Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · الترخيص: Public domain · المصدر

• And never yet could ye cast your spirit into a pit of snow: ye are not hot enough for that! Thus are ye unaware, also, of the delight of its coldness. ¶1321
• In all respects, however, ye make too familiar with the spirit; and out of wisdom have ye often made an almshouse and a hospital for bad poets. ¶1322
• Ye are not eagles: thus have ye never experienced the happiness of the alarm of the spirit. And he who is not a bird should not camp above abysses. ¶1323
• Ye seem to me lukewarm ones: but coldly floweth all deep knowledge. Ice-cold are the innermost wells of the spirit: a refreshment to hot hands and handlers. ¶1324
• Respectable do ye there stand, and stiff, and with straight backs, ye famous wise ones!--no strong wind or will impelleth you. ¶1325
• Have ye ne'er seen a sail crossing the sea, rounded and inflated, and trembling with the violence of the wind? ¶1326
• Like the sail trembling with the violence of the spirit, doth my wisdom cross the sea--my wild wisdom! ¶1327
• But ye servants of the people, ye famous wise ones--how COULD ye go with me!-- ¶1328
• 'Tis night: now do all gushing fountains speak louder. And my soul also is a gushing fountain. ¶1331
• 'Tis night: now only do all songs of the loving ones awake. And my soul also is the song of a loving one. ¶1332
• Something unappeased, unappeasable, is within me; it longeth to find expression. A craving for love is within me, which speaketh itself the language of love. ¶1333
• Light am I: ah, that I were night! But it is my lonesomeness to be begirt with light! ¶1334
• Ah, that I were dark and nightly! How would I suck at the breasts of light! ¶1335
• And you yourselves would I bless, ye twinkling starlets and glow-worms aloft!--and would rejoice in the gifts of your light. ¶1336
• But I live in mine own light, I drink again into myself the flames that break forth from me. ¶1337
• I know not the happiness of the receiver; and oft have I dreamt that stealing must be more blessed than receiving. ¶1338
• It is my poverty that my hand never ceaseth bestowing; it is mine envy that I see waiting eyes and the brightened nights of longing. ¶1339
• Oh, the misery of all bestowers! Oh, the darkening of my sun! Oh, the craving to crave! Oh, the violent hunger in satiety! ¶1340
• They take from me: but do I yet touch their soul? There is a gap 'twixt giving and receiving; and the smallest gap hath finally to be bridged over. ¶1341
• A hunger ariseth out of my beauty: I should like to injure those I illumine; I should like to rob those I have gifted:--thus do I hunger for wickedness. ¶1342
• Withdrawing my hand when another hand already stretcheth out to it; hesitating like the cascade, which hesitateth even in its leap:--thus do I hunger for wickedness! ¶1343
• Such revenge doth mine abundance think of: such mischief welleth out of my lonesomeness. ¶1344
• My happiness in bestowing died in bestowing; my virtue became weary of itself by its abundance! ¶1345
• He who ever bestoweth is in danger of losing his shame; to him who ever dispenseth, the hand and heart become callous by very dispensing. ¶1346
• Mine eye no longer overfloweth for the shame of suppliants; my hand hath become too hard for the trembling of filled hands. ¶1347
• Whence have gone the tears of mine eye, and the down of my heart? Oh, the lonesomeness of all bestowers! Oh, the silence of all shining ones! ¶1348
• Many suns circle in desert space: to all that is dark do they speak with their light--but to me they are silent. ¶1349
• Oh, this is the hostility of light to the shining one: unpityingly doth it pursue its course. ¶1350
• Unfair to the shining one in its innermost heart, cold to the suns:--thus travelleth every sun. ¶1351
• Like a storm do the suns pursue their courses: that is their travelling. Their inexorable will do they follow: that is their coldness. ¶1352
• Oh, ye only is it, ye dark, nightly ones, that extract warmth from the shining ones! Oh, ye only drink milk and refreshment from the light's udders! ¶1353
• Ah, there is ice around me; my hand burneth with the iciness! Ah, there is thirst in me; it panteth after your thirst! ¶1354
• 'Tis night: alas, that I have to be light! And thirst for the nightly! And lonesomeness! ¶1355
• 'Tis night: now doth my longing break forth in me as a fountain,--for speech do I long. ¶1356
• 'Tis night: now do all gushing fountains speak louder. And my soul also is a gushing fountain. ¶1357
• 'Tis night: now do all songs of loving ones awake. And my soul also is the song of a loving one.-- ¶1358
• Cease not your dancing, ye lovely maidens! No game-spoiler hath come to you with evil eye, no enemy of maidens. ¶1362
• God's advocate am I with the devil: he, however, is the spirit of gravity. How could I, ye light-footed ones, be hostile to divine dances? Or to maidens' feet with fine ankles? ¶1363
• To be sure, I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses. ¶1364
• And even the little God may he find, who is dearest to maidens: beside the well lieth he quietly, with closed eyes. ¶1365

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