Siddhartha: An Indian Tale by Hermann Hesse
In the shade of the house, in the sunshine of the riverbank, in the shade of the forest, in the shade of the fig tree, is where Siddhartha grew up, the handsome son of the Brahman, the young falcon, together with his friend Govinda, son of a Brahman. The sun…
In the evening of this day, they caught up with the ascetics, the skinny Samanas, and offered them their companionship and obedience. They were accepted. Siddhartha gave his garments to a poor Brahman in the street. He wore nothing more than the loincloth, and the earth-colored, unsown cloak. He ate…
In the town of Savathi, every child knew the name of the exalted Buddha, and every house was prepared to fill the alms-dish of Gotama’s disciples, the silently begging ones. Near the town was Gotama’s favorite place to stay, the grove of Jetavana, which the rich merchant Anathapindika, an obedient…
When Siddhartha left the grove, where the Buddha, the perfected one, stayed behind, where Govinda stayed behind, then he felt that in this grove, his past life also stayed behind and parted from him. He pondered about this sensation, which filled him completely, as he was slowly walking along. He…
Siddhartha learned something new on every step of his path, for the world was transformed, and his heart was enchanted. He saw the sun rising over the mountains with their forests, and setting over the distant beach with its palm-trees. At night, he saw the stars in the sky in…
Siddhartha went to Kamaswami the merchant, he was directed into a rich house, servants led him between precious carpets into a chamber, where he awaited the master of the house. Kamaswami entered, a swiftly, smoothly moving man with very gray hair, with very intelligent, cautious eyes, with a greedy mouth….
For a long time, Siddhartha had lived the life of the world and of lust, though without being a part of it. His senses, which he had killed off in hot years as a Samana, had awoken again, he had tasted riches, had tasted lust, had tasted power; nevertheless he…
Siddhartha walked through the forest, was already far from the city, and knew nothing but that one thing, that there was no going back for him, that this life, as he had lived it for many years until now, was over and done away with, and that he had tasted…
By this river I want to stay, thought Siddhartha, it is the same which I 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…
Timid and weeping, the boy had attended his mother’s funeral; gloomy and shy, he had listened to Siddhartha, who greeted him as his son, and welcomed him at his place in Vasudeva’s hut. Pale, he sat for many days by the hill of the dead, did not want to eat,…
For a long time, the wound continued to burn. Many a traveler Siddhartha had to ferry across the river who was accompanied by a son or a daughter, and he saw none of them without envying him, without thinking: “So many, so many thousands possess this sweetest of good fortunes;…
Together with other monks, Govinda used to spend the time of rest between pilgrimages in the pleasure-grove, which the courtesan Kamala had given to the followers of Gotama for a gift. He heard talk of an old ferryman, who lived one day’s journey away by the river, and who was…
