Siddhartha

helm Gundert, my

MA

han a fleeting, deceptive veil before his eyes, looked upon in distrust, destined to be penetrated and destroyed by thought, since it was not the essential existence, since this essence lay beyond, on the other side of, the visible. But now, his liberated eyes stayed on this side, he saw and became aware of the visible, sought to be at home in this world, did not search for the true essence, did not aim at a world beyond. Beautiful was this world, looking at it thus, without searching, thus simply, thus childlike. Beautiful were the moon and the stars, beautiful was the stream and the banks, the forest and the rocks, the goat and the gold-beetle, the flower and the butterfly. Beautiful and lovely it was, thus to walk through the world, thus childlike, thus awoken, thus open to what is near, thus without distrust. Differently

t been with it. Now he was with it, he was part of it. Light and

was Atman, in its essence bearing the same eternal characteristics as Brahman. But never, he had really found this self, because he had wanted to capture it in the net of thought. With the body definitely not being the self, and not the spectacle of the senses, so it also was not the thought, not the rational mind, not the learned wisdom, not the learned ability to draw conclusions and to develop previous thoughts in to new ones. No, this world of thought was also still on this side, and nothing could be achieved by killing the random self of the senses, if the random self of thoughts and learned knowledge was fattened on the other hand. Both, the thoughts as well as the senses, were pretty things, the ultimate meaning was hidden behind both of them, both had to be listened to, both had to be played with

his arms around him, and as he was pulling him close to his chest and kissed him, it was not Govinda any more, but a woman, and a full breast popped out of the woman's dress, at which Siddhartha lay and drank, sweetly and strongly tasted the milk from this breast. It tasted of woman and

m across the river. The ferryman got him across the river on his bambo

ul river," he said

anything. Often I have listened to it, often I have looked into its eye

e river. "I have no gift I could give you for your hospitality, my dear, and also no

any payment from you and no gift which would be the custom

o?" asked Siddh

back! You too, Samana, will come back. Now farewell! Let your friendshi

he thought with a smile, "all I meet on my path are like Govinda. All are thankful, though they are the ones who would have a rig

hite in her eyes glistening. He called out a blessing to her, as it is the custom among travellers, and asked how far he still had to go to reach the large city. Then she got up and came to him, beautifully her wet mouth was shimmering in her young face. She exchanged humorous banter with him, asked whether he had eaten already, 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. While talking, she pu

or her. And in this moment he heard, shuddering with awe, the voice if his innermost self, and this voice said No. Then, all charms disappeared from the young woman's smiling face, he no longer saw a

be among people. For a long time, he had lived in the forests, and the straw hut of the ferryman,

y. Siddhartha stopped at the entrance to the pleasure-garden and watched the parade, saw the servants, the maids, the baskets, saw the sedan-chair and saw the lady in it. Under black hair, which made to tower high on her head, he saw a very fair, very delicate, very smart face

again, he looked at the fair, charming face, read for a moment in the smart eyes with the high arcs above, breathed in a slight fragra

awn into the grove, but he thought about it, and only now he became aware of how the servant

c and beggar. I must not remain like this, I will not

e name of the woman, and was told that this was the grove of Kamala, the fam

d the city. Now

stant, whom he had seen working in the shade of an arch in a building, whom he found again praying in a temple of Vishnu, whom he told about stories of Vishnu and the Lakshmi. Among the boats by the river, he slept this night

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. After a while, the servant retur

ing out there yesterday, g

already seen and gr

wear a beard, and long hai

rs. But now, I have left that path and came into this city, and the first one I met, even before I had entered the city, was you. To say this, I have come to you, oh Kamala! You ar

eacocks' feathers. And asked: "And only to

isplease you, Kamala, I would like to ask you to be my friend and teacher, for

amala laug

a Samana came to me with long hair and an old, torn loin-cloth! Many young men come to me, and there are also sons of Brahmans among them, but they come in beaut

hoes, money in my pouch. You shall know, Siddhartha has set harder goals for himself than such trifles, and he has reached them. How shouldn't I reach that goal, which I have set for myself yesterday: to be your friend and to learn the joys of love from you! You

e must have, pretty clothes, and shoes, pretty shoes, and lots of money in his pouch, a

uth is like a freshly cracked fig, Kamala. My mouth is red and fresh as well, it will be a suitable match for yours, you'll see

upid Samana from the forest, who is coming from th

aid of anything. He could force you, beautiful

g to give. Like this it is, precisely like this it is also with Kamala and with the pleasures of love. Beautiful and red is Kamala's mouth, but just try to kiss it against Kamala's will, and you will not obtain a single drop of sweetness from it, which knows how to give so many sweet things! You are learning easi

ot lose a single drop of sweetness from your mouth, nor you from mine! So it is settled: Siddhartha will return, once he'l

ive an advice to a poor, ignorant Samana, w

e I should go to, that I'll find

ed and ask for money, clothes, and shoes in return. There is no othe

. I can wait

ing e

write poetry. Would you like

'll like your poem. Wh

e had thought about it fo

na. Deeply, seeing the lotus's blossom, Bowed that man, and smiling Kamala thanked. More lov

er hands, so that the g

Samana, and truly, I'm losing nothing

ha felt how she taught him, how wise she was, how she controlled him, rejected him, lured him, and how after this first one there was to be a long, a well ordered, well tested sequence of kisses, everyone different from the oth

pieces of gold for them. But it will be difficult for you to earn thus much money wit

to kiss, Kamala!" s

racelets, and all beautiful things. But what will become of you? Aren

not want to sing them any more. I also know magic spells, but I

upted him. "You're ab

do this. Many pe

good that you're able to read and write, very good.

unning in and whispered a mes

and get yourself away, Siddhartha, nobody may see you

im, Siddhartha found himself being dragged away by the maid, brought into a garden-house avoiding the direct path, being given upper g

ently, he returned to the city, carrying the rolled up garments under his arm. At the inn, where travellers stay, he positioned himself by the door, with

y more, it was no longer becoming to him to beg. He g

ult, toilsome, and ultimately hopeless, when I was still a Samana. Now, everything is easy, easy like that lessons in kissing, whi

house in the city long before, th

nto his service. Be smart, brown Samana. I had others tell him about you. Be polite towards him, he is very powerful. But don't be too modest! I do not want you to become

out that he had not eaten anything yesterday and toda

arted, "I'm opening one door after anothe

u'll see. You'll see that the stupid Samanas are learning and able to do many pretty things in the forest, which the likes of you aren't capable of. The day before

would you be without me? What would y

It was my resolution to learn love from this most beautiful woman. From that moment on when I had made this resolution, I also k

I hadn't be

ings of the world like a rock through water, without doing anything, without stirring; he is drawn, he lets himself fall. His goal attracts him, because he doesn't let anything enter his soul which might oppose the goal. This is what Siddhartha has learned among the Samanas. Thi

e loved his voice, she lov

it is also like this: that Siddhartha is a handsome man, that his glanc

e this way, my teacher; that my glance shall please you, that always