to woman and money, had to become a merchant, a dice-gambler,
a drinker, and a greedy person, until the priest and
Samana in him was dead. Therefore, he had to
continue bearing these ugly years, bearing the disgust,
the teachings, the pointlessness of a dreary and wasted
life up to the end, up to bitter despair, until Siddhartha
the lustful, Siddhartha the greedy could also die.
He had died, a new Siddhartha had woken up from the
sleep. He would also grow old, he would also
eventually have to die, mortal was Siddhartha, mortal
was every physical form. But today he was young,
was a child, the new Siddhartha, and was full of joy.
He thought these thoughts, listened with a smile to
his stomach, listened gratefully to a buzzing bee.
Cheerfully, he looked into the rushing river, never
before he had like a water so well as this one, never
before he had perceived the voice and the parable of
the moving water thus strongly and beautifully.
It seemed to him, as if the river had something special
to tell him, something he did not know yet, which
was still awaiting him. In this river, Siddhartha
had intended to drown himself, in it the old, tired,
desperate Siddhartha had drowned today. But
the new Siddhartha felt a deep love for this rushing
water, and decided for himself, not to leave it very
soon.
THE FERRYMAN
By this river I want to stay, thought Siddhartha,
it is the same which I have crossed a long time ago
on my way to the childlike people, a friendly ferryman
had guided me then, he is the one I want to go to,
starting out from his hut, my path had led me at that
time into a new life, which had now grown old and
is dead—my present path, my present new
life, shall also take its start there!
Tenderly, he looked into the rushing water, into the
transparent green, into the crystal lines of its drawing,
so rich in secrets. Bright pearls he saw rising
from the deep, quiet bubbles of air floating on the
reflecting surface, the blue of the sky being depicted
in it. With a thousand eyes, the river looked
at him, with green ones, with white ones, with crystal
ones, with sky-blue ones. How did he love this
water, how did it delight him, how grateful was he
to it! In his heart he heard the voice talking,
which was newly awaking, and it told him: Love
this water! Stay near it! Learn from it!
Oh yes, he wanted to learn from it, he wanted to
listen to it. He who would understand this water
and its secrets, so it seemed to him, would also understand
many other things, many secrets, all secrets.
But out of all secrets of the river, he today only
saw one, this one touched his soul. He saw:
this water ran and ran, incessantly it ran, and was
nevertheless always there, was always at all times
the same and yet new in every moment! Great
be he who would grasp this, understand this!
He understood and grasped it not, only felt some idea
of it stirring, a distant memory, divine voices.
