Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · الترخيص: Public domain · المصدر

• Their knees continually adore, and their hands are eulogies of virtue, but their heart knoweth naught thereof. ¶1195
• And again there are those who regard it as virtue to say: "Virtue is necessary"; but after all they believe only that policemen are necessary. ¶1196
• And many a one who cannot see men's loftiness, calleth it virtue to see their baseness far too well: thus calleth he his evil eye virtue.-- ¶1197
• And some want to be edified and raised up, and call it virtue: and others want to be cast down,--and likewise call it virtue. ¶1198
• And thus do almost all think that they participate in virtue; and at least every one claimeth to be an authority on "good" and "evil." ¶1199
• But Zarathustra came not to say unto all those liars and fools: "What do YE know of virtue! What COULD ye know of virtue!"-- ¶1200
• But that ye, my friends, might become weary of the old words which ye have learned from the fools and liars: ¶1201
• That ye might become weary of the words "reward," "retribution," "punishment," "righteous vengeance."-- ¶1202
• That ye might become weary of saying: "That an action is good is because it is unselfish." ¶1203
• Ah! my friends! That YOUR very Self be in your action, as the mother is in the child: let that be YOUR formula of virtue! ¶1204
• Verily, I have taken from you a hundred formulae and your virtue's favourite playthings; and now ye upbraid me, as children upbraid. ¶1205
• They played by the sea--then came there a wave and swept their playthings into the deep: and now do they cry. ¶1206
• But the same wave shall bring them new playthings, and spread before them new speckled shells! ¶1207
• Thus will they be comforted; and like them shall ye also, my friends, have your comforting--and new speckled shells!-- ¶1208
• Life is a well of delight; but where the rabble also drink, there all fountains are poisoned. ¶1211
• To everything cleanly am I well disposed; but I hate to see the grinning mouths and the thirst of the unclean. ¶1212
• They cast their eye down into the fountain: and now glanceth up to me their odious smile out of the fountain. ¶1213
• The holy water have they poisoned with their lustfulness; and when they called their filthy dreams delight, then poisoned they also the words. ¶1214
• Indignant becometh the flame when they put their damp hearts to the fire; the spirit itself bubbleth and smoketh when the rabble approach the fire. ¶1215
• Mawkish and over-mellow becometh the fruit in their hands: unsteady, and withered at the top, doth their look make the fruit-tree. ¶1216
• And many a one who hath turned away from life, hath only turned away from the rabble: he hated to share with them fountain, flame, and fruit. ¶1217
• And many a one who hath gone into the wilderness and suffered thirst with beasts of prey, disliked only to sit at the cistern with filthy camel-drivers. ¶1218
• And many a one who hath come along as a destroyer, and as a hailstorm to all cornfields, wanted merely to put his foot into the jaws of the rabble, and thus stop their throat. ¶1219
• And it is not the mouthful which hath most choked me, to know that life itself requireth enmity and death and torture-crosses:-- ¶1220
• But I asked once, and suffocated almost with my question: What? is the rabble also NECESSARY for life? ¶1221
• Are poisoned fountains necessary, and stinking fires, and filthy dreams, and maggots in the bread of life? ¶1222
• Not my hatred, but my loathing, gnawed hungrily at my life! Ah, ofttimes became I weary of spirit, when I found even the rabble spiritual! ¶1223
• And on the rulers turned I my back, when I saw what they now call ruling: to traffic and bargain for power--with the rabble! ¶1224
• Amongst peoples of a strange language did I dwell, with stopped ears: so that the language of their trafficking might remain strange unto me, and their bargaining for power. ¶1225
• And holding my nose, I went morosely through all yesterdays and to-days: verily, badly smell all yesterdays and to-days of the scribbling rabble! ¶1226
• Like a cripple become deaf, and blind, and dumb--thus have I lived long; that I might not live with the power-rabble, the scribe-rabble, and the pleasure-rabble. ¶1227
• Toilsomely did my spirit mount stairs, and cautiously; alms of delight were its refreshment; on the staff did life creep along with the blind one. ¶1228
• What hath happened unto me? How have I freed myself from loathing? Who hath rejuvenated mine eye? How have I flown to the height where no rabble any longer sit at the wells? ¶1229
• Did my loathing itself create for me wings and fountain-divining powers? Verily, to the loftiest height had I to fly, to find again the well of delight! ¶1230
• Oh, I have found it, my brethren! Here on the loftiest height bubbleth up for me the well of delight! And there is a life at whose waters none of the rabble drink with me! ¶1231
• Almost too violently dost thou flow for me, thou fountain of delight! And often emptiest thou the goblet again, in wanting to fill it! ¶1232
• And yet must I learn to approach thee more modestly: far too violently doth my heart still flow towards thee:-- ¶1233
• My heart on which my summer burneth, my short, hot, melancholy, over-happy summer: how my summer heart longeth for thy coolness! ¶1234
• Past, the lingering distress of my spring! Past, the wickedness of my snowflakes in June! Summer have I become entirely, and summer-noontide! ¶1235
• A summer on the loftiest height, with cold fountains and blissful stillness: oh, come, my friends, that the stillness may become more blissful! ¶1236

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