Chapter 92 third shadow

The willing beggar had just hurried away, and Zarathustra was alone again.Then he heard a new cry behind him: "Halt! Zarathustra, wait a moment! It is I, verily, O Zarathustra, it is I, thy shadow! ’ But Zarathustra did not stand still; suddenly he became irritated by the support and noise on the hill. "Where is my loneliness?" he said. "Verily, that is too much; the swarms of the hills; my kingdom is no longer in this world; I need new hills. Does my shadow call me?What is my shadow!Let it chase me!I would - ran away from it! " Thus said Zarathustra in his heart, and ran on.But the shadow pressed on him.So there were then three runners, one after the other—that is, first, the willing beggar, second, Zarathustra, and third, his shadow.But after they had run away, Zarathustra gradually felt his stupidity, and his anger and hatred were at once relieved.

"What!" said he, "doesn't the most sudden things always happen between us old hermits and saints? Verily, my folly once grew up in the mountains!Now I hear six old fool's legs chasing each other! Shall Zarathustra fear his shadow?After all, I thought, it had longer legs than me. " Thus saith Zarathustra, heart and eyes full of joy, standing still, and turning hastily—behold, with this he almost threw his shadow to the ground, which so closely followed His heels, he was so weak.Zarathustra looked at the shadow gravely, as if struck by the sudden appearance of this follower, so thin, swarthy, hollow, and withered.

"Who are you?" asked Zarathustra fervently, "what do you do here? Why do you call yourself my shadow?You do not please me. " "Forgive me," replied the Shadow, "that is I; and if I cannot please you—then, O Zarathustra! I praise you and your fine taste. I am a wanderer, I have followed your heels; always walking, but without aim and destination: so I am not a Jew, nor a perpetual, but I am no different from a perpetual wanderer Jewish. how?Do I have to walk forever?Must be blown by all strong winds, uncertain, wandering in all directions?O earth, you are too round for me!

I have fallen on all planes like languid sand, I have slept on all mirrors and windows: take everything from me and give me nothing; I grow thinner.I was almost a phantom. O Zarathustra, long have I traveled with you; though I hid myself from you, I was still your best shadow: where you were, I was also. You and I roam the remotest and coldest worlds, like voluntarily dreaming of winter roofs and ghosts in snow.I go with you into all forbidden places, all the worst and furthest places: if I have any virtue, it is that I fear no prohibitions. You and I smashed what my heart honored; I tore down all boundary stones and idols; I chased the most dangerous desires—truly, I crossed all evils.

Neither you nor I have learned faith, words and worth and great names.When the devil casts off his skin, does not his name also peel off?Because that's skin too. Or the evil spirit itself is just a piece of skin. 'Nothing is real, everything is legal': so I say to myself.I throw my body and mind into the coldest water.O, therefore how I used to stand there naked, like a red crab. O, where are all my goodness, all my shame, all my belief in goodness!O, where have all my deceitful innocence, the innocence of the good and the noble hypocrisy of the good have gone! Verily, I have often followed the heels of truth!The heel of truth kicked my head.Sometimes I think I'm lying, but behold!Only then did I hit -- the truth.

Many things revealed to me!Now I ignore it.What I love is no more—how can I love myself? 'Live as I love, or not at all'!So I will; so will even the holiest, but alas, how can I still have what I love? Do I still have a purpose?Is there a harbor to which my sails push? Is there still a good wind?Only he who knows where he is sailing knows the good wind, the tail wind that is good for him. What is left for me?A weary and restless heart; a restless will; erratic wings; a broken spine. This seeks my home; O Zarathustra, do you know this seeks me; it devours me. 'Where is my home? 'I inquired and searched, searched, but did not find, oh where eternal joy goes, oh eternal nowhere, oh eternal--in vain! "

Thus spoke the Shadow, and Zarathustra grimaced at his words. "You are his shadow!" he said earnestly at last. "You free spirit and wanderer, you are in no small danger! You have bad days: beware of worse nights! For homeless people like you, it seems that prison is happiness.Have you seen how the captive sinner sleeps?They sleep peacefully, they enjoy their new security. Beware, I am afraid that in the end, a narrow belief, a ruthless, cruel temptation will capture you!Because everything that is narrow and fixed is tempting you and testing you now. You have lost your purpose.Alas, how can you get rid of that loss?Therefore - you also lose your access!

You poor wanderer and sentimentalist, you weary butterfly!Would you like a place to rest and a home tonight?Come to my cave, if you like! That's the way to my cave.I'm leaving you now.It's like a shadow has already attached to me. I would like to run alone to make my surroundings bright again.So I have to go far and be happy.But dance with me there in the evening! "— Thus spake Zarathustra.