Thus Spake Zarathustra [69]
and doubts fly past me.
For frost and winter I now longed: "Oh, that frost and winter would again make me crack and crunch!" sighed I:--then arose icy mist out of me.
My past burst its tomb, many pains buried alive woke up--: fully slept had they merely, concealed in corpse-clothes.
So called everything unto me in signs: "It is time!" But I--heard not, until at last mine abyss moved, and my thought bit me.
Ah, abysmal thought, which art MY thought! When shall I find strength to hear thee burrowing, and no longer tremble?
To my very throat throbbeth my heart when I hear thee burrowing! Thy muteness even is like to strangle me, thou abysmal mute one!
As yet have I never ventured to call thee UP; it hath been enough that I-- have carried thee about with me! As yet have I not been strong enough for my final lion-wantonness and playfulness.
Sufficiently formidable unto me hath thy weight ever been: but one day shall I yet find the strength and the lion's voice which will call thee up!
When I shall have surmounted myself therein, then will I surmount myself also in that which is greater; and a VICTORY shall be the seal of my perfection!--
Meanwhile do I sail along on uncertain seas; chance flattereth me, smooth- tongued chance; forward and backward do I gaze--, still see I no end.
As yet hath the hour of my final struggle not come to me--or doth it come to me perhaps just now? Verily, with insidious beauty do sea and life gaze upon me round about:
O afternoon of my life! O happiness before eventide! O haven upon high seas! O peace in uncertainty! How I distrust all of you!
Verily, distrustful am I of your insidious beauty! Like the lover am I, who distrusteth too sleek smiling.
As he pusheth the best-beloved before him--tender even in severity, the jealous one--, so do I push this blissful hour before me.
Away with thee, thou blissful hour! With thee hath there come to me an involuntary bliss! Ready for my severest pain do I here stand:--at the wrong time hast thou come!
Away with thee, thou blissful hour! Rather harbour there--with my children! Hasten! and bless them before eventide with MY happiness!
There, already approacheth eventide: the sun sinketh. Away--my happiness!--
Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole night; but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: "Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman."
XLVIII. BEFORE SUNRISE.
O heaven above me, thou pure, thou deep heaven! Thou abyss of light! Gazing on thee, I tremble with divine desires.
Up to thy height to toss myself--that is MY depth! In thy purity to hide myself--that is MINE innocence!
The God veileth his beauty: thus hidest thou thy stars. Thou speakest not: THUS proclaimest thou thy wisdom unto me.
Mute o'er the raging sea hast thou risen for me to-day; thy love and thy modesty make a revelation unto my raging soul.
In that thou camest unto me beautiful, veiled in thy beauty, in that thou spakest unto me mutely, obvious in thy wisdom:
Oh, how could I fail to divine all the modesty of thy soul! BEFORE the sun didst thou come unto me--the lonesomest one.
We have been friends from the beginning: to us are grief, gruesomeness, and ground common; even the sun is common to us.
We do not speak to each other, because we know too much--: we keep silent to each other, we smile our knowledge to each other.
Art thou not the light of my fire? Hast thou not the sister-soul of mine insight?
Together did we learn everything; together did we learn to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves, and to smile uncloudedly:--
--Uncloudedly to smile down out of luminous eyes and out of miles of distance, when under us constraint and purpose and guilt steam like rain.
And wandered I alone, for WHAT did my soul hunger by night and in
For frost and winter I now longed: "Oh, that frost and winter would again make me crack and crunch!" sighed I:--then arose icy mist out of me.
My past burst its tomb, many pains buried alive woke up--: fully slept had they merely, concealed in corpse-clothes.
So called everything unto me in signs: "It is time!" But I--heard not, until at last mine abyss moved, and my thought bit me.
Ah, abysmal thought, which art MY thought! When shall I find strength to hear thee burrowing, and no longer tremble?
To my very throat throbbeth my heart when I hear thee burrowing! Thy muteness even is like to strangle me, thou abysmal mute one!
As yet have I never ventured to call thee UP; it hath been enough that I-- have carried thee about with me! As yet have I not been strong enough for my final lion-wantonness and playfulness.
Sufficiently formidable unto me hath thy weight ever been: but one day shall I yet find the strength and the lion's voice which will call thee up!
When I shall have surmounted myself therein, then will I surmount myself also in that which is greater; and a VICTORY shall be the seal of my perfection!--
Meanwhile do I sail along on uncertain seas; chance flattereth me, smooth- tongued chance; forward and backward do I gaze--, still see I no end.
As yet hath the hour of my final struggle not come to me--or doth it come to me perhaps just now? Verily, with insidious beauty do sea and life gaze upon me round about:
O afternoon of my life! O happiness before eventide! O haven upon high seas! O peace in uncertainty! How I distrust all of you!
Verily, distrustful am I of your insidious beauty! Like the lover am I, who distrusteth too sleek smiling.
As he pusheth the best-beloved before him--tender even in severity, the jealous one--, so do I push this blissful hour before me.
Away with thee, thou blissful hour! With thee hath there come to me an involuntary bliss! Ready for my severest pain do I here stand:--at the wrong time hast thou come!
Away with thee, thou blissful hour! Rather harbour there--with my children! Hasten! and bless them before eventide with MY happiness!
There, already approacheth eventide: the sun sinketh. Away--my happiness!--
Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole night; but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: "Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman."
XLVIII. BEFORE SUNRISE.
O heaven above me, thou pure, thou deep heaven! Thou abyss of light! Gazing on thee, I tremble with divine desires.
Up to thy height to toss myself--that is MY depth! In thy purity to hide myself--that is MINE innocence!
The God veileth his beauty: thus hidest thou thy stars. Thou speakest not: THUS proclaimest thou thy wisdom unto me.
Mute o'er the raging sea hast thou risen for me to-day; thy love and thy modesty make a revelation unto my raging soul.
In that thou camest unto me beautiful, veiled in thy beauty, in that thou spakest unto me mutely, obvious in thy wisdom:
Oh, how could I fail to divine all the modesty of thy soul! BEFORE the sun didst thou come unto me--the lonesomest one.
We have been friends from the beginning: to us are grief, gruesomeness, and ground common; even the sun is common to us.
We do not speak to each other, because we know too much--: we keep silent to each other, we smile our knowledge to each other.
Art thou not the light of my fire? Hast thou not the sister-soul of mine insight?
Together did we learn everything; together did we learn to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves, and to smile uncloudedly:--
--Uncloudedly to smile down out of luminous eyes and out of miles of distance, when under us constraint and purpose and guilt steam like rain.
And wandered I alone, for WHAT did my soul hunger by night and in