Only Fool! Only Poet! In the fading light of dusk, When the dew s solace begins To well down to the earth, Invisible, as well as unheard For the comforter dew slips on Delicate footwear as all gentle consolers Then do you remember, hot heart, remember How once you thirsted After heavenly tears and dewdrops, Scorched and weary, thirsting While on yellow paths of grass The spiteful evening glances of the sun Ran around you through black trees, Glowing sun-glances, dazzling with malicious delight. The suitor of truth you?" thus they mocked me "No! Only a poet! A cunning, plundering, stealthy beast, That must lie, That knowingly, willingly must lie, Lusting after prey, Colorfully masked, Self-shrouded, Prey for itself This the suitor of truth? ... Only fool! Only poet! Merely speaking colorfully, From fools masks shouting colorfully, Climbing about on deceptive word-bridges, On misleading rainbows, Between false heavens Rambling, lurking Only fool! Only poet! This the suitor of truth? ... Not still, stiff, smooth, cold, Become an image, A pillar of God, Not set up before temples, A god s gatekeeper: No! hostile to all such truth statues, More at home in any desert than in temples, Fraught with cats mischief, Leaping through every window Swiftly! into every chance, Sniffing for every jungle, That you in jungles Among motley-shagged beasts of prey Would run sinfully sound and beautiful and colorful, With lusting animal lips, Blissfully sneering, blissfully hellish, blissfully bloodthirsty, Plundering, prowling, lying would run ... Or like the eagle that, for a long time, A long time gazes with a fixed stare into abysses, Into its abysses ...

Oh how they spiral downward, Down, down under, Into ever deeper depths! Then, Suddenly, Plummeting straight down Wings pulled out To pounce on lambs, Right down, hot-hungry, Lusting for lambs, Hating all lamb-souls, Grimly hating whatever looks Virtuous, sheepish, curly-wooled, Dull, with lambs milk-goodwill ... Thus Eagle-like, panther-like, Are the poet s longings, Are your longings under a thousand masks, You fool! You poet!... You that have looked upon man As god and as sheep Tearing to pieces the god in man As well as the sheep in man, And laughing while tearing This, this is your bliss, A panther s and eagle s bliss, A poet s and fool s bliss! ... In the fading light of dusk, When just as the moon s sickle In between green and crimson-reds Enviously creeps The day s enemy, With every stealthy step At rose hammocks Scything, till they sink, Sink down pale in nightfall: Thus I myself once sank, Out of my truth-madness, Out of my day-longings, Weary of day, sick from the light Sank downward, eveningward, shadowward, By one truth Burnt and thirsty Do you still remember, hot heart, remember How you thirsted then? That I be exiled From all truth! Only fool! Only poet!... Among Daughters of the Desert 1.

Don't go! said the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra s shadow. Stay with us other wise our old dull affliction might seize us again. That old magician has already given us his worst for our benefit, and behold, th at good pious pope there has tears in his eyes and has again embarked on the sea of melancholy. These kings here may still put on a pleasant countenance: but had they no witnes ses, I wager that for them too the wicked game would recommence The wicked game of drifting clouds, of damp melancholy, of imposing skies, of st olen suns, of howling autumn winds The wicked game of our own howling and cries of distress: Stay with us, Zarathus tra! Here there is much concealed misery that wants to speak, much evening, much cloud, much musty air! You have nourished us with strong food for men and fortifying maxims: do not let the frail effeminate spirits seize us again for dessert! You alone make the air around you strong and clear! Have I ever found such good air on earth than with you in your cave? I have seen many lands, my nose has learned to test and assess many kinds of air : but with you my nostrils taste their greatest delight! Unless , unless oh forgive an old memory! Forgive me an old after-dinner song, whi ch I once composed among the daughters of the desert. For with them the air was equally good, clear, and oriental; never was I farther away from cloudy, damp, melancholy old Europe! At that time I loved such Oriental girls and other blue skies, over which no clo uds and no thoughts hung. You would not believe how dutifully they sat there, when they were not dancing, deep, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like ribboned riddles, like aft er-dinner nuts Colorful and strange, forsooth! but without clouds: riddles that let themselves be guessed: for such girls I then conceived an after-dinner psalm. Thus spoke the wanderer, who called himself Zarathustra s shadow; and before anyon e answered him, he had already seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs and looked around, composed and wise: but with his nostrils he drew in the air slowly and inquiringly, as one tastes the new air in a foreign land. At last he began to sing with a kind of roar. 2. The desert grows: woe to him in whom deserts hide... 3. Ha! Solemn! A worthy beginning! Solemnly African! Worthy of a lion Or of a moral screaming monkey ...

But nothing for you, You most beloved maidens, At whose feet I, A European under palm trees, Am allowed to sit. Selah. Truly wonderful! Here I now sit, Near the desert and yet So far from the desert again, And in no way desolate: To wit, gulped down By this smallest oasis It just opened up yawning Its lovely mouth, The most redolent of all little mouths: Then I fell in, Down, through among you, You most beloved maidens. Selah. Hail, hail to that whale, If he let his guest be so Well off! you understand My learned allusion? ... Hail to his belly, If it was as Lovely an oasis-belly As this: yet I cast doubt on it. For I come from Europe, Which is more doubt-addicted than any nagging old wife. May God improve it! Amen! Here I now sit, In this smallest oasis, Like a date, Brown, sweet through, gold-oozing, Lusting for the round mouth of a girl, But even more for girlish Ice-cold, snow-white, cutting Biting-teeth: for after these The hearts of all hot dates lust. Selah. Similar, all-too-similar To the aforesaid Mediterranean fruit, I lie here, with little Winged beetles Dancing about and playing around, Just like even smaller, More foolish, more sinful Wishes and notions Surrounded by you, You silent, you ominous Girl-kittens Dudu und Suleika Ensphinxed, to cram a lot of Feelings into one word ( May God forgive me This sin of speech! ...) I sit here, sniffing the best air,

Verily, air of paradise, Clear, mild air, gold-striped, As good air as ever Fell down from the moon, Be it by chance Or did it happen from wantonness? As the old poets tell. Yet I, a sceptic, have my doubts, For I come From Europe, Which is more doubt-addicted than any nagging old wife. May God improve it! Amen! Drinking in this fairest air, My nostrils swollen like goblets, Without future, without memories, Thus I sit here, you Most beloved maidens, And watch the palm tree, As it, like a dancer, Bends and arches and sways at the hips One does it too, if one watches long ... Like a dancer, who, as it would seem to me, Has stood too long, precariously long Always, always only on one little leg? For she has forgotten, it would seem to me, The other leg? At least in vain I sought the missing Twin-jewel Namely, the other leg In the holy proximity Of her most beloved, most delicate Fanned-, and flittering-, and tinseled-tutus. Yes, if you would, you fair maidens, Quite believe me, She has lost it ... Oh my! oh my! oh my! oh my! oh my!... It is gone, Gone forever, The other leg! Oh what a shame about that lovely other leg! Where whence may it be lamenting forsaken, This lonely leg? Perhaps in fear of a Grim, yellow, blond-maned Lion-monster? Or maybe even Gnawed off, nibbled off Pitiful, alas! alas! Nibbled off! Selah. Oh weep not, Soft hearts! Weep not, you Date-hearts! Milk-bosoms! You little-licoriceHeart-sacs! Be a man, Suleika! Courage! Courage! Weep no more,

Pale Dudu! Or should perhaps Something fortifying, heart-fortifying Be called for here? An anointed maxim? A more solemn exhortation? ... Ha! Up, dignity! Blow, blow again, Bellows of virtue! Ha! Once more roar, Roar morally, Roar like a moral lion before the daughters of the desert! For virtuous howling, You most beloved maidens, Is more than anything European fervor, European ravenous appetite! And yet here I stand, As a European, I cannot do else, God help me! Amen! The desert grows: woe to him in whom deserts hide! Stone grinds against stone, the desert devours and strangles, Glowing brown monstrous death stares And chews; its life is to chew ... Do not forget, man, consumed by lust: you are the stone, the desert, are death... Ultimate Will To die thus, As once I saw him die The friend who threw divine thunderbolts and Glances into my dark youth. Sportive and profound, A dancer in the battle The most cheerful among warriors, The gravest among victors, A fate standing upon his fate, Hard, reflective, calculating: Trembling because he triumphed, Rejoicing in that he triumphed dying: Commanding while he died And he commanded that one destroy ... To die thus, As once I saw him die Vanquishing, destroying ... Cf. Notebooks, KSA 10, 594, Fall 1883 20 [11] (Notes for Thus Spoke Zarathustra) : Of the One Victory.

Thus, as once I saw him conquering and dying: the friend, who threw divine momen ts and lightning into my dark youth sportive and profound, storming forward for joy even in the storm of battle, for ward in bloody pain, and where the chosen flags of the enemy neared, among the dying the most cheerful, among the victors the gravest, reflective, ca lculating, standing on his fate trembling about it, laughing about it, that he tri umphed dying commanding while he died: and he commanded that one destroy and not be sparing Oh you my will, my in-me, over-me! you my necessity! Give that I also conquer and save me up for this one victory! Preserve and save me up and guard me from all small victories, you gift of my so ul and turning point of all need, you my necessity! [Cf. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Old and New Tables 30.] Amid Birds of Prey Whoever tends to descend here, How quickly The depths swallow them! But you, Zarathustra, Still love the abyss Do you, just as the spruce? Its roots shoot down, where The rock itself tremors Gazing into the depths It tarries at abysses, Where everything around Tends to fall: Amid the impatience Of the rough boulders and torrential streams Patiently enduring, firm, silent, Solitary ... Solitary! Who would even venture To be a guest here, To be your guest? ... A bird of prey perhaps: who might well hang, the steadfast patient sufferer, Gloating delightfully in its coat, With mad laughter, A bird of prey s laughter ... Why so steadfast? Cruelly, it scoffs: One must have wings, if one loves the abyss ... One must not remain suspended, Like you, hanged one!

Oh Zarathustra, Cruelest nimrod! Recently still a hunter of God, The snare of all virtue, The arrow of evil! Now Hunted by yourself, Your own prey, Bored into yourself ... Now Alone with yourself, Paired in your own knowledge, Amid a hundred reflections Before your false self, Amid a hundred dubious Memories, Weary from every hurt, Chilled by every frost, Strangled by your own rope, Self-knower! Self-hangman! Why did you bind yourself With the rope of your wisdom? Why did you seduce yourself Into the paradise of the ancient serpent? Why did you crawl into yourself In you into you? An invalid now, One who is sick from snake venom; A prisoner now, One who drew the hardest lot: In your own shaft Laboring bent over, Excavating yourself, Digging into yourself, Without aid, Stiff, A corpse Overpiled by a hundred burdens, By your overburdens, One in the know! A self-knower! The wise Zarathustra! ... You sought the heaviest burden Yet found yourself Cannot cast off yourself from you... Lurking, Crouching, One who no longer stands upright! You are deeply rooted in your tomb, Tangled spirit! ... And yet recently so proud, Upon all your stilted pride! Recently still the godless hermit,

The co-settler with the devil, The scarlet prince of all arrogance! ... Now Between two voids One who is twisted, A question mark, A weary enigma An enigma for birds of prey ... They'll certainly dissolve you, They no doubt hunger after your dissolution," Indeed they flutter about you, their enigma, Around you, hanged man! ... Oh Zarathustra! ... Self-knower! ... Self-hangman! ... The Beacon [ Das Feuerzeichen, literally: The Fire Signal. ]

Here, where an island grew between seas, A stone altar steeply piled up, Here beneath blackened sky, Zarathustra lit his mountain fire, The beacon for mariners driven off course, The question mark for those who have answers ... This flame with a white-grey belly Flickers its greedy tongue into the cold beyond, Bends its neck towards ever purer heights A raised serpent of impatience: This signal I placed before me. My soul is this flame, Insatiable for new expanses To blaze upward, upward in silent passion. Why did Zarathustra flee from animals and men? Why did he run away suddenly from all settled lands? Six solitudes he knew already But the sea itself was not lonely enough for him, The island let him rise, on the mountain he became the flame, Into a seventh solitude, Searching now, he casts a hook over his head. Lost mariners! Wreckage of ancient stars! You seas of the future! Unexplored sky! Now I cast my hook towards all solitary ones: Give an answer to the impatience of the flame, Catch me, fisherman on high mountains, My seventh ultimate solitude! Ariadne s Lament Who will warm me, who loves me still? Give warm hands! Give the heart s brazier! Prone, shuddering

Like one half dead, whose feet are warmed; Shaken, alas! by unknown fevers, Trembling at pointed arrows of glacial frost, Hunted by you, Thought! Nameless! Cloaked! Horrid! You hunter behind clouds! Struck down by your lightning, Your scornful eye, glaring at me out of the dark! Thus I lie, Writhing, twisted, tormented By all the eternal afflictions, Struck By you, cruelest hunter, You unknown god... Strike deeper! Strike one more time! Stab, break this heart! Why all this affliction With blunt-toothed arrows? How can you gaze evermore, Unweary of human agony, With the spiteful lightning eyes of gods? You do not wish to kill, Only to torment, torment? Why torment me, You spiteful unknown god? Aha! You creep closer Around midnight?... What do you want? Speak! You push me, press upon me, Ah, already much too close! You hear me breathing, You eavesdrop on my heart, Most jealous one! What are you jealous of anyway? Away! Away! What s the ladder for? Do you want inside, Would you get into my heart, And enter My most secret thoughts? Shameless one! Unknown! Thief! What do you wish to steal for yourself? What do you wish to hear for yourself? What will you gain by torture, You torturer! You executioner-god! Or am I, like a dog, To wallow before you? Devoted, eager due to my Love for you fawning over you? In vain! It stabs again! Cruelest sting! I am not your dog, only your prey, Cruelest hunter! Your proudest prisoner,

You robber behind clouds... Speak finally! You, cloaked by lightning! Unknown! Speak! What do you want, highwayman, from me?... What? A ransom? What do you want for ransom? Demand much so advises my pride! And talk little my pride advises as well! Aha! Me? you want me? Me all of me?... Aha! And tormenting me, fool that you are, You wrack my pride? Give me love who warms me still? Who loves me still? Give warm hands, Give the heart s brazier, Give me, the loneliest one, Ice, alas! whom ice sevenfold Has taught to yearn for enemies, Even for my enemies Give, yes, surrender to me, Cruelest enemy Yourself!... Gone! He has fled, My only companion, My splendid enemy, My unknown, My executioner-god!... No! Come back! With all your afflictions! All my tears gush forth To you they stream And the last flames of my heart Glow for you. Oh, come back, My unknown god! my pain! My ultimate happiness!... A lightening bolt. Dionysus becomes visible in emerald beauty. Dionysus: Be clever, Ariadne!... You have little ears; you have my ears: Put a clever word in them! Must one not first hate oneself, in order to love oneself?... I am your labyrinth... Fame and Eternity

1. How long will you sit on your misfortune? Watch out! You hatch me yet Another egg, A basilisk-egg Out of your long misery. Why did Zarathustra sneak along the mountains? Distrustful, ulcerous, gloomy, One who long lies in wait But suddenly, lightning, Bright, terrible, a blast Heavenwards out of the abyss: The mountains themselves shake from The bowels of the earth ... Where hate and lightning-flash Become one, a curse Now Zarathustra s wrath cuts across the mountains, A storm-cloud creeps along its way. Sneak off, one who has a last cover! Into bed with you, you weakling! Now rolling thunder over the vaults, Then shaking, as the beams and wall, Then flickering lightning and sulphur-yellow truths Zarathustra curses ... 2. This coin, with which All the world pays, Fame I grasp this coin with gloves, With disgust I trample it under me. Who wants to be paid? Those for sale ... Whoever is for sale, seizes With sticky hands All the world s coin-jingle-jangle fame! You want to buy them? They're all for sale. But offer much! Jingle with a full purse! Otherwise you fortify them, You fortify their virtue ... They are all virtuous. Fame and virtue it rhymes. [Ruhm und Tugend das reimt sich. ] As long as the world lives, It will pay virtue-prattling With fame-rattling The world lives on this noise ... Before all the virtuous

I want to be guilty, Called guilty of each great offence! Before all fame-trumpets My ambition will become a worm Among those I desire To be the lowest ... This coin, with which All the world pays, Fame I grasp this coin with gloves, With disgust I trample it under me. 3. Hush! From great things I see a great deal! One should keep silent Or speak greatly: Speak greatly, my delighted wisdom! Up there I see Rolling seas of light: Oh night, oh silence, oh deathly silent uproar!... I see a sign From the distant beyond A glittering constellation slowly sinks towards me... 4. Supreme star of being! Tablet of eternal forms! You come towards me? Why hasn t anyone beheld Your mute beauty Why doesn t it escape my gaze? Sign of necessity! Tablet of eternal forms! But of course you know it: What everyone hates, What I alone love, That you are eternal! That you are necessary! My love is ever ignited Only through necessity. Sign of necessity! Supreme star of being! That no desire attains, That no No desecrates, Eternal Yes of being, Eternally I am your Yes: For I love you, O eternity! On the Poverty of the Richest For ten years now

No drop has reached me, No humid wind, no dew of love A rainless land Now I beseech my wisdom Not to become miserly in this drought: Pour out of me, my trickling dew, My own rain for the yellowed desert! Once I commanded the clouds To move away from my mountains Once I spoke, More light, for your shady places!" Today, I entice them so that they come: Give shade to me with your udders! I want to milk You cows on high! Milkwarm wisdom, sweet dew of love I pour over the land. Begone, begone, truths That gloomily watch over you! I do not want to see on my mountains Bitter impatient truths. Today the truth approaches Me with a gilded smile Sweetened by the sun, from bronzed love I break off only a ripe truth from the tree. Today I stretch out my hand To the curls of chance, Clever enough To lead chance along like a child, to outfox it. Today I want to be hospitable To the unwelcome, I don't even want to be sharp against destiny Zarathustra is not a hedgehog. My soul, Insatiable with its tongue, Has already licked all the good and bad things, It has dived down into every depth But ever like a cork, It always floats again to the top, It flits about like oil over brown seas: Thanks to this soul one calls me the happy one. Who are father and mother to me? Is not my father the prince of superabundance And my mother tranquil laughter? Did not these two in bond of marriage create Me, animal of enigmas, Me, unfriendly light, Me, prodigal of all wisdom, Zarathustra? Suffering today from tenderness, A thawing wind, Zarathustra waits seated, waits in his mountains In his own juice Becoming sweet and stewed, Underneath his summit, Underneath his ice,

Weary and blissful, A creator on his seventh day. Hush! A truth glides over me Like a cloud It strikes me with invisible lightning. Its happiness climbs slowly Unto me by broad stairs: Come, come, beloved truth! Hush! It s my truth! From demurring eyes, From velvet shudderings Its glance strikes at me, Charming, evil, the glance of a girl... She found the base of my happiness She found me ha! how did she figure it out? A crimson dragon lurks Within the abyss of her girl-glance. Hush! My truth speaks! Dear you, Zarathustra! You look like one Who has swallowed gold: One day they must slit open your belly!... You are too rich, You corruptor of many! You make too many envious, You make too many poor... I am cast into shadow by your light I shiver: go away, you rich one, Go, Zarathustra, away from your sun!... You would like to give, give away your superabundance, But you yourself are the superfluous one! Be clever, you rich one! First give away yourself, oh Zarathustra! For ten years now And no drop has reached you? No humid wind? no dew of love? But who ought to love thee as well, You over-rich-one? Your happiness creates nothing but aridity, Makes a dearth of love A rainless land... No one thanks you any longer, But you thank everyone Who takes from you: Hence, Over-rich-one, I see you as the poorest of all the rich ones! You sacrifice yourself, your wealth torments you, You give away yourself,

You don't take care of yourself, you don't love yourself; Great agony always compels you, The agony of an overflowing barn, an overabundant heart; But no one thanks you any longer... You must become poorer, Unwise wise one! If you wish to be loved. One loves only the suffering man, One gives love only to the hungry man: First give away yourself, oh Zarathustra! I am your truth...