by Unknown
And the lily lantern
Hang high on the tower.
The green-lion lantern
And the white-elephant lantern
Frolic high by the awnings.
The little-lamb lantern
And the rabbit lantern
Sparkle beneath the eaves.
The hawk lantern
And the phoenix lantern
Are joined side by side.
The tiger lantern
And the horse lantern
Walk and run together.
The divine-crane lantern
And the white-deer lantern,
These Longevity Star rides on.
The goldfish lantern
And the long-whale lantern,
These Li Bo will sit on.
The scorpaenid-hump lantern—
A congregation of immortals.
A revolving-horse lantern—
Where generals do battle.
A thousand households of glittering towers;
Many miles of a world of cloud and smoke.
Over there
Clippety-clop come the jade saddles flying;
Over here
The rumbling wheels of scented chariots pass by.
Look at those in red-trimmed towers:
Leaning on the rails
Behind the screens
Shoulder to shoulder
Pairs and pairs of beauties eager for pleasure.
Or those by the bridge o’er green waters:
Noisily cavorting
All bundled in silk
Besotted and soused
In loud guffaws
Two by two the tourists play in gay garments.
Flutes and drums resound in the whole city;
Pipes and songs rend the air throughout the night.
We have also a testimonial poem, which says:
From fields of brocade comes the lotus song.
To this peaceful region flocks a great throng.
With bright lights and moon on this fifteenth eve,
Timely rain and wind the year will receive.
Since this was precisely the time the nocturnal curfew was to be lifted, countless people mingled and milled about the place. Some were dancing; some were walking on stilts; there were people disguised as ghosts and others riding on elephants—a bunch here and a cluster there. You could hardly watch them all.
When the Tang Monk and the other priests finally made their way to the Golden-Lamp Bridge, they came upon three lamps with bases the size of cisterns. The coverings on top were actually two artificial towered edifices knit in the most elegant and delicate fashion with fine gold threads. Suspended inside the edifices were thin pieces of glass. The light of these lamps could rival the moon’s, while their oil emitted powerful aromas.
The Tang Monk turned to ask the priests, “What sort of oil do these lamps use? Why does it have such a powerful, strange fragrance?”
“I should tell you, Venerable Master,” replied one of the priests, “about the district behind our prefecture, which is called Compassionate-Heaven. This district covers some two hundred and forty square miles. Supporting the annual land taxes of this district are two hundred and forty so-called oil families. Mind you, the other taxes of the district are manageable, but the ones levied on these families are quite burdensome. Each household, in fact, must spend over two hundred taels of silver on the oil for these lamps, which is no ordinary oil. It is a specially blended fragrant oil, and each tael is worth two taels of silver. Each catty of oil thus would cost thirty-six taels of silver. The cistern of each of those three lamps holds up to five hundred catties, so three lamps would require one thousand and five hundred catties of oil. The fuel itself, therefore, would cost forty-eight thousand taels of silver. Other miscellaneous expenses would push the total sum to over fifty thousand. The lamps, however, can only last three nights.”
“How could you burn up so much oil in just three nights?” asked Pilgrim.
The priest answered, “There are forty-nine large wicks in each of the cisterns. They are made of wick-straw tied together and wrapped in fine cotton. Each wick is actually about as thick as a chicken egg, but they can last only through this night. After Father Buddha has revealed himself, the oil will have disappeared by tomorrow evening and the lamps will go dim.”
“It must be,” giggled Eight Rules, from the side, “that Father Buddha takes away even the oil!”
“Exactly!” replied the priest. “This has been the belief handed down from antiquity by the people of the entire city. Because the oil dries up, people all say that the Buddhist Patriarch himself has put away the lamps, and that ensures a rich harvest of the five grains. If, however, there is a year when the oil does not dry up, then there will be droughts or poor harvests or wind and rain out of season. That is the reason why all the families feel compelled to make these sacrifices.”
As they spoke, the howl of wind could suddenly be heard up in the sky, so terrifying the lamp spectators that they all scattered. The priests, too, found it difficult to stand on their feet. “Venerable Master,” they said, “let’s go back. The wind has arrived. It must be Father Buddha’s auspicious descent, coming here to watch the lamps.”
“How do you know it’s Buddha coming to watch the lamps?” asked the Tang Monk.
“It’s like this every year,” replied one of the monks. “Hardly past the hour of the third watch the wind arrives. Knowing that it is the auspicious descent of the various Buddhas, people all get out of the way.”
“This disciple,” said the Tang Monk, “happens to be a person who thinks of Buddha, who chants the name of Buddha, and who worships Buddha. If there are indeed Buddhas making their descent on this fine occasion, I will certainly pay them homage. Even a small gesture is desirable.”
The priests begged in vain for him to leave. In a little while, three figures of Buddha indeed appeared in the wind, coming toward the lamps. The Tang Monk was so astonished that he rushed up to the top of the bridge and fell on his knees to bow to them. Hurrying forward to try to pull him up, Pilgrim shouted, “Master, these are not good people! They have to be monstrous deviates!” Hardly had he finished speaking than the lamp light suddenly grew dim. With a loud whoosh, they scooped up the Tang Monk and left astride the wind. Alas! We do not know
Of which mountain or cave are these real fiends,
False Buddhas who for years have watched the gold lamps.
So terrified were Eight Rules and Sha Monk that they searched and hollered left and right.
“Brothers!” Pilgrim cried. “No need to call for Master at this place. His extreme pleasure has turned to grief, and Master has been abducted by monster-spirits.”
“Holy Father!” said those few frightened monks. “How could you tell that monster-spirits abducted him?”
With a chuckle, Pilgrim said, “All of you are a bunch of mortals. You have no perception all these years, for you were deluded by those monstrous deviates. All you thought of were true Buddhas making their auspicious descent to enjoy these offerings of the lamps. Just now when the wind passed by, those apparitions of Buddha were actually three monster-spirits. Unable to recognize them either, my master dashed to the top of the bridge and immediately bowed down. They managed to dim the lights, took away the oil with some vessels, and even abducted our master. I was a bit slow in getting up there, and that’s why the three of them could escape by changing into the wind.”
“Elder Brother,” said Sha Monk, “what are we going to do, then?”
“No need for hesitation,” replied Pilgrim. “The two of you go back to the temple with the rest of them to guard our horse and luggage. Let old Monkey make use of this wind and track them down.”
Dear Great Sage! Swiftly mounting the cloud somersault, he rose to midair and, catching a whiff of putrid odor from that wind, sped toward the northeast. He chased it till dawn, and all at once the wind died down. Then he came upon a huge mountain that appeared most treacherous and truly rug
ged. Marvelous mountain!
Canyons in layers,
And torrents tortuous.
From sheer cliffs hang vines and creepers;
On hollow heights stand cypress and pine.
The cranes cackle in morning mist
And geese call from the clouds of dawn.
Tall and erect like halberds are the peaks;
Jagged and rough huge boulders pile up.
The summit soars ten thousand feet;
The peak rises in a thousand turns.
Conscious of spring, wild woods and flowers bloom;
Moved by the sights, nightjars and orioles sing.
It may seem lofty and grand,
It’s in truth a precipice
That’s bizarre, rugged, treacherous, and hard.
Stop and enjoy it, but no man’s in sight:
You hear only tigers and leopards growl.
Musk and white deer will wander as they please;
Jade hare and green wolves will come and go.
A deep brook flows out to a thousand miles,
Its eddies gurgling as they strike the rocks.
On the mountain ledge the Great Sage was searching for his way when he caught sight of four persons herding three goats down the western slope and shouting, “Begins Prosperity!” Blinking his fiery eyes with diamond pupils, the Great Sage stared more carefully and perceived that they were the Four Sentinels of Year, Month, Day, and Hour approaching in disguises.
Immediately whipping out his iron rod which, with one wave, attained the thickness of a rice bowl and a length of about twelve feet, the Great Sage leaped down from the ledge and shouted, “Where do you dirty sneaks think you are going?”
When the Four Sentinels saw that he had penetrated their disguises, they were so terrified that they shooed away the goats and changed back into their true forms. Stepping to the side of the road to make their bows, they said, “Great Sage, please forgive us!”
“Because I haven’t asked for your services for a long time,” said Pilgrim, “you think Old Monkey has become indulgent. Every one of you, in fact, has turned slothful, since you haven’t shown up once to present yourself to me. What have you got to say to that? Why aren’t you all giving secret protection to my master? Where are you off to?”
“Your master has backslid a little,” replied one of the Sentinels. “Because he has been indulging in pleasures at the Mercy Cloud Temple of the Gold-Level Prefecture, his extreme prosperity has produced negativity, and the fullness of his happiness has become grief. Now he has been captured by some monstrous deviates, but at least he has the Guardians of Monastery at his side to give him protection. We know that the Great Sage has been giving chase all through the night. Fearing that the Great Sage might not know his way in this mountain forest, we have come especially to make it known to you.”
“If you wanted to do that,” said Pilgrim, “why did you do it in such a secretive manner? Herding three goats and shouting this and that—what for?”
The Sentinel said, “We brought along these three goats in order to symbolize the saying, ‘With three yang begins prosperity.’9 That symbol should break up and dispel your master’s misfortune.”
Pilgrim was angrily threatening to beat them, but when he heard their intention, his anger turned to delight, and he decided to spare them. Putting away his rod, he said, “Is this the mountain where the monster-spirit lives?”
“Indeed, it is,” replied the Sentinel. “This is the Green Dragon Mountain, in which there is a Mysterious Flower Cave. Inside the cave are three monster-spirits: the eldest is named Great King Cold-Deterrent; the second, Great King Heat-Deterrent; and the third, Great King Dust-Deterrent. They have lived here for a thousand years. Since their youth they have been fond of eating that specially blended fragrant oil. When they became spirits in years past, they came here disguised as the images of Buddha to dupe the officials and people of the Gold-Level Prefecture into setting up these golden lamps and using that specially blended fragrant oil as fuel. By mid-month of the first month every year, they would assume the forms of Buddha to collect oil. When they saw your master this year, they recognized that he had the body of a sage monk and they abducted him into their cave. In no time they will want to cut off your master’s flesh and sauté it with that fragrant oil for food. You must work quickly to rescue him.”
On hearing this, Pilgrim dismissed the Four Sentinels and went past the mountain ledge to search for the cave. He had not gone more than a few miles when he came upon a huge boulder, beneath which was a stone house with two half-closed stone doors. By the side of the door was a stone tablet with these six words: Green Dragon Mountain, Mysterious Flower Cave. Not daring to walk straight in, Pilgrim stood still and called out, “Monstrous fiend, send my master out quickly!”
With a loud creak the doors were flung open and out ran several bullheaded spirits. Rather glumly and stupidly, they asked, “Who are you that you dare make all these noises here?”
“I’m the senior disciple of the sage monk, Tripitaka Tang,” replied Pilgrim, “who was sent by the Great Tang in the Land of the East to seek scriptures. We passed through the Gold-Level Prefecture, and while we were watching the lanterns, my master was kidnapped by your household’s demon chieftains. Return him early, and I’ll spare your lives! If you don’t, I’ll overturn your den and reduce you spirits to pus and blood!”
On hearing this, those little monsters hurried inside to say, “Great Kings, disaster! Disaster!” The three old monsters had brought the Tang Monk deep into the cave, where without any further interrogation they were ordering their subordinates to have him stripped and scrubbed clean by water pumped from the well. They were making plans, too, to cut him or dice him so that his flesh could be sautéed for food with that specially blended fragrant oil. When they suddenly heard this announcement of disaster, Number One was astonished enough to ask why.
“In front of our main door,” replied one of the little monsters, “there is a monk with a hairy face and a thundergod beak. He claims that our Great Kings have abducted his master to this place and demands that he be sent out at once. Then he’ll spare our lives. But if we don’t do that, he will overturn our den and reduce us all to pus and blood.”
All alarmed by what they heard, the older monsters said, “We just caught this fellow, and we haven’t yet had a chance to question him about his name or where he came from. Little ones, put his clothes back on him and bring him over here for us to interrogate him. Who is he anyway, and where does he come from?”
The monsters rushed forward and untied the Tang Monk. After they had dressed him, they pushed him before the seats of the old monsters. Trembling all over, the Tang Monk knelt down and could only cry, “Great Kings, spare me! Please spare me!”
“Where did you come from, monk?” asked the three monster-spirits in unison. “When you saw the forms of Buddha, why did you not step aside? Why did you impede our cloudy path?”
As he kowtowed, the Tang Monk said, “This humble cleric is someone sent by the Throne of the Great Tang in the Land of the East, someone on his way to seek scriptures from the Buddhist Patriarch at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Kingdom of India. Because I went to the Mercy Cloud Temple at the Gold-Level Prefecture to beg for a meal, I was asked by the priests of that temple to stay through the Lantern Festival and enjoy the lights. When the Great Kings revealed themselves in the forms of Buddha on the Golden-Lamp Bridge, this humble cleric, who has only fleshly eyes and mortal frame, nonetheless has the desire to worship Buddha whenever he beholds his image. That is the reason why I impeded your cloudy path.”
“It is a long way from your Land of the East to this place,” said those monster-spirits. “How many people are there altogether in your entourage? Tell us quickly, and we’ll spare your life.”
“My secular name is Chen Xuanzang,” replied the Tang Monk, “and I have been raised a monk in the Gold Mountain Monastery since my youth. Later I was appointed a monk official by the Tan
g emperor at the Temple of Great Blessing. On account of prime minister Wei Zheng’s execution of an old dragon of the Jing River in his dream, the Tang emperor made a tour of Hades and then returned to life. To provide redemption for the lost souls of darkness, he convened the Grand Mass of Land and Water and graciously selected me as the chief priest in charge of the ceremony and the exposition of scriptures. It was at that time that the Bodhisattva Guanshiyin revealed herself to enlighten this humble cleric, announcing to us that there were three canons of true scriptures at the Great Thunderclap Monastery in the Western Heaven. These scriptures, she said, could provide deliverance for the deceased and enable them to ascend to Heaven. The Tang emperor therefore sent this humble cleric to fetch the scriptures. He bestowed on me the style, Tripitaka, and the surname of Tang. That’s why people all address me as Tripitaka Tang. I have three disciples. The first one’s surname is Sun, and his names are Wukong and Pilgrim. He is actually the converted Great Sage, Equal to Heaven.”
Greatly startled by the last name they heard, the monsters said, “Is this Great Sage, Equal to Heaven, the person who caused great disturbance in the Celestial Palace five hundred years ago?”
“Indeed, he is,” said the Tang Monk. “My second disciple has the surname of Zhu, and his given names are Wuneng and Eight Rules. He is the incarnation of the Marshal of Heavenly Reeds. My third disciple has the surname of Sha, and his given names are Wujing and Monk. He is the Curtain-Raising General who has descended to Earth.”
When they heard this, all three of those monster-kings were alarmed. “It’s a good thing we haven’t eaten him yet,” they said. “Little ones, let’s chain the Tang Monk in the rear. Let’s wait till we capture his three disciples so that we can eat them together.” Then they called up a herd of spirits, all mountain buffaloes, water buffaloes, and yellow buffaloes. Each grasping a weapon, they walked out of the front door where with a trumpet signal, they waved their banners and rolled the drums.
In full battle dress, the three monsters went out the door also and cried, “What person is bold enough to shout and yell in front of our door?” Half concealed upon the boulder, Pilgrim stared at them. The monster-spirits all had