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08 - Siddhartha - Hermann Hesse · Classic Adventure Books - Daily

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Speaker 1: Chapter eight. By the river, Sir Arthur walked through the forest,
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Speaker 1: was already far from the city, and knew nothing but
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Speaker 1: that one thing, that there was no going back for him,
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Speaker 1: that this life as he had lived it for many
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Speaker 1: years until now was over and done away with, and
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Speaker 1: that he had tasted all of it, sucked everything out
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Speaker 1: of it until he was disgusted with it. Dead was
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Speaker 1: the singing bird he had dreamt of. Dead was the
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Speaker 1: bird in his heart. Deeply he had been entangled in Sansara.
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Speaker 1: He had sucked up disgust and death from all sides
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Speaker 1: into his body, like a sponge that sucks up water
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Speaker 1: until it is full and full. He was full of
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Speaker 1: the feeling of being sick of it, full of misery,
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Speaker 1: full of death. There was nothing left in this world
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Speaker 1: which could have attracted him, given him joy, given him comfort. Passionately,
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Speaker 1: he wished to know nothing about himself any more, to
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Speaker 1: have rest, to be dead. If there was only a
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Speaker 1: lightning bolt to strike him dead, if there was only
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Speaker 1: a tiger to devour him, if there was only a wine,
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Speaker 1: a poison which could numb his senses, bring him forgetfulness
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Speaker 1: and sleep, and no awakening from that? Was there still
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Speaker 1: any kind of filth. He had not soiled himself with
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Speaker 1: a sin or foolish act. He had not committed a
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Speaker 1: dreariness of the soul. He had not brought upon himself.
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Speaker 1: Was it still at all possible to be alive? Was
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Speaker 1: it possible to breathe in again and again, to breathe out,
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Speaker 1: to feel hunger, to eat again, to sleep again, to
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Speaker 1: sleep with a woman again? Was this cycle not again
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Speaker 1: exhausted and brought to a conclusion for him? Sir Arthur
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Speaker 1: reached the large river in the forest, the same river
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Speaker 1: over which, a long time ago, when he had still
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Speaker 1: been a young man and came from the town of Gautama,
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Speaker 1: the ferryman had conducted him by this river. He stopped hesitatingly.
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Speaker 1: He stood at the bank. Tiredness and hunger had weakened him.
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Speaker 1: And whatever he should walk on, wherever to, to whichever goal, No,
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Speaker 1: there were no more goals. There was nothing left but
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Speaker 1: the deep, painful yearning to shake off this whole desolate dream,
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Speaker 1: to spit out this stale wine, to put an end
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Speaker 1: to this miserable and shameful life. A hang bent over
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Speaker 1: the bank of the river, a cocoanut tree. Sir Arthur
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Speaker 1: leaned against its trunk with his shoulder, embraced the trunk
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Speaker 1: with one arm, and looked down into the green water
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Speaker 1: which ran and ran under him. Looked down and found
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Speaker 1: himself to be entirely filled with the wish to go
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Speaker 1: and to drown in these waters. A frightening emptiness was
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Speaker 1: reflected back at him by the water, answering to the
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Speaker 1: terrible emptiness in his soul. Yes, he had reached the end.
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Speaker 1: There was nothing left for him except to annihilate himself,
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Speaker 1: except to smash the failure into which he had shaped
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Speaker 1: his life, to throw it away before the feet of
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Speaker 1: mockingly laughing gods. This was the great vomiting he had
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Speaker 1: longed for, death, the smashing to bits of the form
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Speaker 1: he hated. Let him be food for fishes, this dog,
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Speaker 1: said Arthur, this lunatic, this depraved and rotten body, this
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Speaker 1: weakened and abused soul. Let him be food for fishes
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Speaker 1: and crocodiles. Let him be chopped to bits by the demons.
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Speaker 1: With a distorted face, he stared into the water, saw
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Speaker 1: the reflection of his face, and spit at it. In
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Speaker 1: deep tiredness, he took his arm away from the trunk
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Speaker 1: of the tree and turned a bit in order to
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Speaker 1: let himself fall straight down, in order to finally drown.
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Speaker 1: With his eyes closed, he slipped towards death. Then, out
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Speaker 1: of remote areas of his soul, out of past times
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Speaker 1: of his now weary life, a sound stirred up. It
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Speaker 1: was a word, a syllable, which he, without thinking, with
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Speaker 1: a slurred voice, spoke to himself, the old word, which
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Speaker 1: is the beginning and the end of all prayers of
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Speaker 1: the Brahmans, the holy Olm, which roughly means that what
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Speaker 1: is perfect or the completion. And in the moment when
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Speaker 1: the sound of Olm touched Siddarthur's ear, his dormant spirit
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Speaker 1: suddenly woke up and realized the foolishness of his actions.
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Speaker 1: Sir Arthur was deeply shocked. So this was how things
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Speaker 1: were with him? So doomed was he, so much? Had
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Speaker 1: he lost his way and was forsaken by all knowledge?
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Speaker 1: That he had been able to seek death, That this wish,
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Speaker 1: this wish of a child, had been able to grow
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Speaker 1: up in him, to find rest by annihilating his body.
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Speaker 1: What all agony of these recent times, all sobering realizations,
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Speaker 1: all desperation, had not brought about. This was brought on
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Speaker 1: by this moment. When the Olm entered his consciousness, he
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Speaker 1: became aware of himself, in his misery and in his error, Olm.
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Speaker 1: He spoke to himself Olm, and again he knew about Brahman,
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Speaker 1: knew about the indestructibility of life, knew about all that
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Speaker 1: is divine, which he had forgotten. But this was only
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Speaker 1: a moment flash By the foot of the cocoanut tree,
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Speaker 1: Sir Arthur collapsed, struck down by tiredness, mumbling, Olm placed
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Speaker 1: his head on the root of the tree and fell
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Speaker 1: into a deep sleep. Deep was his sleep, and without dreams.
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Speaker 1: For a long time he had not known such a
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Speaker 1: sleep any more. When he woke up after many hours,
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Speaker 1: he felt as if ten years had passed. He heard
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Speaker 1: the water quietly flowing, did not know where he was
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Speaker 1: and who had brought him there. Opened his eyes, saw
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Speaker 1: with astonishment that there were trees and the sky above him,
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Speaker 1: and he remembered where he was and how he got there.
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Speaker 1: But it took him a long while for this, and
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Speaker 1: the past seemed to him as if it had been
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Speaker 1: covered by a veil. Infinitely distant, infinitely far away, infinitely meaningless.
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Speaker 1: He only knew that his previous life in the first
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Speaker 1: moment when he thought about it, this past life seemed
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Speaker 1: to him like a very old previous incarnation, like an
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Speaker 1: early pre birth of his present self. That this previous
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Speaker 1: life had been abandoned by him, that full of disgust
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Speaker 1: and wretchedness, he had even intended to throw his life away.
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Speaker 1: But that by a river under a cocoanut tree, he
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Speaker 1: has come to his senses the holy word Om on
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Speaker 1: his lips, that he had fallen asleep and had now
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Speaker 1: woken up, and was looking at the world as a
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Speaker 1: new man. Quietly, he spoke the word Om to himself,
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Speaker 1: speaking which he had fallen asleep. And it seemed to
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Speaker 1: him as if his entire long sleep had been nothing
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Speaker 1: but a long meditative recitation of Om, a thinking of Om,
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Speaker 1: a submergence and complete entering into Olm, into the nameless,
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Speaker 1: the perfected. What a wonderful sleep? Had this been? Never before?
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Speaker 1: By sleep? He had been thus refreshed, thus renewed, thus rejuvenated.
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Speaker 1: Perhaps he had really died, had drowned, and was reborn
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Speaker 1: in a new body. But no, he knew himself. He
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Speaker 1: knew his hand at his feet knew the place where
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Speaker 1: he lay, knew this self in his chest. This Saddarthur,
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Speaker 1: the eccentric, the weird one. But this Saiddartha was nevertheless
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Speaker 1: transform armed, was renewed, was strangely well rested, strangely awake, joyful,
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Speaker 1: and curious. Sadd Arthur straightened up. Then he saw a
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Speaker 1: person sitting opposite to him, an unknown man, a monk
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Speaker 1: in a yellow robe with a shaven head, sitting in
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Speaker 1: the position of pondering. He observed the man who had
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Speaker 1: neither hair on his head nor a beard, and he
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Speaker 1: had not observed him for long when he recognized this
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Speaker 1: monk as Govinda, the friend of his youth, Govinda, who
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Speaker 1: had taken his refuge with the exalted Buddha. Govinda had
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Speaker 1: aged he too, but still his face bore the same features,
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Speaker 1: expressed zeal, faithfulness, searching, timidness. But when Govinda, now sensing
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Speaker 1: his gaze, opened his eyes and looked at him, Saddarthur
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Speaker 1: saw that Govinda did not RECOGNI him. Govinda was happy
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Speaker 1: to find him awake. Apparently he had been sitting here
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Speaker 1: for a long time and had been waiting for him
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Speaker 1: to wake up, though he did not know him. I
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Speaker 1: have been sleeping, said Sir Arthur. However did you get
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Speaker 1: here you have been sleeping, answered Govinda. It is not
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Speaker 1: good to be sleeping in such places where snakes often
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Speaker 1: are and the animals of the forest have their paths. I, oh, sir,
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Speaker 1: am a follower of the Exalted Gautama, the Buddha, the
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Speaker 1: Sakya Mundi, and have been on a pilgrimage together with
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Speaker 1: several of us on this path. When I saw you
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Speaker 1: lying and sleeping in a place where it is dangerous
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Speaker 1: to sleep. Therefore, I sought to wake you up, oh sir,
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Speaker 1: And since I saw that your sleep was very deep,
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Speaker 1: I strayed behind from my group and sat with you.
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Speaker 1: And then so it seems I have fallen asleep myself,
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Speaker 1: I who wanted to guard your sleep badly, I have
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Speaker 1: served you. Tiredness has overwhelmed me. And now that you're awake,
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Speaker 1: let me go catch up with my brothers. I thank
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Speaker 1: you Somana for watching out over my sleep, spoke Sir Arthur,
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Speaker 1: your friendly you followers of the Exalted One. Now you
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Speaker 1: may go, Then I'm going, sir. May you, sir, always
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Speaker 1: be in good health. I thank you, Somana. Govinda made
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Speaker 1: the gesture of a salutation and said farewell. Farewell, Govinda,
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Speaker 1: said Sir Arthur. The monk stopped. Permit me to ask, Sir,
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Speaker 1: from where do you know my name? Now? Said Arthur smiled.
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Speaker 1: I know you, oh Govinda, from your father's hut, and
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Speaker 1: from the school of the Brahmans, and from the offerings,
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Speaker 1: and from our walk to the Somanas, and from that
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Speaker 1: hour when you took your refuge with the Exalted One
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Speaker 1: in the grove Jettavannah, your sir, Darthur, Govinda exclaimed loudly.
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Speaker 1: Now I'm recognizing you, and don't comprehend any more how
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Speaker 1: I couldn't recognize you right away. Be welcome, said Arthur.
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Speaker 1: My joy is great to see you again. It also
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Speaker 1: gives me joy to see you again. You've been the
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Speaker 1: guard of my sleep again. I thank you for this,
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Speaker 1: though I wouldn't have required any guard. Where are you
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Speaker 1: going to, oh friend, I am going nowhere. We monks
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Speaker 1: are always traveling, whenever it is not the rainy season.
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Speaker 1: We always move from one place to another, live a
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Speaker 1: calling to the rules of the teachings passed on to
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Speaker 1: us except alms move on. It is always like this.
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Speaker 1: But you, said Arthur, where are you going to quoth,
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Speaker 1: said Arthur. It is as it is with you. I
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Speaker 1: am going nowhere. I'm just traveling. I am on a pilgrimage.
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Speaker 1: Govinda spoke. You're saying you're on a pilgrimage, and I
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Speaker 1: believe in you. But forgive me, oh, said Arthur, you
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Speaker 1: do not look like a pilgrim. You're wearing a rich
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Speaker 1: man's garments. You're wearing the shoes of a distinguished gentleman.
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Speaker 1: And your hair and the fragrance of perfume is not
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Speaker 1: a pilgrim's hair, nor the hair of a somana. Right, So,
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Speaker 1: my dear you who observed, well, your keen eyes see everything.
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Speaker 1: But I haven't said to you that I was a Samana.
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Speaker 1: I said, I'm on a pilgrimage, and so it is.
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Speaker 1: I'm on a pilgrimage. You're on a pilgrimage, said Govinda.
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Speaker 1: But few would go on a pilgrimage in such clothes,
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Speaker 1: few in such shoes, few with such hair. Never I
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Speaker 1: have met such a pilgrim, being a pilgrim myself for
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Speaker 1: many years, I believe you, my dear Govinda, But now
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Speaker 1: to day you've met a pilgrim just like this, wearing
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Speaker 1: such shoes, such a garment, Remember, my dear, Not eternal
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Speaker 1: is the world of appearances, not eternal anything but eternal
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Speaker 1: our our garments, and the style of our hair, and
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Speaker 1: our hair, and our bodies themselves. I'm wearing a rich
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Speaker 1: man's clothes. You've seen this, quite right. I'm wearing them
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Speaker 1: because I have been a rich man. And I'm wearing
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Speaker 1: my hair like the worldly and lustful people, because I
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Speaker 1: have been one of them. And now, said Arthur, what
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Speaker 1: are you now? I don't know it. I don't know it,
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Speaker 1: just like you, I'm traveling. I was a rich man
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Speaker 1: and am no rich man any more. And what i'll
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Speaker 1: be to morrow, I don't know. You've lost your riches,
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Speaker 1: I've lost them, or they me they somehow happened to
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Speaker 1: slip away from me. The wheel of physical manifestations is
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Speaker 1: turning quickly, Govinda. Where is Saddarthur the Brahman. Where is
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Speaker 1: Siddartha the Samana? Where is Saddartha the rich Man? None?
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Speaker 1: Eternal things change quickly, Govinda, you know it. Govinda looked
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Speaker 1: at the friend of his youth for a long time
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Speaker 1: with doubt in his eyes. After that, he gave him
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Speaker 1: the salutation which one would use on a gentleman, and
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Speaker 1: went on his way with a smiling face. Saddarthur watched
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Speaker 1: him leave. He loved him still, this faithful man, this
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Speaker 1: fearful man. And how could he not have loved everybody
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Speaker 1: and everything in this moment, in the glorious hour after
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Speaker 1: his wonderful sleep, filled with the enchantment which had happened
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Speaker 1: inside of him in his sleep, and by means of
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Speaker 1: the olm, was this very thing that he loved everything,
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Speaker 1: that he was full of joyful love for everything he saw.
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Speaker 1: And it was this very thing. So it seemed to
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Speaker 1: him now, which had been his sickness before, that he
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Speaker 1: was not able to love anybody or anything. With a
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Speaker 1: smiling face, Sir Arthur watched the leaving monk. The sleep
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Speaker 1: had strengthened him much, but hunger gave him much pain.
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Speaker 1: For now he had not eaten for two days, and
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Speaker 1: the times were long past when he had been tough
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Speaker 1: against hunger. With sadness, and yet also with a smile,
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Speaker 1: he thought of that time in those days, so he
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Speaker 1: remembered he had boasted of three things to Kamala, had
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Speaker 1: been able to do three noble and undefeatable feats fasting, waiting, thinking.
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Speaker 1: These had been his possession, his power and strength, his
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Speaker 1: solid staff. In the busy, laborious years of his youth.
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Speaker 1: He had learned these three feats, nothing else, and now
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Speaker 1: they had abandoned him. None of them was his any more,
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Speaker 1: neither fasting nor waiting, nor thinking for the most wretched things.
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Speaker 1: He had given them up for what fades most quickly,
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Speaker 1: for sensual lust, for the good life, for riches. His
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Speaker 1: life had indeed been strange, and now so it seemed,
17:42
Speaker 1: now he had really become a childlike person. Sir Arthur
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Speaker 1: thought about his situation. Thinking was hard on him. He
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Speaker 1: did not really feel like it, but he forced himself. Now,
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Speaker 1: he thought, since all these most easily perishing things have
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Speaker 1: slipped from me again. Now I'm standing here under the
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Speaker 1: sun again, just as I have been standing here a
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Speaker 1: little child. Nothing is mine. I have no abilities, there
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Speaker 1: is nothing I could bring about. I have learned nothing.
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Speaker 1: How wondrous is this now that I am no longer young,
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Speaker 1: that my hair is already half gray, that my strength
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Speaker 1: is fading. Now I'm starting again at the beginning, and
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Speaker 1: as a child again. He had to smile. Yes, his
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Speaker 1: fate had been strange, things were going downhill with him,
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Speaker 1: and now he was again facing the world, void and
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Speaker 1: naked and stupid. But he could not feel sad about this. No,
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Speaker 1: he even felt a great urge to laugh, to laugh
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Speaker 1: about himself, to laugh about this strange, foolish world. Going
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Speaker 1: downhill with you, he said to himself, and laughed about it.
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Speaker 1: And as he was saying it, he happened to glance
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Speaker 1: at the river, and he also saw the river was
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Speaker 1: going downhill. All was moving on downhill, and singing and
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Speaker 1: being happy through it all. He liked this well. Kindly,
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Speaker 1: he smiled at the river. Was this not the river
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Speaker 1: in which he had intended to drown himself in past
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Speaker 1: times a hundred years ago? Or had he dreamed? This? Wondrous?
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Speaker 1: Indeed was my life? So he thought, wondrous detours? Has
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Speaker 1: it taken? As a boy? I had only to do
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Speaker 1: with gods and offerings? As a youth, I had only
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Speaker 1: to do with asceticism, with thinking, a meditation was searching
19:51
Speaker 1: for Brahman worshiped the eternal in the Utman. But as
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Speaker 1: a young man I followed the penitents, lived in the forest,
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Speaker 1: suffered of heat and frost, learned to hunger, taught my
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Speaker 1: body to become dead. Wonderfully. Soon afterwards, insight came towards
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Speaker 1: me in the form of the Great Buddha's teachings. I
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Speaker 1: felt the knowledge of the oneness of the world circling
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Speaker 1: in me like my own blood. But I also had
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Speaker 1: to leave Buddha and the great knowledge. I went and
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Speaker 1: learned the art of love with Kamala, learned trading with Kamaswami,
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Speaker 1: piled up money, wasted money, learned to love my stomach,
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Speaker 1: learned to please my senses. I had to spend many
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Speaker 1: years losing my spirit, to unlearn thinking again, to forget
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Speaker 1: the oneness. Isn't it just as if I had turned
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Speaker 1: slowly and on a long detour from a man into
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Speaker 1: a child, from a thinker into a childlike person? And
20:59
Speaker 1: yet yet this path has been very good, and yet
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Speaker 1: the bird in my chest has not died. But what
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Speaker 1: a path has this been. I had to pass through
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Speaker 1: so much stupidity, through so much vices, through so many errors,
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Speaker 1: through so much disgust and disappointments and woe, just to
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Speaker 1: become a child again and to be able to start over.
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Speaker 1: But it was right, So my heart says yes to it.
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Speaker 1: My eyes smile to it. I've had to experience despair.
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Speaker 1: I've had to sink down to the most foolish one
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Speaker 1: of all thoughts, to the thought of suicide. In order
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Speaker 1: to be able to experience divine grace, to hear Om again,
21:47
Speaker 1: to be able to sleep properly and to awake properly again,
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Speaker 1: I had to become a fool to find utman in
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Speaker 1: me again. I had to sin to be able to
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Speaker 1: live again. Where else might my path lead me to?
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Speaker 1: It is foolish, this path. It moves in loops. Perhaps
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Speaker 1: it is going around in a circle. Let it go
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Speaker 1: as it likes. I want to take it wonderfully. He
22:17
Speaker 1: felt joy rolling like waves in his chest. Where ever, from,
22:23
Speaker 1: he asked his heart, Where did you get this happiness?
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Speaker 1: Might it come from that long good sleep which has
22:31
Speaker 1: done me so good? Or from the word Om which
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Speaker 1: I said, Or from the fact that I have escaped,
22:38
Speaker 1: that I have completely fled, that I am finally free
22:42
Speaker 1: again and am standing like a child under the sky. Oh,
22:47
Speaker 1: how good it is to have fled, to have become free.
22:52
Speaker 1: How clean and beautiful is the air here? How good
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Speaker 1: to breathe there? Where I ran away from there, everything
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Speaker 1: smelled of ointment, of spices, of wine, of excess of sloth.
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Speaker 1: How did I hate this world of the rich, of
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Speaker 1: those who revel in fine food, of the gamblers? How
23:16
Speaker 1: did I hate myself for staying in this terrible world
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Speaker 1: for so long? How did I hate myself? Have deprived, poisoned,
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Speaker 1: tortured myself, have made myself old and evil? No, never
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Speaker 1: again I will, as I used to like doing so much,
23:37
Speaker 1: delude myself into thinking that Siddarthur was wise. But this
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Speaker 1: one thing I have done well. This I like. This,
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Speaker 1: I must praise. But there is now an end to
23:51
Speaker 1: that hatred against myself, to that foolish and dreary life.
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Speaker 1: I praise you, said Arthur, after so many years of foolishness,
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Speaker 1: you have once again had an idea, have done something,
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Speaker 1: have heard the bird in your chest singing, and have
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Speaker 1: followed it. Thus he praised himself, found joy in himself,
24:17
Speaker 1: listened curiously to his stomach, which was rumbling with hunger.
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Speaker 1: He had now so he felt, in those recent times
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Speaker 1: and days, completely tasted and spit out, devoured up to
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Speaker 1: the point of desperation and death. A piece of suffering,
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Speaker 1: a piece of misery like this, It was good for
24:40
Speaker 1: much longer. He could have stayed with Kamaswami, made money,
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Speaker 1: wasted money, filled his stomach, and let his soul die
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Speaker 1: of thirst for much longer. He could have lived in
24:53
Speaker 1: this soft, well upholstered hell if this had not happened,
24:58
Speaker 1: the moment of complete hopelessness and despair, that most extreme moment,
25:04
Speaker 1: when he hung over the rushing waters and was ready
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Speaker 1: to destroy himself. That he had felt this despair, this
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Speaker 1: deep disgust, that he had not succumbed to it. That
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Speaker 1: the bird, the joyful source and voice in him, was
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Speaker 1: still alive after all. This was why he felt joy,
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Speaker 1: This was why he laughed, This was why his face
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Speaker 1: was smiling brightly under his hair, which had turned gray.
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Speaker 1: It is good, he thought, to get a taste of
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Speaker 1: everything for oneself, which one needs to know. That lust
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Speaker 1: for the world and riches do not belong to the
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Speaker 1: good things. I have already learned as a child. I
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Speaker 1: have known it for a long time, but I have
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Speaker 1: experienced only now, and now I know it. Don't just
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Speaker 1: know it in my memory, but in my eyes, in
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Speaker 1: my art, in my stomach. Good for me to know this.
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Speaker 1: For a long time, he pondered his transformation listened to
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Speaker 1: the bird as it sang for joy. Had not this
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Speaker 1: bird died in him? Had he not felt his death? No,
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Speaker 1: something else from within him had died, something which already,
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Speaker 1: for a long time had yearned to die. Was it
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Speaker 1: not this what he intended to kill in his ardent
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Speaker 1: years as a penitent? Was it not his self, his small,
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Speaker 1: frightened and proud self he had wrestled with for so
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Speaker 1: many years, which had defeated him again and again, which
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Speaker 1: was back again after every killing prohibited joy felt fear.
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Speaker 1: Was it not this which to day had finally come
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Speaker 1: to its death here in the forest, by this lovely river.
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Speaker 1: Was not due to this death that he was now
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Speaker 1: like a child, so full of trust, so without fear,
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Speaker 1: so full of joy. Now Saddartha also got some idea
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Speaker 1: of why he had fought this self in vain as
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Speaker 1: a Brahman, as a penitent. Too much knowledge had held
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Speaker 1: him back, too many holy verses, too many sacrificial rules,
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Speaker 1: too much self castigation, so much doing and striving for
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Speaker 1: that goal. Full of arrogance he had been. All was
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Speaker 1: the smartest, always working the most, always one step ahead
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Speaker 1: of all others. All was the knowing and spiritual one
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Speaker 1: all was the priest or wise one into being a priest,
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Speaker 1: into this arrogance, into this spirituality his self had retreated.
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Speaker 1: There it sat firmly and grew. While he thought he
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Speaker 1: would kill it by fasting and penance. Now he saw it,
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Speaker 1: and saw the secret voice had been right, that no
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Speaker 1: teacher would ever have been able to bring about his salvation.
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Speaker 1: Therefore he had to go out into the world, lose
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Speaker 1: himself to lust and power to women and money, had
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Speaker 1: to become a merchant, a dice gambler, a drinker, and
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Speaker 1: a greedy person until the priest and Samana in him
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Speaker 1: was dead. Therefore he had to continue bearing these ugly years,
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Speaker 1: bearing the disgust, the teachings, the pointlessness of a dreary
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Speaker 1: and wasted life, up to the end, up to bitter despair,
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Speaker 1: until said Darthur, the lustful, Sir, Darthur the greedy, could
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Speaker 1: also die. He had died, a new sir Arthur had
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Speaker 1: woken up from the sleep. He would also grow old.
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Speaker 1: He would also eventually have to die. Mortal, was said Arthur.
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Speaker 1: Mortal was every physical form. But today he was young,
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Speaker 1: was a child the new, said Arthur, and was full
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Speaker 1: of joy. He thought these thoughts, listened with a smile
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Speaker 1: to his stomach, listened gratefully to a buzzing bee. Cheerfully,
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Speaker 1: he looked into the rushing river. Never before he had
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Speaker 1: liked a water so well as this one. Never before
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Speaker 1: he had perceived the voice and the parable of the
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Speaker 1: moving water thus strongly and beautifully. It seemed to him
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Speaker 1: as if the river had something special to tell him,
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Speaker 1: something he did not know yet, which was still awaiting him.
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Speaker 1: In this river. Saddartha had intended to drown himself in it.
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Speaker 1: The old, tired, desperate Saddarthur had dress to day. But
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Speaker 1: the new said Arthur felt a deep love for this
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Speaker 1: rushing water, and decided for himself not to leave it
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Speaker 1: very soon. End of chapter eight