Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · الترخيص: Public domain · المصدر

• To kill ME, did they strangle you, ye singing birds of my hopes! Yea, at you, ye dearest ones, did malice ever shoot its arrows--to hit my heart! ¶1408
• And they hit it! Because ye were always my dearest, my possession and my possessedness: ON THAT ACCOUNT had ye to die young, and far too early! ¶1409
• At my most vulnerable point did they shoot the arrow--namely, at you, whose skin is like down--or more like the smile that dieth at a glance! ¶1410
• But this word will I say unto mine enemies: What is all manslaughter in comparison with what ye have done unto me! ¶1411
• Worse evil did ye do unto me than all manslaughter; the irretrievable did ye take from me:--thus do I speak unto you, mine enemies! ¶1412
• Slew ye not my youth's visions and dearest marvels! My playmates took ye from me, the blessed spirits! To their memory do I deposit this wreath and this curse. ¶1413
• This curse upon you, mine enemies! Have ye not made mine eternal short, as a tone dieth away in a cold night! Scarcely, as the twinkle of divine eyes, did it come to me--as a fleeting gleam! ¶1414
• Thus spake once in a happy hour my purity: "Divine shall everything be unto me." ¶1415
• Then did ye haunt me with foul phantoms; ah, whither hath that happy hour now fled! ¶1416
• "All days shall be holy unto me"--so spake once the wisdom of my youth: verily, the language of a joyous wisdom! ¶1417
• But then did ye enemies steal my nights, and sold them to sleepless torture: ah, whither hath that joyous wisdom now fled? ¶1418
• Once did I long for happy auspices: then did ye lead an owl-monster across my path, an adverse sign. Ah, whither did my tender longing then flee? ¶1419
• All loathing did I once vow to renounce: then did ye change my nigh ones and nearest ones into ulcerations. Ah, whither did my noblest vow then flee? ¶1420
• As a blind one did I once walk in blessed ways: then did ye cast filth on the blind one's course: and now is he disgusted with the old footpath. ¶1421
• And when I performed my hardest task, and celebrated the triumph of my victories, then did ye make those who loved me call out that I then grieved them most. ¶1422
• Verily, it was always your doing: ye embittered to me my best honey, and the diligence of my best bees. ¶1423
• To my charity have ye ever sent the most impudent beggars; around my sympathy have ye ever crowded the incurably shameless. Thus have ye wounded the faith of my virtue. ¶1424
• And when I offered my holiest as a sacrifice, immediately did your "piety" put its fatter gifts beside it: so that my holiest suffocated in the fumes of your fat. ¶1425
• And once did I want to dance as I had never yet danced: beyond all heavens did I want to dance. Then did ye seduce my favourite minstrel. ¶1426
• And now hath he struck up an awful, melancholy air; alas, he tooted as a mournful horn to mine ear! ¶1427
• Murderous minstrel, instrument of evil, most innocent instrument! Already did I stand prepared for the best dance: then didst thou slay my rapture with thy tones! ¶1428
• Only in the dance do I know how to speak the parable of the highest things:--and now hath my grandest parable remained unspoken in my limbs! ¶1429
• Unspoken and unrealised hath my highest hope remained! And there have perished for me all the visions and consolations of my youth! ¶1430
• How did I ever bear it? How did I survive and surmount such wounds? How did my soul rise again out of those sepulchres? ¶1431
• Yea, something invulnerable, unburiable is with me, something that would rend rocks asunder: it is called MY WILL. Silently doth it proceed, and unchanged throughout the years. ¶1432
• Its course will it go upon my feet, mine old Will; hard of heart is its nature and invulnerable. ¶1433
• Invulnerable am I only in my heel. Ever livest thou there, and art like thyself, thou most patient one! Ever hast thou burst all shackles of the tomb! ¶1434
• In thee still liveth also the unrealisedness of my youth; and as life and youth sittest thou here hopeful on the yellow ruins of graves. ¶1435
• Yea, thou art still for me the demolisher of all graves: Hail to thee, my Will! And only where there are graves are there resurrections.-- ¶1436
• "Will to Truth" do ye call it, ye wisest ones, that which impelleth you and maketh you ardent? ¶1439
• Will for the thinkableness of all being: thus do _I_ call your will! ¶1440
• All being would ye MAKE thinkable: for ye doubt with good reason whether it be already thinkable. ¶1441
• But it shall accommodate and bend itself to you! So willeth your will. Smooth shall it become and subject to the spirit, as its mirror and reflection. ¶1442
• That is your entire will, ye wisest ones, as a Will to Power; and even when ye speak of good and evil, and of estimates of value. ¶1443
• Ye would still create a world before which ye can bow the knee: such is your ultimate hope and ecstasy. ¶1444
• The ignorant, to be sure, the people--they are like a river on which a boat floateth along: and in the boat sit the estimates of value, solemn and disguised. ¶1445
• Your will and your valuations have ye put on the river of becoming; it betrayeth unto me an old Will to Power, what is believed by the people as good and evil. ¶1446
• It was ye, ye wisest ones, who put such guests in this boat, and gave them pomp and proud names--ye and your ruling Will! ¶1447
• Onward the river now carrieth your boat: it MUST carry it. A small matter if the rough wave foameth and angrily resisteth its keel! ¶1448
• It is not the river that is your danger and the end of your good and evil, ye wisest ones: but that Will itself, the Will to Power--the unexhausted, procreating life-will. ¶1449

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