For six years he led the life of a hermit and penitent.

他过了六年修道和忏悔的生活。

But his meditations were deeper and his sufferings greater than those of any other hermit.

但他比所有的其他人都想得深远，他比先前的任何人更严酷地折磨自己。

As he sat, he almost stopped breathing altogether, and endured the most terrible pains.

他坐着时几乎根本不呼吸，他忍受着最可怕的疼痛。

He ate so little that he would often faint with weakness.

他吃得如此之少，以致他竟虚弱得倒下。

And yet, in all those years, he found no inner peace.

但是在所有的这些年月里，他的内心得不到安宁。

For he didn't only reflect on the nature of the world, and whether all things were really one.

因为他不仅在思索世界是什么，是否万物在根本上全都是一回事。

He thought about its sadness, of all the pain and suffering of mankind – of old age, sickness and death.

他思索世间的悲哀，思索人类的全部痛苦和灾难——老年、疾病和死亡。

And no amount of penitence could help him there.

在这方面的忏悔还是帮不了他什么忙。

And so, gradually, he began to eat again.

于是，渐渐地他又开始进食。

His strength returned, and he breathed like other people.

他又恢复了力气，和其他人一样呼吸。

Other hermits who had formerly admired him now despised him, but he took no notice of them.

先前一直颂扬他的其他修道者现在很鄙视他，但是他毫不动摇。

Then, one night, as he sat beneath a fig tree in a beautiful clearing in a wood, understanding came.

然后，有一天夜晚，他在一棵无花果树下那景色宜人的林中空地上打坐，他来了灵感。