Thedeserts groiv: woe him who doth them hjdel
-Ha!
Solemnly!
In effect solemnly!
Aworthybeginning!
Afric manner, solemnly!
Of a lion worthy,
Orperhaps of avirtuous howl-monkey–
But it s naught to you,
Yefriendly damsels dearly loved,
At whose own feet to me,
The first occasion,
To a European under palm-trees,
At seat is now granted. Selah.
Wonderful, truly!
Here do I sit now,
The desert nigh, and yet I am
So far still from the desert,
Even in naught yet deserted:
That is, I mswallowed down
By this the smallest oasis:
It opened up just yawning,
Its loveliest mouth agape,
Most sweet-odoured of all mouthiets:
Then fell I right in,
Right down, right through in mongyou*
Ye friendly damsels dearly loved! Selah.344 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRJI
Hail! hail! to that whale, fishlike,
if it thus for its guest s convenience
Madethings nice! (ye well know,
Surely, my learned allusion?)
Hail to its belly,
If it had e er
Asuch loveliest oasis-belly
As this is: though however I doubt about it,
Withthis come I out of Old-Europe,
Thatdoubt thmoreeagerlythan doth any
Elderly married woman.
May the Lord improve it!
Amen!
HeredoI sit now,
in this the smallest oasis,
Like a date indeed,
Brown, quite sweet, gold-suppurating,
For rounded mouth of maiden longing,
But yet still more for youthful, maidlike,
Ice-cold and snow-white and incisory
Front teeth: and for such assuredly,
Pine the hearts all of ardent date-fruits. Selah.
Tothe there-named south-fruits now,
Similar, all-too-similar,
DoI lie here; by little
Flying insects
Round-sniffled and round-played.
And also by yet littler,
Foolisher, and peccabler
Wishes and phantasies,AMONG DAUGHTERS OF THE DESERT 345
Environed by you,
Yesilent, presentientest
Maiden-kittens,
Duduand Suleika,
Roundsphmxed, that into one word
I maycrowd much feeling:
(Forgive me, OGod,
All such speech-sinning! )
Sit I here the best of air sniffling,
Paradisal air, truly,
Bright and buoyant air, golden-mottled,
Asgoodly air as ever
From lunar orb downfell
Be it by hazard,
Or supervened it by arrogancy?
Asthe ancientpoers relate it.
But doubter, I mnow calling it
In question: with this do I come indeed
Out of Europe,
That doubt th more eagerly than doth any
Elderly marriedwoman.
May the Lord improve it!
Amen.
This the finest air drinking,
With nostrils out-swelled like goblets.
Lacking future, lacking remembrances9
Thusdo I sit here, ye
Friendly damsels dearly loved,
And look at the palm-tree there,
Howit, to a dance-girl, like,340 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
Doth bow and bend and on its haunches bob,
One doth it too, when one view th it long!
Toa dance-girl like, who as it seem th to me,
Too long, and dangerously persistent,
Always, always, just on single leg hath stood?
Then forgot she thereby, as it seem th to me.
The other leg?
Forvainly I, at least,
Did search for the amissing
Fellow-jewel
Namely, the other leg
In the sanctified precincts,
Nigh her very dearest, very tenderest,
Flapping and fluttering and flickering skirting.
Yea, if ye should, ye beauteous friendly ones,
Quitetake myword:
She hath, alas; lost it!
Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu! Hu!
It is away!
For ever away!
Theother leg!
Oh, pity for that loveliest other leg!
Where may it now tarry, all-forsaken weeping?
Thelonesomest leg?
In fear perhaps before a
Furious, yellow, blond and curled
Leonine monster? Or perhaps even
Gnawed away, nibbled badly
Most wretched, woeful! woeful! nibbled badly! Selas
Oh, weep ye not,
Gentle spirits!AMONG DAUGHTERS OF T Hti DESERT 347
Weepye not, ye
Date-fruit spirits! Milk-bosoms!
Ye sweetwood-heart
Purselets!
Weepye no more,
Pallid Dudu!
Be a man, Suleika! Bold! Bold!
Or else should there perhaps
Something strengthening, heart-strengthening,
Here most proper be?
Some inspiring text?
Some solemn exhortation?
Ha! Up now! honour!
Moral honour! European honour!
Blowagain, continue,
Bellows-box of virtue!
Ha!
Oncemorethy roaring,
Thymoral roaring!
Asavirtuous lion
Nigh the daughters of deserts roaring!
For virtue s out-howl,
Yevery dearest maidens,
Is morethan every
European fervour, European hot-hunger!
And now do I stand here,
As European,
I can t be different, Gods help to me!
Amen!
"be deserts grow: woehtm whodoth them hide!348 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
. The Awakening
AFTERthe song of the wanderer and shadow, the cave became
all at once full of noise and laughter: and since the assembled
guests all spake simultaneously, and even the ass, encouraged
thereby, no longer remained silent, a little aversion and scorn
for his visitors came over Zarathustra, although he rejoiced at
their gladness. For it seemed to him a sign of convalescence.
So he slipped out into the open air and spake to his animals.
"Whither hath their distress now gone?" said he, and
already did he himself feel relieved of his petty disgust
"with me, it seemeth that they have unlearned their cries of
distress!
Though, alas! not yet their crying." And Zarathustra
stopped his ears, for just then did the YE-A of the ass mix
strangely with the noisy jubilation of those higher men.
"They are merry," he began again, "and who knoweth?
perhaps at their host s expense; and if they havelearned of me
to laugh, still it is not my laughter they have learned.
But what matter about that! They are old people: they re
cover in their ownway, they laugh in their ownway; mine ears
have already endured worse and have not becomepeevish.
This day is a victory: he already yieldeth, hefleeth, the spirit
of gravity, mine old arch-enemy! Howwell this day is about te
end, which began so badly and gloomily!
And it is about to end. Already cometh the evening: over
the sea rideth it hither, the good rider! How it bobbeth, the
blessed one, the home-returning one, in its purple saddles!THE AWAKENING 349
The sky gazeth brightly thereon, the world lieth deep. Oh
r
all ye strange ones who have come to me, it is already worth
a/hile to have lived with me!"
Thus spake Zarathustra. And again came the cries anc*
laughter of the higher men out of the cave: then began he
anew:
They bite at it, my bait taketh, there departeth also from
them their enemy, the spirit of gravity. Now do they learn to
laugh at themselves: do I hear rightly?
Myvirile food taketh effect, mystrong and savoury sayings:
and verily, I did not nourish them with flatulent vegetables!
But with warrior-food, with conqueror-food: new desires did
I awaken.
Newhopes are in their arms and legs, their hearts expand.
They find new words, soon will their spirits breathe wanton
ness.
Such food may sure enough not be proper for children, nor
even for longing girls old and young. One persuadeth their
bowels otherwise; I am not their physician and teacher.
The disgust departeth from these higher men; well! that is
my victory. In my domain they become assured; all stupid
shame fleeth away; they empty themselves.
They empty their hearts, good times return unto them, they
keep holiday and ruminate, they becomethankful.
That do I take as the best sign: they become thankful. Not
long will it be ere they devise festivals, and put up memorials
to their old joys.
They are convalescents!" Thus spake Zarathustra joyfullv
to his heart and gazed outward; his animals, however, pressed
up to him, and honoured his happiness and his silence.THUS PAKE ZARATHUSTRA
2
All on a sudden however, Zarathustra s ear was frightened
for the cave which had hitherto been full of noise and laugh
ter, became all at once still as death; his nose, however, smel
a sweet-scented vapour and incense-odour, as if from burning
pine-cones.
"What happeneth? Whatare they about?" heasked himself,
And stole nrr tc the entrance, that he might be able unobserved
to see his guests. But wonder upon wonder! what was he then
obliged to behold with his own eyes!
"They have all of them become pious again, they pray, they
are mad!" said he, and was astonished beyond measure. And
forsooth! all these higher men, the two kings, the pope out of
service, the evil magician, the voluntary beggar, the wanderer
and shadow, the old soothsayer, the spiritually conscientious
one, and the ugliest man they all lay on their knees like chil
dren and credulous old women, and worshipped the ass. And
just then began the ugliest manto gurgle and snort, as if some
thing unutterable in him tried to find expression; when, how
ever, he had actually found words, behold! it was a pious
strange litany in praise of the adored and censed ass. And the
litany sounded thus:
Amen! And glory and honour and wisdom and thanks anc*
praise and strength be to our God, from everlasting to ever
lasting!
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
He carried our burdens, he hath taken upon him the forrr
of a servant, he is patient of heart and never saith Nav; and h*
who loveth his God chastiserh him.THE AWAKENING 351
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Hespeaketh not:except that he ever saith Yea to the worlo!
vhich he created: thus doth he extol his world. It is his artful-
less that speaketh not: thus is he rarely found wrong.
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Uncomelygoeth hethrough theworld. Grey is the favourite
colour in which he wrappeth his virtue. Hath he spirit, then
doth he conceal it; every one, however, believeth in his long
ears.
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Whathidden wisdom it is to wear long ears, and only to say
Yea and never Nay! Hath he not created the world in his own
image, namely, as stupid as possible?
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Thou goest straight and crooked ways1
it concerneth thee
;
little what seemeth straight or crooked unto us men. Beyond
good and evil is thy domain. It is thine innocence not to know
vhat innocence is.
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Lo! howthou spurnest none from thee, neither beggars nor
kings. Thou sufferest ,-itle children to come unto thee, and
when the bad boys decoy thee, theii sayest thou simply, YE-A.
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.
Thou lovest she-asses and fresh figs, thou art no food-
iespiser. A thistle tickleth thy heart when thou chancest to be
hungry. There is the wisdom of a God therein.
The ass, however, here brayed YE-A.352 THUS SPAKE ZARATKUSTRA
78. The Ass-Festival
*iT THIS place in the litany, however, Zarathustra could nc
longer control himself; hehimself cried out YE-A, louder even
thanthe ass, and sprang into themidst of his maddened guests.
"Whatever are you about, ye grown-up children? he ex
claimed, pulling up the praying ones from the ground. "Alas,
if any one else, except Zarathustra, had seen you:
Every one would think you the worst blasphemers, or the
very foolishest old women, with your new belief!
And thou thyself, thou old pope, how is it in accordance
with thee, to adore an ass in such a manner as God?"
"O Zarathustra," answered the pope, "forgive me, but in
divine matters I am more enlightened even than thou. And it
is right that it should be so.
Better to adore Godso, in this form, than in no form at all.!
Think over this saying, mine exalted friend: thou wilt readily
divine that in such a saying there is wisdom.
Hewhosaid Godis a Spirit madethe greatest stride and
slide hitherto made on earth towards unbelief: such a dictum
is not easily amended again on earth!
Mine old heart leapeth and boundeth because there is still
something to adore on earth. Forgive it, OZarathustra, to an
old, pious pontiff-heart!
-"And thou," said Zarathustra to the wanderer and
shadow, "thou callest and thinkest thyself a free spirit? And
thou here practisest such idolatry and hierolatry?THE ASS-FESTIVAL 353
Worseverily, doestthouherethan with thy bad browngirls,
thou bad, new believer!"
"It is sad enough," answered the wanderer and shadow,
"thou art right: but how can I help it! The old God liveth
again, OZarathustra, thou mayst say whatthou wilt.
The ugliest man is to blame for it all: he hath reawakened
him. And if he say that he once killed him, with Gods death
is always just a prejudice."
-"And thou," said Zarathustra, "thou bad old magician,
what didst thou do! Whoought to believe any longer in thee
in this free age, whenthou believest in such divine donkeyism?
It was a stupid thing that chou didst; how couldst thou, a
shrewd man, do such a stupid thing!"
"O Zarathustra," answered the shrewd magician, "thou art
right, it was a stupid thing, it was also repugnant to me."
"And thou even," said Zarathustra to the spiritually con
scientious one, "consider, and put thy finger to thy nose! Doth
nothing go against thy conscience here? Is thy spirit not too
cleanly for this praying and the fumes of those devotees?"
"There is something therein," said the spiritually conscien
tious one, and put his finger to his nose, "there is something in
this spectacle which even doeth good to my conscience.
Perhaps I dare not believe in God: certain it is however, that
God seemeth to memost worthy of belief in this form.
God is said to be eternal, according to the testimony of the
mostpious: hewhohath so muchtimetaketh his time. Asslow
and as stupid as possible: thereby can such a one nevertheless
go very far.
Andhewhohath too muchspirit mightwell becomeinfatu
ated with stupidity and folly. Think of thyself, OZarathustra!
Thou thyself verily! even thou couldst well become an
ass through superabundance of wisdom.354 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
Doth not the true sago willingly walk on the crookedest
paths? The evidence teacheth it, O Zarathustra, thine own
evidence!"
-"And thou thyself, finally/ said Zarathustra, and turned
towards the ugliest man, who still lay on the ground stretch
ing up his arm to the ass (for he gave it wine to drink).
"Say,
thou nondescript, what hast thou been about!
Thou seemest to metransformed, thine eyes glow, the man-
de of the sublime covereth thine ugliness: what didst thou do?
Is it then true what they say, that thou hast again awakened
him? And why? Washe not tor good reasons killed and made
away with?
Thou thyself seemest to meawakened: what didst thou do?
why didst thou turn round? Why didst thou get converted?
Speak, thou nondescript!"
"O Zarathustra," answered the ugliest man, "thou art a
rogue!
Whetherhe yet liveth, or again liveth, or is thoroughly dead
which of us both knoweth that best? I ask thee.
One thing however do I know, from thyself did I learn it
once, OZarathustra: he who wanteth to kill most thoroughly,
laugheth.
Not by wrath but by laughter doth one kill thus spakest
thou once, O Zarathustra, thou hidden one, thou destroyer
without wrath, thou dangerous saint, thou art a
rogue!"
Then, however, did it come to pass that Zarathustra, aston
!hed at such merely roguish answers, jumped back to the doorTHU ASS-FESTIVAL 355
of his cave, and turning towards all his guests, cried out with
a strong voice:
"O ye wags, all of you, ye buffoons! Why do ye dissemble
and disguise yourselves before me!
How the hearts of all of you convulsed with delight and
wickedness, because ye had at last become again like little
children namely, pious,
Because ye at last did again as children do namely,
prayed, folded your hands and said good God!
But now leave, I pray you, this nursery, mine own cave,
where today all childishness is carried on. Cool down, here
outside, your hot child-wantonness and heart-tumult!
To be sure: except ye become as little children ye shall not
enter into that kingdomof heaven." (AndZarathustra pointed
aloft with his hands.)
"But we do not at all want to enter into the kingdom of
heaven: we have become men, so we want the kingdom of
earth."
And once more began Zarathustra to speak. "O my new
friends," said he, "ye strange ones, ye higher men, howwell
do ye now please me,
Since ye have again become joyful! Ye have, verily, all
blossomed forth: it seemeth to methat for such flowers as you,
new festivals are required.
A little valiant nonsense, some divine service and ass
festival, some old joyful Zarathustra fool, some blusterer tji
blowyour souls bright.356 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
Fcrget not this night and this ass-festival, ye higher men!
That did ye devise when with me, that do I take as a good
omen, such things only the convalescents devise!
And should ye celebrate it again, this ass-festival, do it from
love to yourselves, do it also from love to me! And in remem
brance of me!"
Thus spake Zarathustra.
The Drunken Song
MEANWHILE one after another had gone out into the open air,
and into the cool, thoughtful night; Zarathustra himself, how
ever, led the ugliest man by the hand, that he might show him
his night-world, and the great round moon, and the silvery
water-falls near his cave. There they at last stood still beside
one another; all of them old people, but with comforted, brave
hearts, and astonished in themselves that it was so well with
them on earth; the mystery of the night, however, came nighcr
and nigher to their hearts. And anew Zarathustra thought to
himself: "Oh, howwell do they now please me, these higher
men!" but he did not say it aloud, for he respected their
happiness and their silence.
Then, however, there happened that which in this astonish
ing long daywas most astonishing: the ugliest manbegan once
more and for the last time to gurgle and snort, and when heTHE DRUNKEN SONG 357
at length found expression, behold! there sprang a ques
tion plump and plain out of his mouth, a good, deep, clear
question, which moved the hearts of all who listened to him.
"My friends, all of
you,"
said the ugliest man, "what thinK
ye? For the sake of this day / amfor the first time content to
have lived mine entire life.
And that I testify so much is still not enough for me. It
is worth while living on the earth: one day, one festival with
Zarathustra, hath taught me to love the earth.
Was that life? will I say unto death. Well! Once
more!
My friends, what think ye? Will ye not, like me, say unto
death: Was that life? For the sake of Zarathustra, well!
Once more!"
Thus spake the ugliest man; it was not, however, far from
midnight. And what took place then, think ye? As soon as the
higher men heard his question, they became all at once con
scious of their transformation and convalescence, and of him
whowas the cause thereof: then did they rush up to Zarathus
tra, thanking, honouring, caressing him, and kissing his hands,
each in his own peculiar way; so that some laughed and some
wept. The old soothsayer, however, danced with delight; and.
though he was then, as some narrators suppose, full of sweet
wine, he was certainly still fuller of sweet life, and had re
nounced all weariness. There are even those who narrate that
the ass then danced: for not in vain had the ugliest manprevi
ously given it wine to drink. That maybe the case, or it may be
otherwise; and if in truth the ass did not dance that evening,
there nevertheless happened then greater and rarer wonders
than the dancing of an ass would have been. In short, as the
proverb of Zarathustra saith: "What doth it matter!"358 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
When, however, this took place with the ugliest man, Zara
diusura stood there like one drunken: his glance dulled, his
tongue faltered and his feet staggered. And who could divine
what thoughts then passed through Zarathustra s soul? Ap
parently, however, his spirit retreated and fled in advance and
was in remote distances, and as it were "wandering on high
"
mountain-ridges," as it standeth written,
twixt two seas,
Wandering twixt the past and the future as a heavy
cloud." Gradually, however, while the higher men held him
in their arms, he came back to himself a little, and resisted
with his hands the crowd of the honouring and caring ones;
but he did not speak. All at once, however, he turned his head
quickly, for he seemed to hear something: then laid he his
finger on his mouth and said: "Come!"
And immediately it became still and mysterious round
about; from the depth however there cameup slowly the sound
of a clock-bell. Zarathustra listened thereto, like the higher
men; then, however, laid hehis ringer on his mouth the second
time, and said again: "Come! Come! It is getting on to mid
night!"
and his voice had changed. But still he had not
moved from the spot. Then it became yet stiller and more mys
terious, and everything hearkened, even the ass, and Zarathus
tra s noble r.njmals, the eagle and the serpent, likewise the
cave of Zarathustra and the big cool moon, and the night itself.
Zarathustra, however, laid his hand upon his mouth for the
third time, and said:
Come! Come! Come! Let us now wander! It is the now,
let us wander into the night!THE DRUNKEN SONG
3
L e higher men, it is getting on to midnight: then will I say
something into your ears, as that old clock-bell saith it into
mine ear,
As mysteriously, as frightfully, and as cordially as that
midnight clock-bell speaketh it to me, which hath experienced
more than one man:
Which hath already counted the smarting throbbings of
your fathers hearts ah! ah! how it sigheth! how it laugheth
in its dream! the old, deep, deep midnight!
Hush! Hush! Then is there many a thing heard which may
not be heard by day; now however, in the cool air, when even
all the tumult of your hearts hath become still,
Nowdoth it speak, nowis it heard, now doth it steal into
overwakeful, nocturnal souls: ah! ah! how the midnight sigh
eth! howit laugheth in its dream!
Hearest thou not how it mysteriously, frightfully, and
cordially speaketh unto thee, the old deep, deep midnight?
O man, take heed!
Woeto me! Whither hath time gone? Have I not sunk into
deep wells? The world sleepeth
Ah! Ah! The dog howleth, the moon shineth. Rather will 1
die, rather will I die, than say unto you what my midnight-
heart now thinketh.
Already have I died. It is all over. Spider, whyspinnest thou
around me? Wilt thou have blood? Ah! Ah! The dew falleth,
tht hour cometh560 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
The hour in which I frost and freeze, which asketh anc
asketh and asketh: "Who hath sufficient courage for it?
Whois to be master of the world? Whois going to say:
Thus shall ye flow, ye great and small streams!"
The hour approacheth: O man, thou higher man, take
heed! this talk is for fine ears, for thine ears what saith deep
midnight s voice indeed?
It carrieth me away, my soul danceth. Day s-work! Days-
work! Whois to be master of the world:
Themoonis cool, the wind is still. Ah! Ah! Haveye already
flown high enough? Yehave danced: a leg, nevertheless, is not
awing.
Yegood dancers, nowis all delight over: wine hath become
lees, every cup hath become brittle, the sepulchres mutter.
Yehavenot flown high enough: nowdo the sepulchres mut
ter: "Free the dead! Whyis it so long night? Doth not the
moonmakeus drunken?"
Ye higher men, free the sepulchres, awaken the corpses!
Ah, why doth the worm still burrow? There approacheth,
there approacheth, the hour,
There boometh the clock-bell, there thrilleth still the
heart, there burroweth still the wood-worm, the heart-worm.
Ah! Ah! The world is deep!
Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy drunken, ranun
culine tone! how long, how far hath come unto methv cone
fromthe distance, from the oonds of love!THE DRUNKEN SONG 361
Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain hath torn
thy heart, father-pain, fathers -pain, forefathers -pain; thy
speech hath become ripe,
Ripelike the golden autumn and the afternoon, like mine
anchorite heart new sayest thou: The world itself hath be
come ripe, the grape turneth brown,
Now doth it wish to die, to die of happiness. Ye higher
men, doye not feel it? Therewelleth upmysteriously an odour,
Aperfume and odour of eternity, a rosy-blessed, brown,
gold-wine-odour of old happiness.
Of drunken midnight-death happiness, which singeth:
the world is deep, anddeeper than the day could read!
Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am too pure for thee.
Touch me not! Hath not my world just now become perfect?
Myskin is too purefor thy hands. Leave mealone, thou dull,
doltish, stupid day! Is not the midnight brighter?
The purest are to be masters of the world, the least known,
the strongest, the midnight-souls, who are brighter and deeper
than any day.
Oday, thou gropest for me? Thou feelest for myhappiness?
For thee am I rich, lonesome, a treasure-pit, a gold chamber?
O world, thou wantest me? Am I worldly for thee? Am1
spiritual for thee? AmI divine for thee? But day and world,
ye are too coarse,
Have cleverer hands, grasp after deeper happiness, after
deeperunhappiness, grasp after some God; grasp not after me:
Mine unhappiness, my happiness is deep, thou strange
day, but yet am I no God, no God s-hell: deep is its woe.362 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
8
Gods woe is deeper, thou strange world! Grasp at God s
woe, not at me! Whatam I! A drunken sweet lyre,
A midnight-lyre, a bell-frog, which no one understand-
eth, but which must speak before deaf ones, ye higher men!
For ye do not understand me!
Gone! Gone! Oyouth! Onoontide! Oafternoon! Nowhave
come evening and night and midnight, the dog howleth, the
wind:
Is the wind not a dog? It whineth, it barketh, it howleth.
Ah! Ah! howshe sigheth! howshe laugheth, howshewheezetb
and panteth, the midnight!
How she just now speaketh soberly, this drunken poetess!
hath she perhaps overdrunk her drunkenness? hath she be
come overawake? doth she ruminate?
Herwoedoth she ruminate over, in a dream, the old, deep
midnight and still more her joy. For joy, although woeb<"
deep, joy is deeper still than grief can be.
9
Thougrape-vine! Whydost thou praise me? Have I not cut
thee! I am cruel, thou bleedest: what meaneth thy praise of
my drunken cruelty?
"Whatever hath become perfect, everything mature
wanteth to die!" so sayest thou. Blessed, blessed be the vint-
iier s knife! But everything immature wanteth to live: alas!
Woesaith: "Hence! Go! Away, thou woe!" But everything
that suffereth wanteth to live, that it may become mature an^
lively and longing.THE DRUNKEN SONG 363
Longing for the further, the higher, the brighter."I want
heirs," so saith everything that suffereth,"I wantchildren, I do
not want myself,"
Joy, however, doth not wantheirs, it doth not wantchildren,
j -jy wanteth itself, it wanteth eternity, it wanteth recurrence,
it wanteth everything eternally-like-itself.
Woe saith: "Break, bleed, thou heart! Wander, thou leg!
Thouwing, fly! Onward! upward! thou
pain!"
Well! Cheerup!
Omine old heart: Woesaith: "Hence! Go!"
10
Ye higher men, what think ye? Am I a soothsayer? Or a
dreamer? Or a drunkard? Or a dream-reader? Or a midnight-
bell?
Or a drop of dew? Or a fume and fragrance of eternity?
Hearye it not? Smell ye it not? Just nowhath myworld become
perfect, midnight is also mid-day,
Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night is also a
sun, go away! or ye will learn that a sage is also a fool.
Said ye ever Yea to one joy? Omyfriends, then said ye Yea
also unto all woe. All things are enlinked, enlaced and enam
oured,
Wanted ye ever once to come twice; said ye ever: "Thou
pleasest me, happiness! Instant! Moment!" then wanted ye all
^o come back again!
All anew, all eternal, all enlinked, enlaced and enam
oured, Oh, then did ye love the world,
Yeeternal ones, ye love it eternally and for all time: and
also unto woe do ye say: Henrp Go! but come back! For ioyf
all want eternity!THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
n_
All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it wanteth honey,
it wanteth lees, it wanteth drunken midnight, it wantetl"
graves, it wanteth grave-tears consolation, it wanteth gildec
evening-red
Whatdoth not joy want! it is thirstier, heartier, hungrier,
more frightful, more mysterious, than all woe: it wanteth
itself, it biteth into itself, the rings will writheth in it,
It wanteth love, it wanteth hate, it is over-rich, it bestow-
eth, it throweth away, it beggeth for some one to take from it,
it thanketh the taker, it would fain be hated,
So rich is joy that it thirsteth for woe, for hell, for hate,
foT^hame, for the lame, for the ivorld, for this world, Oh.
ye know it indeed!
Yehigher men, for you doth it long, this joy, this irrepressi
ble, blessed joy for your woe, ye failures! For failures,
longeth all eternal joy.
For joys all want themselves, therefore do they also want
grief! O happiness, O pain! Oh break, thou heart! Ye higher
men, do learn it, that joys want eternity.
Joys want the eternity of all things, they want deep, pro
found eternity!
12
Have ye now learned my song? Have ye divined what it
would say? Well! Cheer up! Ye higher men, sing now my
roundelay!
Sing now yourselves the song, the name of which is "Once
more," the signification of which is "Unto all eternity!"-
sing, ye higher men, Zarathustra s roundelay!THE SIGN 363
Oman!Take heed!
Whatsaith deep midnights voice Indeed?
"I slept my sleep,
"From deepest dream I ve woke, and plead:
"The world Is deep,
Anddeeperthan thedaycould read.
is its woe
"Deep
,
"Joy deeper still than grief can be:
"Woe saith: Hence! Go!
"But joys all want eternity,
" Wantdeep, profound eternity!"
80. The Sign
IN THE morning, however, after this night, Zarathustra
jumped up from his couch, and, having girded his loins, he
came out of his cave glowing and strong, like a morning sun
coming outof gloomymountains.
"Thou great star," spake he, as he had spoken once before,
"thou deep eye of happiness, what would be all thy happiness
if thouhadst not those for whomthou shinest!
And if they remained in their chambers whilst thou art
already awake, and comest and bestowest and distributest, how
would thy proud modestyupbraid for it!
Well! they still sleep, these higher men, whilst/ amawake:
they are not my proper companions! Not for them do I wait
here in my mountains.
my work I want to be, at my day: but they understand360 THUS SPAKE ZAE.ATHUSTRA
not what are the signs of my morning, my step is not fo>
them the awakening-call.
They still sleep in mycave; their dream still drinketh at my
drunken songs. The audient ear for me the obedient ear, is
yet lacking in their limbs."
This had Zarathustra spoken to his heart when the sun
arose: then looked he inquiringly aloft, for he heard above
him the sharp call of his eagle. "Well!" called he upwards,
"thus is it pleasing and proper to me. Mine animals are awake,
for 1 amawake.
Mine eagle is awake, and like mehonoureth the sun. With
eagle-talons doth it grasp at the new light. Ye are my proper
animals; I love you.
But still do I lack my proper men!"-
Thus spake Zarathustra; then, however, it happened that all
on a sudden he became aware that he was flocked around and
fluttered around, as if by innumerable birds, the whizzing of
so many wings, however, and the crowding around his head
was so great that he shut his eyes. Andverily, there came down
upon him as it were a cloud, like a cloud of arrows which
poureth upon a new enemy. But behold, here it was a cloud of
love, and showered upon a new friend.
"What happeneth unto me?" thought Zarathustra in his
Astonished heart, and slowly seated himself on the big stone
which lay close to the exit from his cave. But while he grasped
about with his hands, around him, above him and below him,
and repelled the tender birds, behold, there then happened to
him something still stranger: for he grasped thereby unawares
into a mass of thick, warm, shaggy hair; at the same time, how
ever, there sounded before him a roar, a long, soft lion-roar.
"The sign cometh" said Zarathustra, and a change cameTHE SIGN 367
over nis heart. And in truth, when it turned clear before him,
there lay a yellow, powerful animal at his feet, resting its head
on his knee, unwilling to leave him out of love, and doing
like a dog which again findeth its old master. The doves, how
ever, were no less eager with their love than the lion; and
whenever a dove whisked over its nose, the lion shook its head
and wondered and laughed.
Whenall this went on Zarathustra spake only a word: ff
Aly
children are nigh, mychildren"
,
then he became quite mute
His heart, however, was loosed, and from his eyes there
dropped down tears and fell upon his hands. And he took no
further notice of anything, but sat there motionless, without
repelling the animals further. Then flew the doves to and fro,
and perched on his shoulder, and caressed his white hair, and
did not tire of their tenderness and joyousness. Thestrong lion,
however, licked always the tears that fell on Zarathustra s
hands, and roared and growled shyly. Thus did these animals
do.-
All this wenton for a longtime, or a short time: forproperly
speaking, there is no time on earth for such things. Mean
while, however, thehighermenhad awakened in Zarathustra s
cave, and marshalled themselves for a procession to go to meet
Zarathustra, andgivehimtheir morninggreeting: for they had
found when they awakened that he no longer tarried with
them. When, however, they reached the door of the cave and
the noise of their steps had preceded them, the hon started
violently; it turned away all at once from Zarathustra, and
roaring wildly, sprang towards the cave. The higher men,
however, when they heard the lion roaring, cried all aloud as
with one voice, fled back and vanished in an instant.
Zarathustra himself, however, stunned and strange, ros*
from his seat, looked around him, stood there astonished, in368 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
quired of his heart, bethought himself, and remained alone.
"What did I hear?" said he at last, slowly, "what happened
unto mejust now?"
But soon there came to him his recollection, and he took in
at a glance all that had taken place between yesterday and to
day. "Here is indeed the stone," said he, and stroked his beard,
"on // sat I yester-morn; and here camethe soothsayer unto me.
and here heard I first the cry which I heard just now, the great
cry of distress.
Oye higher men, your distress was it that tne old soothsayer
foretold to meyester-morn,
Unto your distress did he want to seduce and tempt me:
O Zarathustra, said he to me, I come to seduce thee to thy
last sin/
To my last sin?" cried Zarathustra, and laughed angrily at
his own words: "what hath been reserved for me as my last
sin?"
And once more Zarathustra became absorbed in himself,
and sat down again on the big stone and meditated. Suddenly
hesprangup,
"Fellow-suffering! Fellow-suffering with the higher men!"
he cried out, arid his countenance changed into brass. "Well.1
That hath had its time!
My suffering and my fellow-suffering what matter about
them! DoI then strive after happiness? I strive after mywork!
Well! Thelion hath come, mychildren are nigh, Zarathustra
hath grown ripe, mine hour hath come:
This is my morning, my day beginneth: arise now, arise,
thou great noontide!"
Thus spake Zarathustra and left his cave, glowing and
strong, like a morning sun coming out of gloomy mountains.
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