The Journey to the West, Revised Edition, Volume 2

by Unknown

  I view this divine mountain and tears fall;

  I face it and my sorrows multiply.

  The mountain, I thought then, would not be harmed;

  Today I know this place has suffered loss.

  Hateful was that Erlang who vanquished me,

  That heinous Little Sage who oppressed me.

  In violence he dug up my parental tombs;

  With no cause he broke up my ancestral graves.

  All Heaven’s mists and fog are now dispersed;

  The whole land’s wind and clouds both dissipate.

  None can hear a tiger’s roar on eastern peaks;

  Who sees a white ape howling on western slopes?

  The northern gorge has no trace of fox or hare;

  All deer have vanished from the southern glen.

  Green rocks are burned to form a thousand bricks;

  The bright sand’s changed to a pile of dirt.

  Tall pines outside the cave have fallen down;

  Green cedars before the cliff are thin and scarce.

  Chun, shan, huai, kui, li, and tan2 all are scorched;

  Peach, pear, prune, plum, almond, and date are gone.

  How could silkworms be fed with no mulberry?

  Midst few bamboos and willows birds cannot live.

  Well-formed rocks on the peak have turned to dust;

  The brook’s water has dried up—all is grass.

  No orchid grows on parched earth below the cliff;

  Creepers o’erspread the brown mud by the road.

  To what region have birds of past days flown?

  To which mountain have the beasts of old retired?

  This gutted spot that snakes and leopards loathe!

  This blasted place that cranes and serpents shun!

  It must be for evil deeds in former times

  That I should this day suffer so much pain.

  As the Great Sage was thus expressing his grief, seven or eight small monkeys suddenly leaped out with a cry from among the tall grass and bushes on the slope. They rushed forward to surround him and kowtow, shouting, “Father Great Sage! You’ve come home today?” “Why aren’t you all having a little fun?” asked the Handsome Monkey King. “Why is everyone in hiding? I’ve been back for quite a while, and I haven’t seen even the shadow of one of you! Why is that?” When the several monkeys heard these words, every one of them began to weep. “Since the Great Sage was taken captive to the Region Above,” they said, “we have been suffering from the hands of hunters, truly an unbearable affliction. How could we withstand those sharp arrows and strong bows, those yellow hawks and wicked hounds, those ensnaring nets and sickle-shaped spears! To preserve our lives, none of us dares come out to play; instead, we conceal ourselves deep in the cave dwelling or take refuge in some distant lairs. Only in hunger do we go steal some grass on the meadow for food, and in thirst we drink the clear liquid from downstream. Just now we heard the voice of our Father Great Sage, and that was why we came to receive you. We beg you to take care of us.”

  When the Great Sage heard these words, he became more distressed. He then asked, “How many of you are there still in this mountain?” “Young and old,” said the monkeys, “altogether no more than a thousand.” The Great Sage said, “In former times, I had forty-seven thousand little monsters here. Where did they go?” The monkeys said, “When Father left, this mountain was burned by the Bodhisattva Erlang, and more than half of them were killed by the fire. Some of us managed to save our lives by squatting in the wells, diving into the brook, or hiding beneath the sheet iron bridge. When the fire was extinguished and the smoke cleared, we came out to find that flowers and fruits were no longer available for food. The difficulty in finding sustenance drove another half of the monkeys away, leaving those of us to suffer here in the mountain. These two years saw our number dwindle even further by more than half when hunters came to abduct us.”

  “For what purpose?” asked Pilgrim. “Talk about those hunters,” said the monkeys, “they are truly abominable! Those of us who were shot by arrows, pierced by spears, or clubbed to death they took away for food to be served with rice. The dead monkeys would be skinned and boned, cooked with sauce and steamed with vinegar, fried with oil, and sauteed with salt. Those of us who were caught by the net or the trap would be led away live; they would be taught to skip ropes, to act, to somersault, and to do cartwheels. They would have to beat the drum and the gong on the streets and perform every kind of trick to entertain humans.”

  When the Great Sage heard these words, he became terribly angry. “Who is in charge in the cave now?” he asked. “We still have Ma and Liu, the two marshals,” said the little fiends, “Peng and Ba, the two generals: they are in charge.” “Report to them at once,” said the Great Sage, “and say that I’ve returned.” Those little fiends dashed inside the cave and cried, “Father Great Sage has come home!” When Ma, Liu, Peng, and Ba heard the report, they rushed out of the door to kowtow and to receive him inside the cave. The Great Sage took a seat in the middle as the various fiends all lined up before him to pay homage. “Father Great Sage,” they said, “we heard recently that you had regained your life so that you could protect the Tang Monk on his journey to the Western Heaven to acquire scriptures. Why are you not heading toward the West? Why do you come back to this mountain?”

  “Little ones,” said the Great Sage, “you have no idea that the Tang Monk is wholly ignorant of who is worthy and who is foolish. For his sake, I caught fiends and overcame demons throughout the journey, using all my abilities. Several times I slew a monster, but, accusing me of doing evil and violence, he disowned me as his disciple and banished me back here. He even wrote me a formal letter of banishment as proof that he would never want to use me again.”

  Clapping their hands and roaring with laughter, the monkeys said, “Lucky! Lucky! What do you want to be a monk for? Come home and you can lead us to have a few years’ fun. Quick! Let’s bring out the coconut wine for the reception of Father.” “Let’s not drink wine just yet,” said the Great Sage. “Let me ask you, how often do those hunters come to our mountain?” “Great Sage,” said Ma and Liu, “there’s no telling of time. They are here every day to make trouble.” The Great Sage asked, “Why aren’t they here today?” Ma and Liu replied, “Just wait and you’ll see them come.”

  The Great Sage gave this order: “Little ones, go up to the mountain and bring me the rocks that have been burned to small pieces. Pile them up around here in piles of thirty or sixty pieces. I have use for them.” Those little monkeys were like a cloud of bees; they swarmed all over the mountain and brought back the rock pieces and piled them together. When the Great Sage saw that, he said, “Little ones, go hide in the cave. Let old Monkey exercise his magic.” Our Great Sage went straight up to the peak to look around, and he saw over a thousand men and horses approaching from the southern half of the mountain. Beating drums and striking gongs, they were holding spears and swords, leading hawks and hounds. When the Monkey King stared carefully at them, they appeared to be most ferocious indeed. Dear men! Truly fierce! He saw

  Fox skins covered their heads and backs;

  Silk brocades wrapped around their torsos;

  Quivers full of wolf-teeth arrows;3

  And carved bows hung on their thighs.

  The men seemed mountain-prowling tigers;

  The horses, like brook-leaping dragons.

  The whole group of men led their hounds,

  As hawks perched on all their shoulders.

  They hauled fire cannons4 in baskets.

  They had also eagles most fierce,

  And hundreds of poles with birdlimes,

  And thousands of forks to catch rabbits;

  Dragnets like those used by bullheads,

  And lassos tossed by King Yama.

  They yelled and shrieked altogether,

  Causing confusion far and near.

  When the Great Sage saw those men swarming up his mountain, he became terribly an
gry. Making the magic sign with his fingers and reciting a spell, he drew in a breath facing the southwest and blew it out. At once a violent wind arose. Marvelous wind!

  It threw up dust and scattered dirt;

  It toppled trees and cut down forests.

  The ocean waves rose like mountains;

  They crashed fold upon fold on the shore.

  The cosmos grew dim and darkened;

  The sun and the moon lost their light.

  The pine trees, once shaken, roared like tigers;

  The bamboos, hit abruptly, sang like dragons.

  All Heaven’s pores let loose their angry breaths

  As rocks and sand flew, hurting one and all.

  The Great Sage called up this mighty wind that blew up and scattered those rock pieces in every direction. Pity those thousand-odd hunters and horses! This was what happened to every one of them:

  The rocks broke their dark heads to pieces;5

  Flying sand hurt all the winged horses.

  Lords and nobles confounded before the peak,

  Blood stained like cinnabar the earth.

  Fathers and sons could not go home.

  Could fine men to their houses return?

  Corpses fell to the dust and lay on the mountain,

  While rouged ladies at home waited.

  The poem says:

  Men killed, horses dead—how could they go home?

  Lost, lonely souls floundered like tangled hemp.

  Pity those strong and virile fighting men,

  Whose blood, both good and bad, did stain the sand!

  Lowering the direction of his cloud, the Great Sage clapped his hands and roared with laughter, saying, “Lucky! Lucky! Since I made submission to the Tang Monk and became a priest, he has been giving me this advice:

  ‘Do good a thousand days,

  But the good is still insufficient;

  Do evil for one day,

  And that evil is already excessive.’

  Some truth indeed! When I followed him and killed a few monsters, he would blame me for perpetrating violence. Today I came home and it was the merest trifle to finish off all these hunters.”

  He then shouted, “Little ones, come out!” When those monkeys saw that the violent wind had passed and heard the Great Sage calling, they all jumped out. “Go down to the south side of the mountain,” said the Great Sage, “and strip the dead hunters of their clothes. Bring them back home, wash away the bloodstains, and you all can wear them to ward off the cold. The corpses you can push into the deep mountain lake over there. Pull back here also the horses that are killed; their hides can be used to make boots, and their meat can be cured for us to enjoy slowly. Gather up the bows and arrows, the swords and spears, and you can use them for military drills again. And finally, bring me those banners of miscellaneous colors; I have use for them.”

  Every one of the monkeys obeyed these instructions. Pulling down the banners and washing them clean, the Great Sage then patched them together into a large banner of many colors, on which he wrote the following words in large letters: The Flower-Fruit Mountain Rebuilt, the Water-Curtain Cave Restored—Great Sage, Equal to Heaven. A flagpole was erected outside the cave to hang up the banner. Thereafter, he gathered together more fiends and beasts by the day, and he stored up all kinds of foodstuff. The word “monk” was never mentioned again. As he enjoyed wide friendship and great power, he had no trouble in borrowing some sweet, divine water from the Dragon Kings of the Four Oceans to wash his mountain and make it green again. He next planted elms and willows in front, pines and cedars in the back; peach, pear, date, and plum—he had them all. He then sett led down to enjoy life without a care, and we shall speak no more of him for the moment.

  We now tell you about the Tang Monk, who listened to Crafty Nature and banished the Monkey of the Mind. He mounted his horse to head for the West as Eight Rules led the way in front, while Sha Monk poled the luggage in the rear. After they passed the White Tiger Ridge, they came upon a large forest, full of vines and creepers, green pines and cedars. “Disciples,” said Tripitaka, “the mountain road is already rough and difficult to negotiate. And now we have a thick and dark pine forest. Do be careful. I fear that we may run into some fiends or monstrous beasts.” But look at Idiot! Rousing his energies, he told Sha Monk to take hold of the horse, while he himself used his muckrake to open up a path in front and led the Tang Monk directly into the pine forest. As they journeyed, the elder stopped the horse and said, “Eight Rules, I’m getting really hungry today. Where can you find me some vegetarian food to eat?” “Please dismount, Master,” said Eight Rules, “and let old Hog go find some for you.” The elder descended from his horse. Sha Monk put down his load and took out the alms bowl to hand over to Eight Rules. Eight Rules said, “I’m off!” “Where to?” asked the elder. “Never mind,” said Eight Rules. “Once I go, I will

  Drill ice for fire6 to find your maigre,

  And press snow for oil to beg your rice.”

  Look at him! He left the pine forest and walked toward the West for over ten miles, but he did not come upon even a single household. It was truly a place more inhabited by tigers and wolves than by humans. When Idiot became tired from walking, he thought to himself, “When Pilgrim was here, whatever that old priest wanted he got. Today, it’s my turn to serve, and it’s like what the proverb says:

  You know the cost of rice and firewood when you run a house;

  You realize your parents’ kindness when you bring up a child!

  Where in the world can I go to beg for food?” He walked some more and became rather drowsy. He thought to himself, “If I go back now and tell that old priest that there’s no place here for me to beg for vegetarian food even after traveling all this distance, he won’t believe me. I must find some means to while away another hour or so before I go back to answer him. Well, well! Let’s take a nap here in the grass.” Idiot indeed put his head in the grass and lay down. At the time, he thought that he would doze for awhile and then get up, but little did he realize how fatigued he was from all that walking. Once he lay down his head, he fell into a deep, snoring slumber.

  For the time being, we shall speak no more of Eight Rules asleep in this place. We tell you instead about the elder in the forest, who grew so restless and anxious that his ears became flushed and his eyes began to tic. He turned quickly and said to Sha Monk, “Why hasn’t Wuneng returned from his trip to beg for food?” “Master,” said Sha Monk, “don’t you understand? When he sees how many families there are in this region of the West who love to feed monks, he’s not going to worry about you, is he, especially when he has so large a stomach! He’s not going to come back until he’s completely filled!” “You are right,” said Tripitaka. “But if he is staying at some place just to satisfy his hankering for food, where are we going to meet him? It’s getting late, and this is no place to live. We better find some lodging.” “Don’t worry, Master,” said Sha Monk, “you sit here and let me find him.” “Yes, yes,” said Tripitaka, “it doesn’t matter whether there’s food or not. But it’s important for us to find a place to stay.” Grasping his precious staff, Sha Monk left the pine forest to search for Eight Rules.

  The elder, sitting alone in the forest, became so weary and fatigued that he had to force himself to summon enough energy to get up. Putting the luggage together in a pile and tying the horse to a tree, he took off his wide splint hat, stuck his priestly staff into the ground, and straightened his clerical robe in order to take a walk in this secluded forest just to rid himself of his depression. He looked at all the wild grass and untended flowers, but he did not hear any chattering of birds heading homeward. The forest, you see, was a place of tall grass and small paths. Because he was rather confused he soon lost his way. He had, to be sure, wanted to dispel his boredom in the first place, and to find Eight Rules and Sha Monk in the second. Little did he realize that they were proceeding westward, whereas he himself, after going in circles for awhile, was heading south. As
he emerged from the pine forest, he raised his head and saw all at once flashes of golden light and colorful mists ahead of him. He looked more carefully and found that it was a bejeweled pagoda, whose golden dome was gleaming in the rays of the setting sun. “This disciple truly has no affinity!” he said to himself. “When I left the Land of the East, I made a vow to burn incense in every temple, to worship Buddha when I saw an image of Buddha, and to sweep a pagoda if I came upon a pagoda. Isn’t that a golden pagoda that is so brilliant over there? Why didn’t I take this road before? Beneath the pagoda there must be a temple, inside of which there must also be a monastery. Let me walk over there. It’s all right, I suppose, to leave the white horse and the luggage here since there is no one passing by. If there’s any space there, I’ll wait till my disciples return and we can all ask for lodging for the night.”

  Alas, the time of that elder’s misfortune has indeed arrived! Look at him! He strode forward and went up to the side of the pagoda. There he saw

  Boulders ten thousand feet tall;

  A large bluff reaching the green sky:

  Its roots joining the thick earth,

  Its peaks sticking into Heaven.

  Several thousand trees of all kinds on both sides;

  A hundred miles of snarled creepers front and back.

  Bright flowers on grass tips, the wind had its shadows.

  In flowing water’s parted clouds the moon had no root.7

  Fallen logs rested in deep streams;

  Dried tendrils entangled bare summits.

  Beneath a stone bridge

  Flowed a bubbling clear stream;

  On top of a terrace

  Grew flourlike white blossoms.

  When seen from afar it seemed the Paradise of Three Isles;

  When you drew near it appeared like the lovely Penglai.

  Purple bamboos and scented pines enclosed the mountain brook;

  Crows, magpies, and monkeys cut through the rugged ridge.

  Outside a cave

  There were herds of wild beasts coming and going;

  In the woods

  There were flocks of birds leaving or returning.