On the festive fifteenth night
The harmony of spring begins with the first full moon.
Decorated lanterns hang in the busy markets
As all sing the songs of a world at peace.
Over the lantern light in streets and markets
The moon's round mirror rises in the sky
Like a silver dish, driven by the charioteer Ping Yi.
The lanterns were like a brocade carpet woven by fairies;
The lanterns were reflected by the moon,
Doubling its brilliance;
The moon shone on the lanterns,
Making them resplendent.
There was no end of iron-chain star bridges,
Lantern flowers and trees of fire.
Snowflake lanterns,
Plum-blossom lanterns,
Like fragments of ice in spring;
Embroidered screen lanterns,
Painted screen lanterns,
Made up from every color.
Walnut lanterns,
Lotus lanterns,
Hung high on lantern towers;
Blue lion lanterns,
White elephant lanterns,
Fixed on lofty frames.
Shrimp lanterns,
Terrapin lanterns,
Placed in front of awnings;
Goat lanterns,
Hare lanterns,
Bringing the eaves to life.
Eagle lanterns,
Phoenix lanterns,
Lined up next to each other;
Tiger lanterns,
Horse lanterns,
Being carried along together.
Red-crowned crane lanterns,
White deer lanterns,
Carrying the Star of Longevity;
Goldfish lanterns,
Whale lanterns,
On which rode the poet Li Bai.
Giant turtle mountain lanterns,
Where gods and immortals gathered;
Revolving horse lanterns
On which warriors joined combat.
The towers of lanterns on thousands of houses
Made a world of clouds and smoke for several miles.
On one side, shining reins and flying jade saddles;
On the other, rumbling carriages leave fragrance behind.
On the red balcony,
Leaning against the railings,
Behind the curtains,
Shoulder to shoulder,
Hand in hand,
Pairs of beauties were eager for the fun.
By the bridge over green waters,
Noisy,
Many-coloured,
Drunken,
Laughing
Couples enjoyed the brilliant sights.
All of the city's flutes and drums were playing;
Panpipes and songs went on all night.
There is also this poem as evidence:
Amid the fine brocades, of lotus were the songs;
This blessed land at peace was full of many throngs.
The lanterns and the moon upon this festive night
Foretold rich harvests after rain and wind just right.
This was a night when the curfew was relaxed, so that there were huge crowds and a great commotion. People were dancing, walking on stilts, wearing masks and riding elephants, pushing and crowding to East and to West as they looked all around. When they reached the bridge of golden lamps the Tang Priest and the monks pushed forward for a look and saw that it consisted of three golden lamps each the size of a water vat and shaped like a two-storied pavilion with a light shining out through intricate gold and silver filigree openwork. Glazed ceramic tiles inside the lamps reflected their light. They were so bright they outshone the moon, and their oil was very fragrant.
“What sort of oil do those lamps burn?” the Tang Priest asked the monks, “and why does it smell so remarkably good?”
“You wouldn't know that, Teacher,” the monks replied. “There is a county near this prefecture called Mintian. In the whole county there are 240 wards, and when we have our annual assignment of jobs to be done for the state, 240 households have to provide oil. All the other jobs assigned by the prefecture or county are reasonable enough, but these oil households have a very hard time. Every household has to take it on for a year, and it costs them over two hundred ounces of silver. The oil isn't ordinary oil but perfumed refined butter oil. One ounce costs two ounces of silver and a pound costs thirty-two ounces. Each of the lamps holds five hundred pounds of oil, making 1,500 pounds for the three of them, costing 48,000 ounces of silver. With other miscellaneous expenses it comes to over 50,000 ounces. And that only lasts three nights.”
“How can so much oil be used up in only three nights?” Monkey asked.
“In each lamp there are forty-nine big wicks about the size of an egg made of rushes wrapped in silk floss,” the monks explained. “When they have burned for one night the Lord Buddhas appear, the oil all vanishes and the lamp goes out.”
“I suppose the Lord Buddhas take all the oil,” said Pig with a grin as he stood at one side.
“That's right,” the monks replied, “that's what everyone in the city has always said ever since ancient times. If the oil runs dry they say that the Buddhas have taken the oil and the crops will certainly be bountiful; but if it doesn't dry up on one occasion there will be famine, drought and the wrong weather at the wrong time in that year. That's why everyone makes this offering.”
As they were talking there was the howling of a wind up in the air, sending everyone who was admiring the lanterns fleeing in terror. The monks could not hold their ground either. “Let's go back, venerable teacher,” they said, “the wind's here. It's the Lord Buddhas bringing blessings. They're here to see the lanterns.”
“How can you tell that?” the Tang Priest asked.
“It's the same every year,” the monks replied. “The wind blows up before the third watch. Everybody gets out of the way as they know that it is the Lord Buddhas bringing down blessings.”
“I am one who thinks of, invokes and worships Buddhas,” the Tang Priest said. “If the Buddhas are honoring us with their presence on this festive occasion it would be wonderful to be able to worship them.” He rejected the monks' repeated urgings to go back, and a little later the forms of three Buddhas appeared in the wind and approached the lamps. The Tang Priest was so excited that he ran to the top of the lamp bridge and threw himself down worship.
Brother Monkey rushed forward in alarm to drag him to his feet and say, “They're no good, Master. I'm sure they're evil.” Before the words were even out of his mouth the lamps all went out as with a great whoosh the Tang Priest was swept up by the wind. It was terrible! Who knew what evil monsters from what cave in what mountain had been posing as Buddhas to watch the golden lamps?
Pig and Friar Sand were thrown into such panic that they rushed all about, searching and calling for their master. “Brothers,” called Monkey, “no use shouting here. The master's bliss has turned to disaster. He's been carried off by evil spirits.”
“How can you tell that, my lord,” the appalled monks asked.
“You're just a bunch of mortals,” Monkey replied with a grin, “so you haven't realized what's been happening all these years. The evil spirits have fooled you into thinking they're true Buddhas coming down to accept the offerings of lamps. The Buddhas that appeared when the wind blew just now were three evil spirits. My master didn't realize who they were, so he went up on the top of the bridge to worship them. They covered up all the lights and carried him off together with the oil in the lamps. As I was a bit too late the three of them got away by wind.”
“Brother,” said Friar Sand, “Whatever are we to do?”
“Not a moment to lose,” said Monkey. “You two go back the monastery with the monks and look after the horse and the luggage. I'm going after them while this wind's still blowing.”
The splendid Great Sage then shot up by his somersault cloud into mid air, picked up the stench of the wind and headed Northeast in pursuit, carrying on till all of a sudden the wind dropped at dawn. A great mountain could be seen, a most steep, towering and splendid mountain: