Six solitudes he knows already-- But even the sea was not lonely enough for him, On the island he could climb, on the mount he became flame, At the seventh solitude He casts a fishing-rod far o'er his head.
Storm-tossed seamen! Wreckage of ancient stars Ye seas of the future! Uncompassed heavens!
At all lonely ones I now throw my fishing-rod.
Give answer to the flame's impatience, Let me, the fisher on high mountains, Catch my seventh, last solitude!---- FAME AND ETERNITY[2] I Speak, tell me, how long wilt thou brood Upon this adverse fate of thine?
Beware, lest from thy doleful mood A countenance _90_ dark is brewed That men in seeing thee divine A hate more bitter than the brine.
* * * * Speak, why does Zarathustra roam Upon the towering mountain-height?
Distrustful, cankered, dour, his home Is shut so long from human sight?
* * * * See, suddenly flames forth a lightning-flash, The pit profound with thunderous challenge fights Against the heavens, midst clamorous crack and crash Of the great mountain! Cradled in the heights, Born as the fruit of hate and lightning's love, The wrath of Zarathustra dwells above And looms with menace of a thundercloud.
* * * * Ye, who have roofs, go quickly, creep and hide!
To bed, ye tenderlings! For thunders loud Upon the blasts of storm triumphant ride, And bastions and ramparts sway and rock, The lightning sears the dusky face of night, And eerie truths like gleams of Hades mock The sense familiar. So in storm breaks forth The flaming curse of Zarathustra's wrath.
2 This fame, which all the wide world loves, I touch with gloves, And scorning beat Beneath my feet.
* * * * Who hanker after the pay of it?
Who cast themselves in the way of it?
These prostitutes to gold, These merchant folk. They fold Their unctuous palms over the jingling fame, Whose ringing chink wins all the world's acclaim.
* * * * Hast thou the lust to buy? It needs no skill.
They are all venal. Let thy purse be deep, And let their greedy paws unhindered creep Into its depths. So let them take their fill, For if thou dost not offer them enough, Their "virtue" they'll parade, to hide their huff.
* * * * They are all virtuous, yea every one.
Virtue and fame are ever in accord So long as time doth run, The tongues that prate of virtue as reward Earn fame. For virtue is fame's clever bawd.
* * * * Amongst these virtuous, I prefer to be One guilty of all vile and horrid sin!
And when I see fame's importunity So advertise her shameless harlotry, Ambition turns to gall. Amidst such kin One place alone, the lowest, would I win.
* * * * This fame, which all the wide world loves, I touch with gloves, And scorning beat Beneath my feet.
3 Hush! I see vastness!--and of vasty things Shall man be dumb, unless he can enshrine Them with his words? Then take the might which brings The heart upon thy tongue, charmed wisdom mine!
* * * * I look above, there rolls the star-strown sea.
O night, mute silence, voiceless cry of stars!
And lo! A sign! The heaven its verge unbars-- A shining constellation falls towards me.
4 O loftiest, star-clustered crown of Being!
O carved tablets of Eternity!
And dost thou truly bend thy way to me?
Thy loveliness, to all--obscurity, What? Fear'st not to unveil before _my_ seeing?
O carven tablets of Eternity!
Yea, verily, thou knowest--what mankind doth hate, What I alone do love: thou art inviolate To strokes of change and time, of fates the fate!
'Tis only thou, O dire Necessity, Canst kindle everlasting love in me!
* * * * O loftiest crown of Life! O shield of Fate!
That no desire can reach to invocate, That ne'er defiled or sullied is by Nay, Eternal Yea of life, for e'er am I thy Yea: For I love thee, Eternity!
[Footnote 1: Translated by Dr. G. T. Wrench.]
[Footnote 2: Translated by Dr. G. T. Wrench.]
FRAGMENTS OF DIONYSUS-DITHYRAMBS (1882-88) SPEECHES, PARABLES, AND SIMILES 3 My home's in the highlands, For the highlands I yearn not, I raise not mine eyes aloft: I am one that looks downward, One that must bless,--All blessers look downward.
11 Thus I began, I unlearned all self-pity!
13 Not in shattering idols, But in shattering the idol-worshipper in thee, Consisted thy valour.
14 See, there stand Those heavy cats of granite, Those old, old Values.
Woe is me! How overthrow them?
* * * * Scratching cats, With paws that are fettered, There they sit And their glance is poison.
17 A lightning-flash became my wisdom: With sword of adamant it clove me every darkness!
19 A thought that still Flows hot, like lava: But all streams of lava Build a fortress around them, And every thought finally Oppresses itself with laws.
20 Such is my will: And since 'tis my will, All goes as I wish-- That was my final wisdom: I willed what I must, And thus I forced every "must,"-- Since then has been for me no "must."
23 Deceit Is war's whole art The fox's skin Is my secret shirt of mail 25 We of the new underworld Grub for new treasures.
Godless it seemed to the ancients To disturb the earth's bowels for treasures And once more this godlessness revives, Hear ye not earth's bowels thunder?
28 Looking for love and finding masks, Finding accursed masks and having to break them!
29 Do I love you?
Yes, as the rider loves his steed, That carryeth him to his goal.
30 His pity is cruel, His loving hand-clasp bruises, Give not a giant your hand!
31 Ye fear me?
Ye fear the taut-strung bow?
Ye fear a man might set his arrow to the bow?
What matter words?
What matter I?
34 Ah, my friends, Whither has flown all that is called "good"?
Whither all good people?
Whither the innocence of all these falsehoods?
I call all good, Leaves and grass, happiness, blessing, and rain.
35 Not through his sins and greatest follies.
Through his perfection I suffered, As I suffered most from men.[1] 36 "Man is evil."
So spake the wisest For my consolement.
37 And only when I to myself am a burden Do ye fall heavy upon me!
38 Too soon, already I laugh again: For a foe 'tis easy To make me amends.
39 Gentle am I towards man and chance; Gentle with all men, and even with grasses: A spot of sunshine on winter curtains, Moist with tenderness, A thawing wind to snow-bound souls: * * * * Proud-minded towards trifling Gains, where I see the huckster's long finger, 'Tis aye my pleasure To be bamboozled: Such is the bidding of my fastidious taste.
40 A strange breath breathes and spits at me, Am I a mirror, that straightway is clouded?
41 Little people, Confiding, open-hearted, But low-built portals, Where only the low of stature can enter.
* * * * How can I get through the city-gate Who had forgotten to live among dwarfs?
42 My wisdom was like to the sun, I longed to give them light, But I only deceived them.
The sun of my wisdom Blinded the eyes Of these poor bats...43 Blacker and eviller things didst thou see than ever a seer did: Through the revels of Hell no sage had ever journeyed.
44 Back! on my heels too closely ye follow!
Back! lest my wisdom should tread on you, crush you!
45 "He goes to hell who goes thy ways!"
So be it I to my hell I'll pave the way myself with well-made maxims.
46 Your God, you tell me, Is a God of love?
The sting of conscience A sting from God?
A sting of love?
48 They chew gravel, They lie on their bellies Before little round things, They adore all that falleth not down-- These last servants of God Believers (in reality)!
50 They made their God out of nothing, What wonder if now he is naught?
51 Ye loftier men! There have once been More thoughtful times, more reflective, Than is our to-day and to-morrow.
52 Our time is like a sick woman-- Let her but shriek, rave, scold, And break the tables and dishes!
54 Ye mount?
Is it true that ye mount, Ye loftier men?
Are ye not, pray, Like to a ball Sped to the heights By the lowest that's in you?
Do ye not flee from yourselves, O ye climbers?
55 All that you thought You had to despise, Where you only renounced!
56 All men repeat the refrain!
No, no, and thrice say No!
What's all this yap-yap talk of heaven?
We would not enter the kingdom of heaven, The kingdom of earth shall be ours?
57 The will redeemeth, He that has nothing to do In a Nothing finds food for trouble.
58 You cannot endure it more, Your tyrannous destiny, Love it--you're given no choice!
59 These alone free us from woes (Choose now I) Sudden death Or long-drawn-out love.
60 Of death we are sure, So why not be merry?
61 The worst of pleas I have hidden from you--that life grew tedious!
Throw it away, that ye find it again to your taste!
62 Lonely days, Ye must walk on valorous feet!
63 Loneliness Plants naught, it ripens...And even then you must have the sun for your friend.
64 Once more must ye plunge in the throng--In the throng ye grow hard and smooth.
Solitude withers And lastly destroys.-- 65 When on the hermit comes the great fear; When he runs and runs And knows not whither; When the storms roar behind And the lightning bears witness against him, And his cavern breeds spectres And fills him with dread.
67 Throw thy pain in the depths, Man, forget! Man, forget!
Divine is the art of forgetting!
Wouldst fly?
Wouldst feel at home in the heights?
Throw thy heaviest load in the sea!
Here is the sea, hurl thyself in the sea!
Divine is the art of forgetting!
69 Look forward, never look back!
We sink to the depths If we peer ever into the depths.
70 Beware, beware Of warning the reckless!
Thy warning will drive them To leap into every abyss!
71 Why hurled he himself from the heights?
What led him astray?
His pity for all that is lowly led him astray, And now he lies there, broken, useless, and cold.
72 Whither went he? Who knows?
We only know that he sank.
A star went out in the desolate void, And lone was the void.
73 What we have not But need, We must take.
And so a good conscience I took.
74 Who is there that could bestow right upon thee?
So take thy right!
75 O ye waves, Wondrous waves, are ye wroth with me?
Do ye raise me your crests in wrath?
With my rudder I smite Your folly full square.
This bark ye yourselves To immortal life will carry along.
77 When no new voice was heard, Ye made from old words A law: When life grows stark, there shoots up the law.
78 What none can refute Ye say must be true?
Oh, ye innocents!
79 Art thou strong?
Strong as an ass? Strong as God?
Art thou proud?
So proud as to flaunt Unashamed thy conceit?
80 Beware, And ne'er beat the drum Of thy destiny I Go out of the way From all pom-pom of fame!
* * * * Be not known too soon!
Be one that has hoarded renown!
81 Wilt thou grasp at the thorns?
Thy fingers must pay.
Grasp at a poniard.
85 Be a tablet of gold, They will grave upon thee In golden script.
86 Upright he stands With more sense of "justice" In his outermost toe Than I have in all my head.
A virtue-monster Mantled in white.
87 Already he mimics himself, Already weary he grows, Already he seeks the paths he has trod-- Who of late still loved all tracks untrodden!
Secretly burnt-- Not for his faith, Rather because he had lost the heart To find new faith.
88 Too long he sat in the cage, That runaway!
Too long he dreaded A gaoler!
Timorous now he goeth his ways, All things make him to stumble-- The shadow e'en of a stick makes him to stumble.
89 Ye chambers smoky and musty, Ye cages and narrow hearts, How could your spirit be free?
90 Narrow souls!
Huckster-souls!
When money leaps into the box The soul leaps into it too![2] 92 Are ye women, That ye wish to suffer From that which ye love?
99 They are cold, these men of learning!
Would that a lightning-flash might strike their food, And their mouths could learn to eat fire!
101 Your false love For the past, A love for the graves of the dead, Is a theft from life That steals all the future.
* * * * An antiquary Is a craftsman of dead things, Who lives among coffins and skeletons.
103 Only the poet who can lie Wilfully, skilfully, Can tell the truth.
104 Our chase after truth, Is't a chase after happiness?
105 Truth Is a woman, no better, Cunning in her shame: Of what she likes best She will know naught, And covers her face...To what doth she yield But to violence?
Violence she needs.
Be hard, ye sages!
Ye must compel her, That shamefaced Truth...For her happiness She needs constraint--She is a woman, no better.
106 We thought evil of each other?
We were too distant, But now in this tiny hut, Pinned to one destiny, How could we still be foes?
We must needs love those Whom we cannot escape.
107 Love thy foe, Let the robber rob thee: The woman hears and--does it.
110 A proud eye With silken curtains, Seldom clear, Honours him that may see it unveiled.
111 Sluggard eyes That seldom love-- But when they love, the levin flashes As from shafts of gold Where a dagger keeps guard at the treasure of love.
117 They are crabs, for whom I have no fellow-feeling.
Grasp them, they pinch you; Leave them alone, and they walk backward.
119 Crooked go great rivers and men, Crooked, but turned to their goal; That is their highest courage, They dreaded not crooked paths.
121 Wouldst catch them?
Then speak to them As to stray sheep: "Your path, your path You have lost!"
They follow all That flatter them so: "What? had we a path?"
Each whispers the other: "It really seems that we have a path."
[The numbering given corresponds to that of the original, several fragments having been omitted.--TR.]
[Footnote 1: Nietzsche here alludes to Christian perfection, which he considers equivalent to harmlessness.--TR.]
[Footnote 2: Alluding to the saying of the Dominican monk Tetzel, who sold indulgences in the time of Luther: "When money leaps into the box, the soul leaps from hell to heaven!"--TR.]
HYMN TO LIFE.
_For Chorus and Orchestra._ WORDS BY LOU SALOMÉ. MUSIC BY FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE.
Trans. BY HERMAN SCHEFFAUER. Arr. for Piano BY ADRIAN COLLINS. M.A.