“You alone make the air around you strong and clear! Did I ever find anywhere on earth such good air as with you in your cave?
“Many lands have I seen, my nose has learned to test and estimate many kinds of air: but with you my nostrils taste their greatest delight!
“Except,—except—, oh forgive an old recollection! Forgive me an old after-dinner song, which I once composed among daughters of the wilderness:—
“For with them there was the same good, clear, oriental air; there I was furthest from cloudy, damp, melancholy old Europe!
“Then I loved such oriental girls and other blue kingdoms of heaven, over which hung no clouds and no thoughts.
“You would not believe how charmingly they sat there, when they did not dance, profound, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like ribboned riddles, like after-dinner nuts—
“colorful and foreign, indeed! but without clouds: riddles which can be guessed: to please such girls I then composed an after-dinner song.”
Thus spoke the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra’s shadow; and before any one answered him, he had seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs, and looked calmly and sagely around him:-but with his nostrils he inhaled the air slowly and questioningly, like one who in new countries tastes new foreign air. Thereupon he began to sing with a kind of roaring.
2
Wilderness grows: woe to him who harbors wildernesses!
—Ha! Solemnly!
Indeed solemnly!
A worthy beginning!
African solemnity!
Worthy of a lion
Or of a moral howler monkey—
—but it’s nothing to you,
You most charming friends,
At whose feet I
For the first time,
A European under palm trees,
Am permitted to sit. Selah.
Truly wonderful!
Here I sit now,
The wilderness near, and yet I am
Again so far from the wilderness,
And in no way devastated:
That is, swallowed down
By this smallest oasis—:
—It opened simply yawning,
Its sweetest mouth,
Most sweet smelling of all little mouths:
Then I fell in,
Down, right through—among you,
You best beloved friends! Selah.
Hail, hail that whale,
If for its guests it made things
So pleasant!—you understand
My learned allusion?
Hail to his belly,
If it was
Lovely as the belly of an oasis
As this is: which, however, I call into question,
—since I come from Europe,
Which is more skeptical than any
Little old wife.
May God improve it!
Amen!
Here I sit now,
In this smallest oasis,
Like a date,
Brown, sweet, oozing gold, lusting
For the round mouth of a girl,
But even more for girlish
Ice-cold snow white cutting
Incisors: for after such
Pants the heart of all hot dates. Selah.
As the aforementioned southern fruit
Similar, all-too-similar,
I lie here, by little
Flying insects
Sniffed around and played around,
And also by still smaller,
More foolish more sinful
Wishes and notions,—
Enveloped by you,
You silent, you foreboding
Cat girls,
Dudu and Suleika,
—Ensphinxed, to crowd many feelings
Into a single word:
(Forgive me God
This sin of speech!)
-I sit here sniffing the best air,
Truly the air of paradise,
Bright buoyant air, streaked with gold,
As good air as ever
Fell from the moon—
Whether by chance,
Or did it happen from playfulness?
As the old poets relate.
But I, a doubter, call it
Into doubt, but with this I come
Out of Europe,
Which is more skeptical than any
Little old wife.
May God improve it!
Amen!
Drinking this finest air,
With nostrils swollen as cups,
Without future, without memories,
So I sit here, you
Best beloved friends,
And look at the palm tree,
How she, like a dancer,
Bows and bends and sways at the hips,
—one does it too, if one watches long!
Like a dancer who, it seems,
Stood long, dangerously long,
Always, always only on one leg?
-so that she has forgotten, it seems,
The other leg?
In vain, at least,
I searched for the missing
Twin jewel
-namely, the other leg—
In the holy vicinity
Of her dearest, most delicate
Flap- and flutter- and flicker-skirt.
Yes, if you would, you beautiful friends,
Believe me entirely:
She has lost it!
It is gone!
Gone forever!
The other leg!
Oh what a shame about that lovely other leg!
Where-may it be waiting and mourning forsaken?
The lonely leg?
Perhaps afraid of one
Grim blonde locked
Lion monster? Or perhaps even
Gnawed off, nibbled away—
Misery, alas! alas! Nibbled away! Selah.
Oh do not cry to me,
Gentle hearts!
Do not cry to me, you
Date hearts! Milk breasts!
You heart purses
Of candy!
Cry no more,
Pale Dudu!
Be a man, Suleika! Courage! Courage!
-Or should perhaps
Something bracing, heart bracing,
Fit here?
An unctuous proverb?
A solemn exhortation?—
Ha! Up now, dignity!
Virtuous dignity! European dignity!
Blow, blow again,
Bellows of virtue!
Ha!
Roar once more,
Moral roaring!
As a moral lion
Roar before the daughters of the wilderness!
-For virtuous howling,
You dearest girls,
Is more than anything else
European fervor, European hot hunger!
And here I stand now,
As a European,
I cannot do otherwise, God help me!11
Amen!
Wilderness grows: woe to him who harbors wildernesses!
THE AWAKENING12
1
After the song of the wanderer and shadow, the cave suddenly became full of noise and laughter: and since the assembled guests all spoke simultaneously and even the ass, thus encouraged, would no longer remain silent, Zarathustra was overcome by a little aversion and scorn for his visitors: although he rejoiced at their gladness. For it seemed to him a sign of convalescence. So he slipped out into the open air and spoke to his animals.
“Where is their distress now?” he said, and already he felt relieved of his petty disgust—“with me, it seems that they have unlearned their cries of distress!
—“though unfortunately not yet their crying.” And Zarathustra stopped his ears, for just then the Yeah-Yuh of the ass mixed strangely with the noisy jubilation of those higher men.
“They are merry,” he began again, “and who knows? perhaps at their host’s expense; and if they have learned to laugh fr
om me, still it is not my laughter they have learned.
“But what does that matter! They are old people: they recover in their own way, they laugh in their own way; my ears have already endured worse and have not become peevish.
“This day is a victory: he already yields, he flees, the spirit of gravity, my old arch-enemy! How well this day is about to end, which began so badly and gloomily!
“And it is about to end. Already the evening comes: it rides here over the sea, the good rider! How it bobs, the blessed one, the homecoming one, in its purple saddles!
“The sky gazes brightly on that, the world lies deep. Oh, all you strange ones who have come to me, it is already worthwhile to have lived with me!”
Thus spoke Zarathustra. And again came the cries and laughter of the higher men out of the cave: then he began again:
“They bite at it, they take my bait, their enemy, the spirit of gravity, departs from them too. Now they learn to laugh at themselves: is that what I hear?
“My strong food takes effect, my strong and savory sayings: and truly, I did not nourish them with gassy vegetables! But with warrior-food, with conqueror-food: I awakened new desires.
“New hopes are in their arms and legs, their hearts expand. They find new words, soon their spirits will breathe playfulness.
“Such food may not be proper for children, or for fond little women, old and young. Their stomachs are persuaded otherwise; I am not their physician and teacher.
“Disgust departs from these higher men; well! that is my victory. In my domain they become assured; all stupid shame flees away; they empty themselves.
“They empty their hearts, good times return to them, they relax and ruminate,—they become thankful.
“I take that as the best sign: they become thankful. It will not be long before they invent festivals and put up memorials to their old joys.
“They are convalescents!” Thus spoke Zarathustra joyfully to his heart and gazed out; but his animals pressed up to him, and honored his happiness and his silence.
2
But suddenly Zarathustra’s ear was frightened: for the cave, which had so far been full of noise and laughter, became suddenly still as death; his nose, however, smelled a sweet scented vapor and odor of incense, as if from burning pinecones.
“What is happening? What are they up to?” he asked himself, and stole up to the entrance, so that he might see his guests unobserved. But wonder upon wonder! what was he then obliged to behold with his own eyes!
“They have all of them become pious again, they pray, they are insane!” —he said, and was astonished beyond measure. And indeed! all these higher men, the two kings, the pope retired from service, the evil magician, the voluntary beggar, the wanderer and shadow, the old soothsayer, the conscientious in spirit, and the ugliest man—they all lay on their knees like children and credulous old women, and worshipped the ass. And just then the ugliest man began to gurgle and snort, as if something unutterable in him tried to find expression; but when he actually found words, behold! it was a pious, strange litany in praise of the adored and incensed ass. And the litany sounded thus:
“Amen! And glory and honor and wisdom and thanks and praise and strength be to our god, from everlasting to everlasting!”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“He carries our burdens, he has taken upon him the form of a servant, he is patient of heart and never says No; and he who loves his god chastises him.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“He does not speak: except that he always says Yes to the world which he created: thus he extols his world. It is his subtlety that does not speak: thus is he rarely found wrong.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“He goes modestly through the world. Grey is the body color in which he wraps his virtue. If he has spirit he conceals it; but every one believes in his long ears.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“What hidden wisdom it is to wear long ears, and only to say Yes and never No! Has he not created the world in his own image, namely, as stupid as possible?”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“You go straight and crooked ways; it concerns you little what seems straight or crooked to us men. Your domain is beyond good and evil. It is your innocence not to know what innocence is.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“Behold, how you spurn no one, neither beggars nor kings. You suffer little children to come to you, and when bad boys tease you, then say you simply, Yeah-Yuh.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
“You love she-asses and fresh figs, you eat anything. A thistle tickles your heart when you happen to be hungry. There is the wisdom of a god in that.”
—But the ass brayed Yeah-Yuh.
THE ASS FESTIVAL13
1
BUT AT THIS PLACE in the litany Zarathustra could no longer control himself; he himself cried out Yeah-Yuh, louder even than the ass, and sprang into the midst of his maddened guests. “Whatever are you about, you grown-up children?” he exclaimed, pulling up the praying ones from the ground. “Ah, if any one else, except Zarathustra, had seen you:
“Everyone would think you the worst blasphemers, or the very most foolish old women, with your new belief!
“And you yourself, you old pope, how can you bring yourself to adore an ass in such a manner as god?”—
“0 Zarathustra,” answered the pope, “forgive me, but in divine matters I am more enlightened even than you. And it is right that it should be so.
“Better to adore god thus, in this form, than in no form at all! Think over this saying, my exalted friend: you will readily see that in such a saying there is wisdom.
“He who said ‘God is a Spirit’ took the greatest step and leap so far made on earth towards unbelief: such a saying is not easily corrected!
“My old heart leaps and bounds because there is still something to adore on earth. Forgive an old, pious pope’s heart that, O Zarathustra!—”
—“And you,” said Zarathustra to the wanderer and shadow, “you call and think yourself a free spirit? And here you practice such priestly idolatries?
“Truly, you behave even worse here than with your naughty brown girls, you evil new believer!”
“It is bad enough,” answered the wanderer and shadow, “you are right: but how can I help it! The old god lives again, O Zarathustra, you may say what you will.
“The ugliest man is to blame for it all: he has reawakened him. And if he replies that he once killed him, with gods death is always only a prejudice.”
—“And you,” said Zarathustra, “you evil old magician, what did you do! Who in this free age ought to believe in you any longer, when you believe in such divine asininities?
“What a stupid thing you have done; how could you, shrewd man, do such a stupid thing!”
“O Zarathustra,” answered the shrewd magician, “you are right, it was a stupid thing, and it was hard enough to do it.”
—“And even you,” said Zarathustra to the conscientious in spirit, “consider, and put your finger to your nose! Does nothing go against your conscience here? Is your spirit not too clean for this praying and the exhalations of these devotees?”
“There is something to that,” said the conscientious in spirit, and put his finger to his nose, “there is something in this spectacle which helps my conscience.
“Perhaps I dare not believe in god: but it is certain that god seems to me most worthy of belief in this form.
“God is said to be eternal, according to the testimony of the most pious: he who has so much time takes his time. As slow and as stupid as possible: thereby such a one can nevertheless go very far.
“And he who has too much spirit might well become infatuated with stupidity and folly. Think of yourself, O Zarathustra!
“You yourself-truly! even you could well become an ass through superabundance of wisdom.
“Does not the true sage wi
llingly walk on the most crooked paths? The evidence teaches it, O Zarathustra,—your own evidence!”
—“And you yourself, finally,” said Zarathustra, and turned towards the ugliest man, who still lay on the ground stretching up his arm to the ass (for he gave it wine to drink). “Speak, you unspeakable, what have you been about!
“You seem transformed, your eyes glow, the cloak of the sublime covers your ugliness: what did you do?
“Is it then true what they say, that you have again awakened him? And why? Was he not killed for good reasons and done away with?
“You yourself seem to me awakened: what did you do? why did you turn around? Why did you get converted? Speak, you unspeakable!”
“0 Zarathustra,” answered the ugliest man, “you are a rogue!
“Whether he lives still, or lives again, or is thoroughly dead—which of the two of us knows that best? I ask you.
“But one thing I do know—I once learned it from you yourself, O Zarathustra: he who wants to kill most thoroughly—laughs.
“ ‘One does not kill by anger but by laughter’—thus you spoke once, O Zarathustra, you hidden one, you destroyer without anger, you dangerous saint,—you are a rogue!”
2
But then it happened that Zarathustra, astonished at such public roguish answers, jumped back to the door of his cave and, turning towards all his guests, cried out with a strong voice:
“O you jokers, all of you, you jesters! Why do you dissemble and disguise yourselves before me!
“How the hearts of all of you convulsed with delight and malice, because you had at last become again like little children-namely, pious,—
—“Because you at last did again as children do-namely, prayed, folded your hands and said ‘good God’!
“But now leave, I pray you, this nursery, my own cave, where today all childishness is carried on. Cool down, here outside, your hot childish playfulness and tumult of hearts.”
“To be sure: unless you become like little children you shall not enter into that kingdom of heaven.” (And Zarathustra pointed up with his hands.)
Thus Spoke Zarathustra Page 31
