Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · Licencia: Public domain · Fuente

• Thou goest the way to thy greatness: it must now be thy best courage that there is no longer any path behind thee! ¶1920
• Thou goest the way to thy greatness: here shall no one steal after thee! Thy foot itself hath effaced the path behind thee, and over it standeth written: Impossibility. ¶1921
• And if all ladders henceforth fail thee, then must thou learn to mount upon thine own head: how couldst thou mount upward otherwise? ¶1922
• Upon thine own head, and beyond thine own heart! Now must the gentlest in thee become the hardest. ¶1923
• He who hath always much-indulged himself, sickeneth at last by his much-indulgence. Praises on what maketh hardy! I do not praise the land where butter and honey--flow! ¶1924
• To learn TO LOOK AWAY FROM oneself, is necessary in order to see MANY THINGS:--this hardiness is needed by every mountain-climber. ¶1925
• He, however, who is obtrusive with his eyes as a discerner, how can he ever see more of anything than its foreground! ¶1926
• But thou, O Zarathustra, wouldst view the ground of everything, and its background: thus must thou mount even above thyself--up, upwards, until thou hast even thy stars UNDER thee! ¶1927
• Yea! To look down upon myself, and even upon my stars: that only would I call my SUMMIT, that hath remained for me as my LAST summit!-- ¶1928
• I recognise my destiny, said he at last, sadly. Well! I am ready. Now hath my last lonesomeness begun. ¶1930
• Ah, this sombre, sad sea, below me! Ah, this sombre nocturnal vexation! Ah, fate and sea! To you must I now GO DOWN! ¶1931
• Before my highest mountain do I stand, and before my longest wandering: therefore must I first go deeper down than I ever ascended: ¶1932
• --Deeper down into pain than I ever ascended, even into its darkest flood! So willeth my fate. Well! I am ready. ¶1933
• Whence come the highest mountains? so did I once ask. Then did I learn that they come out of the sea. ¶1934
• That testimony is inscribed on their stones, and on the walls of their summits. Out of the deepest must the highest come to its height.-- ¶1935
• Thus spake Zarathustra on the ridge of the mountain where it was cold: when, however, he came into the vicinity of the sea, and at last stood alone amongst the cliffs, then had he become weary on his way, and eagerer than ever before. ¶1936
• Everything as yet sleepeth, said he; even the sea sleepeth. Drowsily and strangely doth its eye gaze upon me. ¶1937
• But it breatheth warmly--I feel it. And I feel also that it dreameth. It tosseth about dreamily on hard pillows. ¶1938
• Hark! Hark! How it groaneth with evil recollections! Or evil expectations? ¶1939
• Ah, I am sad along with thee, thou dusky monster, and angry with myself even for thy sake. ¶1940
• Ah, that my hand hath not strength enough! Gladly, indeed, would I free thee from evil dreams!-- ¶1941
• And while Zarathustra thus spake, he laughed at himself with melancholy and bitterness. What! Zarathustra, said he, wilt thou even sing consolation to the sea? ¶1942
• Ah, thou amiable fool, Zarathustra, thou too-blindly confiding one! But thus hast thou ever been: ever hast thou approached confidently all that is terrible. ¶1943
• Every monster wouldst thou caress. A whiff of warm breath, a little soft tuft on its paw--: and immediately wert thou ready to love and lure it. ¶1944
• LOVE is the danger of the lonesomest one, love to anything, IF IT ONLY LIVE! Laughable, verily, is my folly and my modesty in love!-- ¶1945
• Thus spake Zarathustra, and laughed thereby a second time. Then, however, he thought of his abandoned friends--and as if he had done them a wrong with his thoughts, he upbraided himself because of his thoughts. And forthwith it came to pass that the laugher wept--with anger and longing wept Zarathustra bitterly. ¶1946
• To you, the daring venturers and adventurers, and whoever hath embarked with cunning sails upon frightful seas,-- ¶1950
• To you the enigma-intoxicated, the twilight-enjoyers, whose souls are allured by flutes to every treacherous gulf: ¶1951
• --For ye dislike to grope at a thread with cowardly hand; and where ye can DIVINE, there do ye hate to CALCULATE-- ¶1952
• To you only do I tell the enigma that I SAW--the vision of the lonesomest one.-- ¶1953
• Gloomily walked I lately in corpse-coloured twilight--gloomily and sternly, with compressed lips. Not only one sun had set for me. ¶1954
• A path which ascended daringly among boulders, an evil, lonesome path, which neither herb nor shrub any longer cheered, a mountain-path, crunched under the daring of my foot. ¶1955
• Mutely marching over the scornful clinking of pebbles, trampling the stone that let it slip: thus did my foot force its way upwards. ¶1956
• Upwards:--in spite of the spirit that drew it downwards, towards the abyss, the spirit of gravity, my devil and arch-enemy. ¶1957
• Upwards:--although it sat upon me, half-dwarf, half-mole; paralysed, paralysing; dripping lead in mine ear, and thoughts like drops of lead into my brain. ¶1958
• "O Zarathustra," it whispered scornfully, syllable by syllable, "thou stone of wisdom! Thou threwest thyself high, but every thrown stone must--fall! ¶1959
• O Zarathustra, thou stone of wisdom, thou sling-stone, thou star-destroyer! Thyself threwest thou so high,--but every thrown stone--must fall! ¶1960
• Condemned of thyself, and to thine own stoning: O Zarathustra, far indeed threwest thou thy stone--but upon THYSELF will it recoil!" ¶1961
• Then was the dwarf silent; and it lasted long. The silence, however, oppressed me; and to be thus in pairs, one is verily lonesomer than when alone! ¶1962
• I ascended, I ascended, I dreamt, I thought,--but everything oppressed me. A sick one did I resemble, whom bad torture wearieth, and a worse dream reawakeneth out of his first sleep.-- ¶1963

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