because it might be able to become also a human being and a spirit in the cycle of transformations. my friend Govinda.
There is no thing which would be Nirvana. Because salvation and virtue as well. perhaps it are the many words. a man has been my predecessor and teacher. Perhaps it are these which keep you from _inding peace. they have no hardness. without teachers. as soon as it is put into words. no smell. a holy man. are mere words. that this what is one man's treasure and wisdom always sounds like foolishness to another person. Or perhaps what I meant was. Therefore. my dear: I don't differentiate much between thoughts and words. no colours. my friend. nothing else. there is just the word Nirvana. and this is this very fact which I like and regard as wonderful and worthy of worship. your tree." Quoth Govinda: "Not just a word. it might be so. no edges. everything always becomes a bit different. that love this very stone. your river— are they actually a reality?" . only because he had believed in the river." Govinda listened silently. He had noticed that the river's spoke to him. I also have no high opinion of thoughts. who has for many years simply believed in the river. for instance. gets distorted a bit. knew more than you and me. it educated and taught him." Siddhartha continued: "A thought. I have a better opinion of things. I must confess to you. no softness. Sansara and Nirvana as well. "Why have you told me this about the stone?" he asked hesitantly after a pause. Govinda. a bit silly—yes. the river seemed to be a god to him.—But let me speak no more of this. he knew everything. actually something real. every cloud. "I did it without any speci_ic intention. is oily or juicy. and this is also very good. This are things. he learned from it. and I like it a lot. something which has existence? Isn't it just a deception of the Maja. and the river. It is a thought. I can love a stone. every beetle was just as divine and knows just as much and can teach just as much as the worshipped river. and also a tree or a piece of bark. no taste. and all these things we are looking at and from which we can learn. The words are not good for the secret meaning.simultaneously and just as much it is a stone. Govinda. But I cannot love words. without books. But when this holy man went into the forests. is Nirvana." Govinda said: "But is that what you call `things'. for many years he did not know that every wind. every bird. I also very much agree with this. teachings are no good for me. they have nothing but words. Here on this ferry-‐boat. just an image and illusion? Your stone. To be honest. and things can be loved.
his smile. his teachings sound foolish. "I do not care very much about." said Siddhartha. or silly is contained in them. even with your great teacher. while bowing for a farewell: "I thank you. clearer. to be able to look upon it and me and all beings with love and admiration and great respect. I prefer the thing over the words. he. my words of love are in a contradiction. seems to me to be the most important thing of all. But different from his thoughts seemed to me Siddhartha's hands and feet. This being as it may. with this we are right in the middle of the thicket of opinions. purer. in his life. never since then have I met a person of whom . not to hate it and me. in the dispute about words." "I know it. Govinda. place more importance on his acts and life than on his speeches. to teach them! Even with him. not in his thoughts. This is what makes them so dear and worthy of veneration for me: they are like me. to use a long. for telling me some of your thoughts. oh Govinda. For I cannot deny. and yet loved people thus much. after all I would then also be an illusion. his breath. his forehead. foolish. not all have been instantly understandable to me. his smile shone golden. Never again. sympathy. How should he not know love. only in his actions. and thus they are always like me. in their meaninglessness. To thoroughly understand the world. may be the thing great thinkers do. his walk. Not in his speech. He commands benevolence. the two old men said nothing. not to despise it. but not love." (But secretly he thought to himself: This Siddhartha is a bizarre person. I know that I am in agreement with Gotama. his greeting." For a long time. who has discovered all elements of human existence in their transitoriness. he forbade us to tie our heart in love to earthly things. I can love them. more on the gestures of his hand than his opinions."This too." spoke Govinda. "But this very thing was discovered by the exalted one to be a deception. this contradiction is a deception. "I know it. his eyes. For this very reason. They are partially strange thoughts. Therefore. and I wish you to have calm days. after our exalted Gotama has become one with the Nirvana. to despise it. nothing strange. tolerance. I distrust in words so much. Then spoke Govinda. he expresses bizarre thoughts. for I know. And this is now a teaching you will laugh about: love. So differently sound the exalted one's pure teachings. Siddhartha. to explain it. I see his greatness. clemency. laborious life only to help them. And behold. a seeming contradiction with Gotama's words. But I'm only interested in being able to love the world." spoke Siddhartha." "This I understand. I thank you. Let the things be illusions or not. more comprehensible.
Govinda!" But while Govinda with astonishment. He saw the face of a _ish. oh honourable one. "Siddhartha. Siddhartha. which I can understand! Give me something to be with me on my path. instead he saw other faces. this Siddhartha. "Bend down to me! Like this. I have found to be like this. give me something on my way which I can grasp. Deeply he bowed to him who was calmly sitting. even closer! Very close! Kiss my forehead. bent down closely to him and touched his forehead with his lips. of hundreds. to imagine Nirvana and Sansara as one. and which were still all Siddhartha. my path. "we have become old men. of thousands. his skin and his hair. Tell me. and yet drawn by great love and expectation. with yearning. a long sequence. one more word. "Bent down to me!" he whispered quietly in Govinda's ear. a _lowing river of faces. shines a cheerfulness and mildness and holiness. and there was a con_lict in his heart. which all came and disappeared. which all constantly changed and renewed themselves. a carp. often dark. while even a certain contempt for the words of his friend was _ighting in him against an immense love and veneration. with an in_initely painfully opened mouth. that you have found peace. which I have seen in no other person since the _inal death of our exalted teacher. and yet all seemed to be there simultaneously." Siddhartha said nothing and looked at him with the ever unchanged. with fading eyes—he saw the face of a new-‐born . May his teachings be strange. the face of a dying _ish. many. with fear. out of every part of him shines a purity. out of his gaze and his hand. It it often hard. I see. something miraculous happened to him. eternal not-‐ _inding. this happened to him: He no longer saw the face of his friend Siddhartha. may his words sound foolish. suffering." he spoke. he once again bowed to Siddhartha. shines a calmness. beloved. Siddhartha saw it and smiled.I felt: this is a holy man! Only him. While his thoughts were still dwelling on Siddhartha's wondrous words. while he was still struggling in vain and with reluctance to think away time. It is unlikely for one of us to see the other again in this incarnation. quiet smile. Govinda stared at his face. and the eternal search was visible in his look.) As Govinda thought like this. obeyed his words. I confess that I haven't found it. drawn by love.
saw Krishna. like a _ire burnt the feeling of the most intimate love. the injury of which tasted sweet. without any time having passed between the one and the other face—and all of these _igures and faces rested. wise. like a transparent skin. Govinda saw it like this. _lowed. and this mask was Siddhartha's smiling face. this criminal in bondage. all transformations.child. all existence. Like this. each one helping the other. a me and a you. this smile of Siddhartha was precisely the same. Govinda. a Gotama. precisely as he used to smile. giving re-‐birth to it. Govinda knew. tears he knew nothing of. loving it. saw Agni—he saw all of these _igures and faces in a thousand relationships with one another. whether the vision had lasted a second or a hundred years. red and full of wrinkles. the humblest veneration in his heart. the Buddha. each one was a will to die. this smile of simultaneousness above the thousand births and deaths. was precisely of the same kind as the quiet. cold. _loated along and merged with each other. motionless. perhaps very mockingly. of bulls. perhaps very benevolently. of boars. impenetrable. not knowing any more whether there existed a Siddhartha. as he had seen it himself with great respect a hundred times. void— he saw the heads of animals. a shell or mold or mask of water. perhaps benevolent. distorted from crying—he saw the face of a murderer. of birds—he saw gods. after under its surface the depth of the thousandfoldness had closed up again. of crocodiles. which he had just kissed. was always re-‐ born. and they were all constantly covered by something thin. the exalted one. The face was unchanged. he saw him plunging a knife into the body of another person—he saw. And. smiled quietly and softly. Govinda bowed. Govinda still stood for a little while bent over Siddhartha's quiet face. naked in positions and cramps of frenzied love—he saw corpses stretched out. generated themselves. the perfected ones are smiling. this smile of the mask. which had just been the scene of all manifestations. kneeling and his head being chopped off by the executioner with one blow of his sword—he saw the bodies of men and women. touching the . and this mask was smiling. in the same second. feeling in his innermost self as if he had been wounded by a divine arrow. Not knowing any more whether time existed. a passionately painful confession of transitoriness. but yet existing. which he. thousand-‐fold smile of Gotama. ran down his old face. without individuality of its own. hating it. perhaps mocking. like a thin glass or ice. he bowed. in this very same moment touched with his lips. Deeply. of elephants. and yet none of them died. received evermore a new face. he smiled silently. being enchanted and dissolved in his innermost self. each one only transformed. delicate. this smile of oneness above the _lowing forms. destroying it. Deeply.
ground. whose smile reminded him of everything he had ever loved in his life. . before him who was sitting motionlessly. what had ever been valuable and holy to him in his life.
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