查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
XXXII. The Dance-Song.
One evening went Zarathustra and his disciples through the forest; and whenhe sought for a well, lo, he lighted upon a green meadow peacefullysurrounded with trees and bushes, where maidens were dancing together. Assoon as the maidens recognised Zarathustra, they ceased dancing;Zarathustra, however, approached them with friendly mein and spake thesewords:
Cease not your dancing, ye lovely maidens! No game-spoiler hath come toyou with evil eye, no enemy of maidens.
God's advocate am I with the devil: he, however, is the spirit of gravity.How could I, ye light-footed ones, be hostile to divine dances? Or tomaidens' feet with fine ankles?
To be sure, I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is notafraid of my darkness, will find banks full of roses under my cypresses.
And even the little God may he find, who is dearest to maidens: beside thewell lieth he quietly, with closed eyes.
Verily, in broad daylight did he fall asleep, the sluggard! Had he perhapschased butterflies too much?
her eye, her laugh, and even her.
Upbraid me not, ye beautiful dancers, when I chasten the little Godsomewhat! He will cry, certainly, and weep--but he is laughable even whenweeping!
the song that Zarathustra?
And with tears in his eyes shall he ask you for a dance; and I myself willsing a song to his dance:
A dance-song and satire on the spirit of gravity my supremest, powerfulestdevil, who is said to be "lord of the world."--
And this is the song that Zarathustra sang when Cupid and the maidensdanced together:
Of late did I gaze into thine eye, O Life! And into the unfathomable did Ithere seem to sink.
But thou pulledst me out with a golden angle; derisively didst thou laughwhen I called thee unfathomable.
"Such is the language of all fish," saidst thou; "what THEY do not fathomis unfathomable.
But changeable am I only, and wild, and altogether a woman, and no virtuousone:
Though I be called by you men the 'profound one,' or the 'faithful one,''the eternal one,' 'the mysterious one.'
But ye men endow us always with your own virtues--alas, ye virtuous ones!"
And when I talked face to face with my wild Wisdom, she said to me angrily:"Thou willest, thou cravest, thou lovest; on that account alone dost thouPRAISE Life!"
not folly stillto .
Then had I almost answered indignantly and told the truth to the angry one;and one cannot answer more indignantly than when one "telleth the truth" toone's Wisdom.
For thus do things stand with us three. In my heart do I love only Life--and verily, most when I hate her!
But that I am fond of Wisdom, and often too fond, is because she remindethme very strongly of Life!
She hath her eye, her laugh, and even her golden angle-rod: am Iresponsible for it that both are so alike?
And when once Life asked me: "Who is she then, this Wisdom?"--then said Ieagerly: "Ah, yes! Wisdom!
One thirsteth for her and is not satisfied, one looketh through veils, onegraspeth through nets.
Is she beautiful? What do I know! But the oldest carps are still lured byher.
Changeable is she, and wayward; often have I seen her bite her lip, andpass the comb against the grain of her hair.
Perhaps she is wicked and false, and altogether a woman; but when shespeaketh ill of herself, just then doth she seduce most."
When I had said this unto Life, then laughed she maliciously, and shut hereyes. "Of whom dost thou speak?" said she. "Perhaps of me?
And if thou wert right--is it proper to say THAT in such wise to my face!But now, pray, speak also of thy Wisdom!"
Ah, and now hast thou again opened thine eyes, O beloved Life! And intothe unfathomable have I again seemed to sink.--
Thus sang Zarathustra. But when the dance was over and the maidens haddeparted, he became sad.
"The sun hath been long set," said he at last, "the meadow is damp, andfrom the forest cometh coolness.
An unknown presence is about me, and gazeth thoughtfully. What! Thoulivest still, Zarathustra?
Why? Wherefore? Whereby? Whither? Where? How? Is it not folly stillto live?--
is because she remindethme very!
Ah, my friends; the evening is it which thus interrogateth in me. Forgiveme my sadness!
Evening hath come on: forgive me that evening hath come on!"
Thus sang Zarathustra.