Thus Spake Zarathustra — Friedrich Nietzsche

Thus Spake Zarathustra

Friedrich Nietzsche · Лицензия: Public domain · Источник

• Especially the human world, the human sea:--towards IT do I now throw out my golden angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss! ¶2958
• Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining crabs! With my best bait shall I allure to myself to-day the strangest human fish! ¶2959
• --My happiness itself do I throw out into all places far and wide 'twixt orient, noontide, and occident, to see if many human fish will not learn to hug and tug at my happiness;-- ¶2960
• Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they have to come up unto MY height, the motleyest abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers of men. ¶2961
• For THIS am I from the heart and from the beginning--drawing, hither-drawing, upward-drawing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training-master, who not in vain counselled himself once on a time: "Become what thou art!" ¶2962
• Thus may men now come UP to me; for as yet do I await the signs that it is time for my down-going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must do, amongst men. ¶2963
• Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful upon high mountains, no impatient one, no patient one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,--because he no longer "suffereth." ¶2964
• For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten me perhaps? Or doth it sit behind a big stone and catch flies? ¶2965
• And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal fate, because it doth not hound and hurry me, but leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so that I have to-day ascended this high mountain to catch fish. ¶2966
• Did ever any one catch fish upon high mountains? And though it be a folly what I here seek and do, it is better so than that down below I should become solemn with waiting, and green and yellow-- ¶2967
• --A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy howl-storm from the mountains, an impatient one that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken, else I will scourge you with the scourge of God!" ¶2968
• Not that I would have a grudge against such wrathful ones on that account: they are well enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they now be, those big alarm-drums, which find a voice now or never! ¶2969
• Myself, however, and my fate--we do not talk to the Present, neither do we talk to the Never: for talking we have patience and time and more than time. For one day must it yet come, and may not pass by. ¶2970
• What must one day come and may not pass by? Our great Hazar, that is to say, our great, remote human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a thousand years-- ¶2971
• How remote may such "remoteness" be? What doth it concern me? But on that account it is none the less sure unto me--, with both feet stand I secure on this ground; ¶2972
• --On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on this highest, hardest, primary mountain-ridge, unto which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting, asking Where? and Whence? and Whither? ¶2973
• Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wickedness! From high mountains cast down thy glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with thy glittering the finest human fish! ¶2974
• And whatever belongeth unto ME in all seas, my in-and-for-me in all things--fish THAT out for me, bring THAT up to me: for that do I wait, the wickedest of all fish-catchers. ¶2975
• Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou bait of my happiness! Drip thy sweetest dew, thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook, into the belly of all black affliction! ¶2976
• Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many seas round about me, what dawning human futures! And above me--what rosy red stillness! What unclouded silence! ¶2977
• "Thou ill announcer," said Zarathustra at last, "that is a cry of distress, and the cry of a man; it may come perhaps out of a black sea. But what doth human distress matter to me! My last sin which hath been reserved for me,--knowest thou what it is called?" ¶2982
• --"PITY!" answered the soothsayer from an overflowing heart, and raised both his hands aloft--"O Zarathustra, I have come that I may seduce thee to thy last sin!"-- ¶2983
• And hardly had those words been uttered when there sounded the cry once more, and longer and more alarming than before--also much nearer. "Hearest thou? Hearest thou, O Zarathustra?" called out the soothsayer, "the cry concerneth thee, it calleth thee: Come, come, come; it is time, it is the highest time!"-- ¶2984
• Zarathustra was silent thereupon, confused and staggered; at last he asked, like one who hesitateth in himself: "And who is it that there calleth me?" ¶2985
• "But thou knowest it, certainly," answered the soothsayer warmly, "why dost thou conceal thyself? It is THE HIGHER MAN that crieth for thee!" ¶2986
• "The higher man?" cried Zarathustra, horror-stricken: "what wanteth HE? What wanteth HE? The higher man! What wanteth he here?"--and his skin covered with perspiration. ¶2987
• The soothsayer, however, did not heed Zarathustra's alarm, but listened and listened in the downward direction. When, however, it had been still there for a long while, he looked behind, and saw Zarathustra standing trembling. ¶2988
• "O Zarathustra," he began, with sorrowful voice, "thou dost not stand there like one whose happiness maketh him giddy: thou wilt have to dance lest thou tumble down! ¶2989
• But although thou shouldst dance before me, and leap all thy side-leaps, no one may say unto me: 'Behold, here danceth the last joyous man!' ¶2990
• In vain would any one come to this height who sought HIM here: caves would he find, indeed, and back-caves, hiding-places for hidden ones; but not lucky mines, nor treasure-chambers, nor new gold-veins of happiness. ¶2991
• Happiness--how indeed could one find happiness among such buried-alive and solitary ones! Must I yet seek the last happiness on the Happy Isles, and far away among forgotten seas? ¶2992
• But all is alike, nothing is worth while, no seeking is of service, there are no longer any Happy Isles!"-- ¶2993
• Cease to splash THEREON, thou rain-cloud of the forenoon! Do I not already stand here wet with thy misery, and drenched like a dog? ¶2995
• Now do I shake myself and run away from thee, that I may again become dry: thereat mayest thou not wonder! Do I seem to thee discourteous? Here however is MY court. ¶2996
• But as regards the higher man: well! I shall seek him at once in those forests: FROM THENCE came his cry. Perhaps he is there hard beset by an evil beast. ¶2997
• He is in MY domain: therein shall he receive no scath! And verily, there are many evil beasts about me."-- ¶2998
• With those words Zarathustra turned around to depart. Then said the soothsayer: "O Zarathustra, thou art a rogue! ¶2999
• I know it well: thou wouldst fain be rid of me! Rather wouldst thou run into the forest and lay snares for evil beasts! ¶3000
• But what good will it do thee? In the evening wilt thou have me again: in thine own cave will I sit, patient and heavy like a block--and wait for thee!" ¶3001
• "So be it!" shouted back Zarathustra, as he went away: "and what is mine in my cave belongeth also unto thee, my guest! ¶3002

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