Chapter 44 Thus Spoke Zarathustra Book Five

thus spoke Zarathustra volume five Visions and Mysteries one When the sailors knew that Zarathustra was on board—because at the same time another person from the Isle of Happiness was also crossing in this boat—they all had a great anticipation and curiosity.But Zarathustra did not speak for two days, he was frozen and silenced by sorrow; he neither responded to glances nor answered questions.Till the next night, though he was still silent, his ears were reopened: for there were many strange adventures to hear on this ship that came from far and went farther.Zarathustra is the friend of all those who love long-distance travel and those who live with danger.look!As he was listening, his tongue finally loosened, and the ice in his heart finally thawed.So he began to say thus:

You brave seekers and explorers, you who sail with cunning sails on the dreadful sea— You who are drunk with mystery and lovers of twilight, you who let the flute lure your soul to treacherous bays:— For you would not take a thread with cowardly hands and grope; for if you could guess, you would never generalize. —— Only to you would I tell the riddle I have seen, - vision of the loneliest man - I've been biting my lip a bit melancholy lately walking in the gray dusk.Many suns have sunk for me. My way rises stubbornly through the denuded earth, a maliciously lonely grassless path: a mountain path that screams under my defiant footsteps.

My foot hoarsely walks over the mocking rustle of stones, crushing the stones that make it slippery: so it forces itself up. Upwards:—resisting dragged it down, to the spirit of the abyss, this severe spirit, my devil and mortal enemy. Upwards:--Though the severe spirit half-dwarf, half-mole sat upon me like a mole, and made my limbs feeble; while he poured drops of lead into my ears, and thoughts of lead drops into my brain. "O Zarathustra," he sneered bitterly, "you stone of wisdom! Throw yourself high into the air,—but every stone that is thrown must fall! O Zarathustra, you stone of wisdom, thrown stone, destroyer of planets!You throw yourself high into the air,—but every stone that is thrown must fall.

O Zarathustra, you are condemned to be struck down by your own stone: you throw the stone far away - but it falls on your own head! " Then the dwarf fell silent; and for a long time said nothing.The silence weighed on me; verily, though he and I were two, it was lonelier than if I were alone! I climbed, climbed, dreamed, thought,—but everything weighed on me.I am like a sick man who has just fallen asleep tired out of his bad pains, only to be awakened by a bad dream. —— But there is one thing in me called bravery: it has always been the slayer of disappointment.The brave bid me stop at last, and said: "Dwarf! You or I!"—

For bravery, bravery in attack, is the best slayer; in every attack there is joy in battle. But man is the bravest beast: so he overcomes all other beasts.He overcame all pain while the music of war played; but human pain is the deepest pain. Bravery also kills the dizziness beside the ravine: Where is man not beside the ravine?Didn't he just look -- and see the valley? Courage is the best slayer: it also slays mercy.Pity is the deepest abyss: one sees as deeply into pain as one sees into life. Courage, courage in attack, is the best slayer: it also slays death; Because it says, "Was this ever life? Well! Let's start again!"

In this maxim, the joys of battle are many.Let those who have ears hear. —— two "Stop, dwarf!" I said. "Me! Or you! But I am the stronger of the two: you do not know my deepest thoughts, you cannot harbor them!"— Then, what happened to lighten the burden on me: for the dwarf jumped off my shoulders, the negligent!He sat on a rock in front of me.There was a post just where we stood. "Dwarf! Look at this gate!" I said again: "It has two faces. Here two roads meet: but who has not yet come to the end of them. The long way back: stretches an eternity.The long way forward—

It is also an eternity. These two roads diverge from each other, and are in direct conflict:—and this gate is their meeting point.The name of the pillar gate is engraved on it: Setsuna. But if one follows either way,--goes forever: do you believe, dwarf, that the two ways will never conflict? " "Everything straight is a lie," the dwarf whispered contemptuously. "All truth is curved; time itself is a loop." "You, serious spirit!" I said angrily, "don't answer me lightly! Or I'll leave you crippled where you're sitting,--don't forget that I carry you to a high place!

Just look at this moment! "I continued." From this pillar of moments, a long and endless road goes backwards: behind us there is an eternity. Shouldn't the one who can run among all things have already completed that path?Shouldn't those who can reach in all things have already reached and completed and passed away? If everything has already existed: how do you explain this moment, dwarf? ——Shouldn’t this pillar gate already exist? Is not all things so intertwined, so that the moment holds all the future? And does it also determine itself? Therefore, those who can run among all things: they should follow the road ahead again! ——

This spider crawling under the moonlight, this moonlight, under the pillar whispering the eternal I and you of all things,—shouldn’t they all have existed? —Shouldn’t we come and run the road ahead again,—the long road haunted by ghosts?Shouldn't we come again for eternity? "— I say this in a fading voice: because I am afraid of my own thoughts and the thoughts after my thoughts.Suddenly I heard a dog barking next to us. Have I ever heard a dog bark like that?My mind ran backwards.yes!When I was a child, in my farthest childhood: —At that time, I once heard a dog bark like this.And I saw it trembling with its neck erect, in the deadest of midnights, in the midnights where dogs believe in ghosts:

—and I felt pity for it.Just then a full moon came out dead and still over the house, and it stood still, the glowing ball—on the flat roof as peacefully as on someone else's property:— So again this frightened the dog: for it also believed in thieves and ghosts.I heard it bark again, and I felt sorry for it again. Where is the dwarf now?What about the pillars?Where's the spider?And what about the whispers of everything?did i ever dreamDid I wake up?Suddenly I found myself standing alone among wild rocks, in the bleakest moonlight. But lying there alone!look!The shaggy dog ​​jumped and moaned. --it saw me approaching,--it barked again:--did I ever hear a dog bark like this for help?

Really, everything I saw then, I never saw.I saw a young shepherd panting, his face convulsed, his body writhing crookedly, a thick black snake hanging out of his mouth. Have I ever seen such utter loathing and ashen terror in a face?Maybe he was fast asleep?And the snake crawled into his throat—and gnawed. I dragged the snake with my hands, and I dragged:—in vain!My hand cannot drag it out of the shepherd's throat.Then a cry broke out from my mouth: "Bite! Bite! Bite off its head!Bite! "—thus cries out my terror, my hatred, my disgust, and my pity, and all my good and evil cry out from my mouth with one voice.— O brave seekers and explorers all around me!O you who sail with cunning sails on the dreadful sea!Lovers of mysteries! Solve for me the riddle of what I have seen, explain to me the vision of the lonely man! For it is a vision, a premonition:—what do I see in this parable?Who is the one who will come sooner or later? Who is the shepherd that the serpent keeps silent?Who is it that endures the darkest and most painful things? —But the shepherd did bite, as my call advised; he bit with all his might!He spat out the snake's head a long way: -- and jumped up himself. —— He was no longer a shepherd, nor a man,—he was transfigured, and had a halo.He is smiling!No one on earth has ever laughed like him! Ah, brothers, I hear an inhuman laugh, -- now a thirst, an insatiable longing, devours me. My longing for that laughter devours me: ah, how can I bear to live?How can I bear to die now? —— Thus spake Zarathustra. unexpected happiness Zarathustra floated across the sea with this mystery and pain in his heart.But when he parted from the Isle of Happiness and his friends, four days later, he had conquered his whole misery:—his triumphant heels were firmly planted upon his destiny.Then Zarathustra said to his joyful heart: I am lonely again now, as I would like to be, alone with the clear sky and the free sea; and the afternoon surrounds me again. Since the first time I found my friends, it was in an afternoon, and the second time was also in an afternoon: -- the most peaceful moment of all lights. For every happiness that still travels between heaven and earth seeks a bright soul for its shelter: happiness makes light stiller. O afternoon of my life!Once, too, my happiness descended into the valley, seeking a shelter: so it found those frank and benevolent souls. O afternoon of my life!I have sacrificed everything for that one thing: the living garden of my thought, and the morning twilight of my highest hope! Once the Creator sought Companions and His Children of Hope; then He learned that He could not find them without first creating them himself. So I was halfway through my work when I went to my children and returned to them: for these children Zarathustra must complete himself. For all one loves from the bottom of one's heart are one's own children and one's work; and where great self-love lies, there are signs of pregnancy: this is what I found. My children are green in their early springs, pressed against each other, blown by the same wind; these are the trees of my garden and my fattest ground.Really, the place where this kind of tree is densely planted is the island of happiness! But one day I will transplant them, and plant them separately: so that each may learn solitude, pride, and prudence. I want it gnarled, crooked, rigid and soft to stand by the sea, a living beacon of an insurmountable life. Where the great storm rushes to the sea, and where the proboscis of the mountain drinks the sea, each has its day and night watch in its turn, that it may be identified and tested. It must be recognized and tested, that it may be known to be of my race and posterity:--to be known to be the master of a long will, silent in speaking, and giving as it must be taken. :—— —that it shall be my companion in the future, the co-creator and the harvest-celebrator of Zarathustra:—the one who writes my will,—the fuller consummation of all things,—on my watch people. For it and its kind I must fulfill myself: so now I flee from happiness and give myself to all evil;--that I may be known and tested for the last time. Truly, the time has come for me to go; the traveler's shadow, the longest dwelling and the most silent hour--everything says to me: "Now is the time!" The wind blows in the keyhole, to me Said, "Come!" The door cunningly opened itself, and said to me, "Go!" But I was caught by my love for my children, my longing, my longing for love, set this trap for me, made me their captive, made me lose myself because of them. Longing—for me, is losing myself.Children, I possess you!In this possession there should be all security and no desire. But the sun of my love burns in my head, and Zarathustra burns in his own juices, - when shadows and doubts flew over me. Already I hope for frost and winter: "Oh, let frost and winter make me tremble again and make my teeth chatter!" I sigh: --then the ice mist rises from me. My past breaks from its grave, and many a living pain wakes:— They put on clothes and slept enough in their shrouds. So everything signals to me: "Now is the time!" But I don't hear it until my abyss shakes, before my thoughts bite me. O my thoughts, thoughts from the valley!When will I be able to hear your digging without trembling? My heart beats to my mouth when I hear you dig!You who are as silent as a deep valley, your silence will suffocate me! I never dared to call you to the face: I have had enough of you!I am not strong enough, without the last bravery and presumptuousness of a lion. Thy weight is enough to frighten me: but one day I shall have Lion Roar call you to the surface! When I have overcome myself in this; I shall overcome myself in a greater thing; and victory will be my stamp of completion! —— Till then I continued to roam on the uncertain sea; Chance, sweet chance, flattered me; The hour of my final duel has not yet come—perhaps it is coming now? Verily, sea and life look upon me with malicious beauty! what!Afternoon of my life!Happiness before breastfeeding!O anchorage in the sea!O peace amidst restlessness!How can I not believe you! Verily, I do not trust your malicious beauty!Like a lover, I distrust a smile that is too soft. As tenderly and resolutely as the envious pushes his pet away,— I, too, push away happy moments in the same way. Happy hour, leave me!You brought a happiness unexpectedly!But I was about to accept the deepest pain: ——Your arrival, what an inopportune time! Happy hour, leave me!Find your home rather in MY children!hurry up!Bless them with my happiness before breastfeeding! Evening is near: the sun has gone west.Go, -- my happiness! —— Thus spake Zarathustra.All night he waited for his doom: but in vain he waited.The night is still bright and quiet, but happiness is getting closer and closer.But as day was breaking Zarathustra laughed inwardly, and he said ironically: "Happiness pursues me. It is because I do not pursue a woman. And happiness is a woman." before sunrise O heaven above my head, O dregsless deep heaven!O valley of light!As I look at you, I tremble with divine hope. Leap to your height--that's my depth!Hidden in your innocence, - that is my innocence! God is hidden in his beauty: so you hide your planet.You don't speak!In this way you proclaim your wisdom to me. Today you came silently for me on the angry sea: your love and your shyness spoke to my exasperated soul. You come to me beautifully, hidden in your own beauty, you speak to me in wordless language, you reveal yourself with your wisdom: Ah, why have I not guessed all the shyness of your soul!Before sunrise, you came to me, to the loneliest here. We have always been good friends: we share our sorrows, our fears, our depths.The sun also belongs to both of us. We don't talk, because we know too much:—we look at each other in silence, and exchange our knowledge with smiles. Are you not the light from my fire?Are you not my sister soul of knowledge? The two of us have learned everything from classmates: how to surpass ourselves, how to sublimate ourselves and cloudless smiles:—— --smiling cloudlessly down with bright eyes from afar, while imprisoned, purpose and error steamed like rain below them. When I walk alone: ​​In the night, on the way of delusion, what sustenance does my soul need?When I climb the mountain, if I am not looking for you, who am I looking for on the top of the mountain?All my travels and ascents are but necessities and ill-advice of the clumsy man:—with all my will I want to fly alone—to you! What's more hateful than clouds that fly by and everything that makes you muddy?I even hate my own hate because it muddies you too! I hate those clouds that fly by, those rogue cats that crawl: they deprive us of what we both have in common,—an infinite certainty and amen. We both loathe those ambiguous and good-for-nothings, those clouds that fly by: they are incomplete, do not know to bless from the bottom of their hearts, and do not know to curse. I would rather hide in a bucket and see only a small patch of sky, rather flee in a deep valley with no sky at all than see you bright sky clouded by passing clouds! I have often longed to tie them with lightning-gold cords, that I might, like thunder, beat a drum on their pot-bellies:— — an angry drummer, because they stole your affirmation and amen from me!O sky above me, ditchless valley of light! —for they have stolen my affirmation and amen from you. For I like the noise, the thunder, and the curse of the storm, to the rest of the prudent and suspicious cat: and in crowds I hate most the faltering, the haphazard, and the hesitant passing cloud. "If you don't know blessing, you must learn to curse!"——This clear lesson came to me from the bright sky, and this planet shines in my sky in the dark night. But, I am a well-wisher and an affirmative, if you, O drossless heaven, O valley of light, are beside me! ——I send my affirmation and blessing to all abysses. I have become a blesser and an affirmer: and I have struggled for it, I have been a struggler, so that I have a hand free at last to bless. But my blessing is: above every thing, like its own sky, cupola, blue bell, and eternal faith: and whoever so blesses is blessed! For at the Fountain of Eternity all things were baptized beyond good and evil; and good and evil themselves are but fleeing shadows, the misery of the rainy day, and the passing cloud. Indeed, when I say: "Above all things there is a heaven of chance, of innocence, of chance, of presumptuousness": it is not a sacrilege but a blessing. "Accidentally,"--this is the oldest title of nobility in the world; I give it back to all things; liberated from the slavery of purpose. When I say: "There is no eternal will above or in all things," I place this freedom and this clear sky above all things like a blue bell. When I say: "One of all things is never possible,--reasonable," I place this arrogance and this madness in the place of this "eternal will"! Yes, a bit of reason, a seed of wisdom, from planet to planet,--this leaven is mixed in all things: wisdom is mixed in all things for madness! A little wisdom, indeed, is possible; but in all things I find blessed confidence: so that they would rather dance on the feet of -- chance. Ah, my God above my head!No dregs of high Shuang God!I think you are pure, because you have no spider of reason, no web of reason:— For you are a dance hall of divine chance, for you are a divine table of dice and gamblers! —— But you are blushing.Did I say something unspeakable?Did I want to bless, but turned against blasphemy? Or are you shy because of the two of us? —Tell me to go, say no more, for the day has come? The world is deep:--far deeper than the day can conceive.Many things should not be said before daylight.The day has come: let us part!Ah, my God above my head!Shy and passionate oh my! , O you, my happiness before sunrise!Day has come: let us part! Thus spake Zarathustra. dwarf morality one After Zarathustra landed, he did not go directly to his mountain and his cave, but he wandered about, asking this and that; The river that returns to its source!" Because he wanted to know: what happened in the world during the time he was gone!People get bigger or smaller.Once, he saw a row of new houses; he said in surprise: "What's the point of these houses? Truly, no great soul would build them for their own symbols! Maybe a stupid kid took it out of a toy box?I hope another kid puts them in the toy box again! These rooms: Can humans enter and exit?It seemed to me that they were made for silk dolls, or cats that were gluttonous and eaten. " Zarathustra stood for a moment in thought.Finally, he said sadly: "Everything is getting smaller! Here and there I saw low doors: a man of my height could pass through, but—he had to bow! Ah, when shall I return to my native land, where I have no bow,--where I have no bow to dwarfs? "-...Zarathustra sighed, looking far away.-- On this very day he gave a lecture on the morality of dwarves. two I walk among this people with my eyes open: they cannot forgive me for not enviing their morality. They barked at me because I said to them: Little morality is necessary for dwarves—because I never understood that the existence of dwarves is necessary. Here I am, like a rooster in a strange feedlot, and the hens peck me; but I hold no grudge against them for that. I am as polite to them as I am to little annoyances; I think it is the wisdom of a hedgehog to put up a spike on a small object. When sitting around the fire in the evening, they all talked about me. — they all speak of me; But no one ever thought about me! This is the new silence I have just learned: their tumult unfurls a cloak over my thoughts. They cried out to each other: "What does this cloud of sorrow want from us? Be careful that it does not bring us a contagious disease!" Recently a woman seized her child and kept him from approaching me: "Keep the children away," she cried; "These eyes burn the souls of children." They coughed when I spoke; they believed coughing against the gale;--and none of them guessed my happy breath! "We have no time for Zarathustra,"—thus they objected; but what is an age "no time" for Zarathustra worth? Even if they all praise me: shall I sleep on their praise?Their praise is to me a belt of thorns: even if I loose it, it still stings me. And this is what I learned from the crowd: the praiser pretends to repay, but in fact, he wants more! Ask my feet if they like the music of their praise and flattery!Indeed, it would not dance to the ticking time, nor would it stand still. They try to seduce me by extolling their little virtues; they try to convince my feet with little tick-tocks of happiness. I walked among this people, and opened my eyes: they have become smaller, and will be smaller: - their smaller, by their doctrine of happiness and morality. For morally they too are humble,—for they want to be at ease.But only the virtue of humility is reconciled with ease. True, they also learn to walk in their own way: this is what I call a limp. --Thus they are a hindrance to all busy people. Many of them looked back with stiff necks as they advanced: I would have bumped them. Feet and eyes should not tell lies, nor should they tell each other lies.But the lies of the gnomes are many. Some of them "will", most of them are "willed".Some are honest; most are bad actors. There are unconscious, unwilling actors among them—honest actors are rare, especially honest actors. They have little masculinity: so women masculinize themselves; only the fully masculine man can save the woman in woman. And this is the worst hypocrisy I have found among them: the Commander also pretends to be the morality of the Server. "I serve, you serve, and we serve."—Such is the hypocrisy of the rulers. —How unfortunate if the highest master is only the highest servant! Alas, my curious eyes have found their hypocrisy too; I have guessed the happiness of their flies and the camp on the sun-lit windows. Where there is an abundance of kindness, I see an equal amount of weakness.Where there is much justice and mercy, I have seen the same amount of weakness. Their mutual smoothness, fairness and deliberation are like smooth round grains, fairness and deliberation. Choose a little happiness humbly—this is what they call "safety"!At the same time, they have already modestly glanced sideways at another little happiness. In their stupidity, they want one thing most sincerely: that other people do not violate them.So they are considerate and good at dealing with others. But this is cowardice, although it is also called "morality". When the dwarves happened to speak roughly, I heard nothing but their cries,--for every gust of wind made their voices hoarse. They are cunning, their virtues have delicate fingers, but they have no fists: their fingers do not know how to bend into a fist. They think that morality can be tamed by all modesty: thus they make wolves into dogs, and men into the best domestic animals. "We put the chairs in the middle,"—their contented smiles told me:—"at the same distance between the dying gladiators and the happy piggies." But this is mediocrity: although this is also called temperance. —— three I have walked among this people and dropped many languages: but they know neither to take nor to keep them. They wondered that I did not come to scold licentiousness and evil; indeed, I did not come to teach people to beware of thieves! They wonder that I am not ready to instruct them and stimulate their wits: as if there were not enough cunning among them, yet the voice of the cunning rings like a pencil of stone! When I said, "Curse all cowardly devils upon you! They love to groan, and worship with folded hands." Then they cried, "Zarathustra is godless." And their professor of safety shouted louder;—but I was fond of crying into their ears: "Yes, I am Zarathustra the Godless!" These professors of safety!Where scabies and diseases are, they crawl like lice; my loathing prevents me from crushing them. Ok!This is what I preached to their ears: "I am Zarathustra, who is godless, I ask, who is more godless than I, whose teaching pleases me? I am godless Zarathustra, where are my like?My kind are those who give themselves a will and don't know what is called life. I am Godless Zarathustra, I cook all chances in an iron pot.I don't welcome it as my nourishment until the opportunity is cooked just right. Truly, many chances approached me with grace: but my will spoke to them with more dignity,—and at once they knelt before me:— And begging to find a home and a warm heart in me, and flatteringly say to me: Behold, Zarathustra, only a friend visits a friend in this way! " If anyone doesn't listen to me, why should I say more?So I will shout to the wind: "You dwarves, you will always be smaller! You easy ones, you will flake off like powder! You will die:-- Because of your many small morals, small omissions and small safety! You are too perfunctory and too condescending: this is the land where you grew up!But if a tree wants to grow tall, it must hold a hard rock and grow strong roots! What you omit is helping to weave the web of the future of humanity; your inaction is also a spider's web and a spider that lives on the blood of the future. Little virtuous ones, when you take it, it is like stealing; but, even to the cheater, honor has its place: only steal where it cannot be robbed. This is given. ——This is also a doctrine of safety.But I say to you who are at ease: it was taken, and it will be taken from you more and more! Oh, why don't you throw away your half-wills!Why do you not intend to be lazy as you intend to act! Alas, take my word for it!Do what you will,—but first be a man capable of will. Love your neighbor as yourself,--but first be self-love. —Become the one who loves oneself first with great love and great contempt! "Thus spake the heretic Zarathustra.— If anyone doesn't listen to me, why should I say more?It's too early for me at this time! In this people, I am my own precursor and chicken singing in the dark alley. But their time has come!My time has come too!Moment by moment they grow smaller, poorer, and sterile—poor pot grass and barren land! Soon I'll see them standing like hay and meadows, and really, get tired of myself too. -- They need fire rather than water! O blessed hour of thunder and fire!O mystery before noon! —— One day I made them a rushing fire, a seer whose tongue is flame:— —One day they will prophesy with tongues of fire: the great noon is coming, drawing near! Thus spake Zarathustra. on the mount of olives Winter, a wicked guest, sits with me at home; my hand grows pale with his friendly handshake. I respect the villain, but I like to let him sit alone.I like to run away, of course I run tight, I left him— With my warm feet and warm thoughts, I ran to the place where the wind died down—— To the sunlit corner of my Mount of Olives. There I laugh at my serious guest!But liked him too; for he cleared my house of flies, and quieted every little tumult. The buzzing of a mosquito or two does not hurt him; he silences all the roads, so even the moonlight at night feels terrible there. He was a stern guest,--but I honor him, and do not pray to him a fire-god like the feeble to the pot-belly. Even shivering from the cold is better than worshiping idols! —Those who are of my kind desire it.Especially I resent Vulcan, who is all smoky. My beloved, I loved him more in winter than in summer; I laughed at my enemies, and still more when winter now dwells in my house. Verily, more fervently, even when I climb into bed—: even then my secret happiness laughs and plays; even my deceitful dreams laugh. Am I a creeper?Never in my life have I crawled before power; if I lie down, I lie down for love.Therefore I rejoice even in my winter bed. A poor bed warms me more than a rich one, for I envy my poverty.My poverty is most faithful to me in severe winter. I begin my day with an evil; I mock winter with cold baths: thus my stern guest resents. I also like to shine a candle on him, so that in the end he makes the blue sky appear from the dark gray dawn. Especially in the morning I do evil: in the morning the buckets ring in the well, the horses steam in the ashes. —— Then I waited anxiously, until at last the clear sky appeared, this white-haired winter sky, this silent winter sky, which often even shuts out the winter sun! Did I learn from it my long clarifying silence?Or did it learn from me?Or do we invent our own? All good comes from a thousand sources--all mischief, exists for pleasure: how can they do it just once! A good and a bad is this long silence, and like the winter sky peeps with wide-open eyes from bright faces. --Smothered his own sun like the winter sky, Smothered his indomitable will of the sun: Verily, I have mastered this art and this winter's mischief-- That is my favorite trick and art, and my silence has learned not to betray itself by it. By chatter of words and dice, I outwit the stern expectant: it is my will and purpose to evade these stern watchers. No one can peer into my depths and my exhausted will - so I wish for myself long clear silences. I have seen many a wise man: he has covered his face, and made his waters muddy, so that no one may see the bottom. But the wiser unbeliever and the nutshell-breaker, was upon him: was about to catch from him the well-hidden fish. But to me the wisest silent ones are the bright, brave, transparent ones: so deep is their bottom that not even the clearest water reveals it--thy white-haired winter sky, You wide-eyed silent one! You are the celestial specimen of my soul and joy. Must I not hide myself like one who swallows up gold, lest they search out my soul? I must walk without stilts; so that the envious and mutilated around me will not notice my long legs? How could these souls, smoky, smothered, weary, musty, gloomy, bear my happiness with their envy! I would show them only the snow and winter on my peak,--not the mountains surrounded by my belt of the sun! They hear only the howling of my winter tempests: they do not know that I too have crossed warm seas like the South's hot winds. They pity my misfortunes and chances: but my way is this Let chances come!It is as innocent as a child! How can they bear my happiness, if I don't bring disaster.The misery of winter, the bearskin cap, and the snow coat, wrap it round it! If I did not pity the mercy of these envious and malicious ones! If only I hadn't breathed my last breath before them, and talked with the cold, and stoically let myself be surrounded by their mercy! Such is the clever mischief and benevolence of my soul, which does not hide its winters and snow winds; it does not even hide its chilblains. There is one kind of solitude which is a refuge for the sick; another is a safe-house from disease. All those poor squint-eyed rascals around me, let them hear me breathe for winter's chills and sighs! In such shudders and breaths I escaped from their stuffy house. Let them pity and lament for my chilblains: we shall see him freeze to death in the icehouse of knowledge! — so they lamented. Meanwhile I walk here and there on the Mount of Olives with blazing feet: in the sunlit corner of the Mount of Olives I sing, I mock mercy. —— Thus spake Zarathustra. leave Zarathustra traveled so sweatily through many peoples and different cities, and detoured back to his mountain and cave.But behold, in his journey he came to the gate of the great city.Here a foaming fool ran towards him with his hands outstretched, blocking his way.This is the fool that the people call "the ape of Zarathustra": for he had learned from Zarathustra a certain inflection and intonation of speech, and unconsciously borrowed from Zarathustra's wisdom. treasure.Thus said the fool to Zarathustra: O Zarathustra, here is the great city: here you lose everything and gain nothing. Why do you tread the dust here?Cherish your steps!Ning spit at the city gate and turn back! Here is the hell of all noble thoughts: here all great thoughts are tortured alive, boiled in pieces. Here all great sentiments wither: here is only the moaning of skeletons! Do you smell the spirit's kitchen and butcher shop?Is not here the heat of all slaughtered spirits? Don't you see those souls hanging like shriveled and dirty rags? But they make news out of these rags! Don't you hear how here the mind is a game of words?The spirit vomits the filth of obnoxious words!They also make news out of the filth of this speech. They chase each other and don't know where to go!They incite each other and don't know what to say!They tapped their golden copper, they clanged their gold. They fear the cold and seek warmth from distilled water!They fear the heat and seek coolness in their frozen spirits; they are all sick and wounded from public opinion. Here is the home of all greed and vice; but here is morality too; there are many useful, practical moralities. Many virtues have clerk's fingers and fat buttocks that can sit and wait, and take pride in adorning the breasts and waists of girls. Here, in front of the god of the army, there are also many tigers, many orthodox religions, and they practice flattery. "From above fell medals and the spit of glory; so those who have no medals look up. The moon has its own court, and the court has its own sacrifice of moonlight; so the begging people, with the morality of begging, pray for everything that comes down from the court. I serve, you serve, we serve"——all useful morals pray to the prince: finally this medal of merit will be pinned on the weak chest! But the moon revolves around all worldly things: and the prince revolves around all that is most worldly—that is, the peddler's gold. The god of the army is not the god of gold nuggets; princes plan - but peddlers handle it! Oh!In thy heart, O Zarathustra, all is bright, strong, and beautiful!Spit on this city of peddlers and turn back! Here the blood flows in the veins: rancid, lukewarm, and cool.Spit on this giant city, this is the big slum where all waste flows! Spit on this city of compressed souls and weak breasts, this city of pointed eyes and sticky hands— Spit on this city of villains, this thick-skinned, this pen and tongue villain, this city of too zealous careerists:— Here everything is deformed, deformed, greedy, unfaithful, overcooked, yellow, festering and poisonous:— Spit on this giant city and turn back! But here Zarathustra says: I have long loathed your words, your kind! Why live so long by the bog, till you are a frog and a toad yourself? Was there not some rotten, cold blood Running through your veins That's why you learned to cluck and swear? Why don't you go into the forest?Why don't you till the land?Isn't the sea full of green islands? I despise your slander; if you warn me—why don't you warn yourself? Only for love, my bird of slander and warning soars; but not from the mire! You foaming fool, they call you my ape!But I call you my unflattering pig.Because of your dissatisfaction, it even ruined my praise of fools. What was it that made you upset in the first place?Because no one flatters you very much:—so you were born next to the sewage, you can have more reasons to complain,—— You can have more reasons to take revenge!You lazy fool, your vengeance is all your anger; I see you through! Your stupid talk hurts me even though you're telling the truth!If the words of Zarathustra were a hundred times more true, you still misapplied mine forever! Thus spake Zarathustra.So he looked at the great city and took a deep breath, and remained silent for a long time.Finally he said: Not only do I hate this fool, I also hate this great city.There is nothing good and nothing evil anywhere. Alas, this great city!If only I had seen the pillar of fire that consumed it! Even such a pillar of fire must come before the great day.It has a certain moment and a certain destiny. —— Fool, I say this to you at the time of parting: Where you can no longer love, you should—leave! Thus spoke Zarathustra, and departed from the fool and the great city.