Siddhartha (English)

by Hermann Hesse

Through these and other ways he learned to go, a thousand times he left his self, for hours and days he remained in the non-self. But though the ways led away from the self, their end nevertheless always led back to the self.

And there is no thing in this world I know less about than about me, about Siddhartha!’

I want to learn from myself, want to be my student, want to get to know myself, the secret of Siddhartha.’

But I, who wanted to read the book of the world and the book of my own being, I have—for the sake of a meaning I had anticipated before I read—scorned the symbols and letters. I called the visible world a deception,

always the sun and the moon had shone, always rivers had roared and bees had buzzed, but in former times all of this had been nothing more to Siddhartha than 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 and lovely it was, thus to walk through the world, thus childlike, thus awoken, thus open to what is near, thus without distrust.

It is true that he had already known for a long time that his self 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.

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, neither had to be scorned nor overestimated, from both the secret voices of the innermost truth had to be attentively perceived.

‘I am without possessions,’ said Siddhartha, ‘if this is what you mean. Surely, I am without possessions. But I am so voluntarily, and therefore I am not destitute.’

‘Writing is good, thinking is better. Being smart is good, being patient is better.’