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 ri secrets. Bright pearls he saw rising from the deep, quiet bubbles of air floating on the refleg surface, the blue of the sky beied 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 wao learn from it, he wao listen to it. He who would uand this water and its secrets, so it seemed to him, would also uand many other things, mas, all secrets.
But out of all secrets of the river, he today only saw ohis oouched his soul. He saw: this water ran and ran, incessantly it ran, and was heless always there, was always at all times the same a new in every moment! Great be he who would grasp this, uand this! He uood and grasped it not, only felt some idea of it stirring, a distant memory, divine voices.
Siddhartha rose, the ws of hunger in his body became unbearable. In a daze he walked on, up the path by the bank, upriver, listeo the current, listeo the rumbling hunger in his body.
When he reached the ferry, the boat was just ready, and the same ferryman who had oransported the young Samana across the river, stood in the boat, Siddhartha reised him, he had also aged very much.
"Would you like to ferry me over?" he asked.
The ferryman, being astoo see su elegant man walking along and on foot, took him into his boat and pushed it off the bank.
"Its a beautiful life you have chosen for yourself," the passenger spoke. "It must be beautiful to live by this water every day and to cruise on it."
With a smile, the man at the oar moved from side to side: "It is beautiful, sir, it is as you say. But isnt every life, isnt every work beautiful?"
"This may be true. But I envy you for yours."
"Ah, you would soon stop enjoying it. This is nothing for people wearing fine clothes."
Siddhartha laughed. "Once before, I have been looked upon today because of my clothes, I have been looked upon with distrust. Wouldnt you, ferryman, like to accept these clothes, which are a nuisao me, from me? For you must know, I have no moo pay your fare."
"Youre joking, sir," the ferryman laughed.
"Im not joking, friend. Behold, once before you have ferried me across this water in your boat for the immaterial reward of a good deed. Thus, do it today as well, and accept my clothes for it."
"And do you, sir, io tiravelling without clothes?"
"Ah, most of all I wouldnt want to tiravelling at all. Most of all I would like you, ferryman, to give me an old loincloth a me with you as your assistant, or rather as your trainee, for Ill have to learn first how to hahe boat."
For a long time, the ferryman looked at the stranger, searg.
"Now I reise you," he finally said. "At oime, youve slept in my hut,