查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
LIII. The Return Home.
O lonesomeness! My HOME, lonesomeness! Too long have I lived wildly inwild remoteness, to return to thee without tears!
Now threaten me with the finger as mothers threaten; now smile upon me asmothers smile; now say just: "Who was it that like a whirlwind once rushedaway from me?--
--Who when departing called out: 'Too long have I sat with lonesomeness;there have I unlearned silence!' THAT hast thou learned now--surely?
O Zarathustra, everything do I know; and that thou wert MORE FORSAKENamongst the many, thou unique one, than thou ever wert with me!
One thing is forsakenness, another matter is lonesomeness: THAT hast thounow learned! And that amongst men thou wilt ever be wild and strange:
--Wild and strange even when they love thee: for above all they want to beTREATED INDULGENTLY!
Here, however, art thou at home and house with thyself; here canst thouutter everything, and unbosom all motives; nothing is here ashamed ofconcealed, congealed feelings.
Here do all things come caressingly to thy talk and flatter thee: for theywant to ride upon thy back. On every simile dost thou here ride to everytruth.
Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to all things: and verily, itsoundeth as praise in their ears, for one to talk to all things--directly!
Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For, dost thou remember, OZarathustra? When thy bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in theforest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a corpse:--
--When thou spakest: 'Let mine animals lead me! More dangerous have Ifound it among men than among animals:'--THAT was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thou sattest in thine isle, awell of wine giving and granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing anddistributing amongst the thirsty:
--Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst the drunken ones, andwailedst nightly: 'Is taking not more blessed than giving? And stealingyet more blessed than taking?'--THAT was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy stillest hour came anddrove thee forth from thyself, when with wicked whispering it said: 'Speakand succumb!'-
--When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting and silence, and discouragedthy humble courage: THAT was forsakenness!"--
O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness! How blessedly and tenderlyspeaketh thy voice unto me!
We do not question each other, we do not complain to each other; we gotogether openly through open doors.
For all is open with thee and clear; and even the hours run here on lighterfeet. For in the dark, time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all being's words and word-cabinets: here all beingwanteth to become words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me how totalk.
Down there, however--all talking is in vain! There, forgetting andpassing-by are the best wisdom: THAT have I learned now!
He who would understand everything in man must handle everything. But forthat I have too clean hands.
I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas! that I have lived so longamong their noise and bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours around me! How from a deepbreast this stillness fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, thisblessed stillness!
But down there--there speaketh everything, there is everything misheard.If one announce one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-placewill out-jingle it with pennies!
Everything among them talketh; no one knoweth any longer how to understand.Everything falleth into the water; nothing falleth any longer into deepwells.
Everything among them talketh, nothing succeedeth any longer andaccomplisheth itself. Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietlyon the nest and hatch eggs?
Everything among them talketh, everything is out-talked. And that whichyesterday was still too hard for time itself and its tooth, hangeth to-day,outchamped and outchewed, from the mouths of the men of to-day.
Everything among them talketh, everything is betrayed. And what was oncecalled the secret and secrecy of profound souls, belongeth to-day to thestreet-trumpeters and other butterflies.
O human hubbub, thou wonderful thing! Thou noise in dark streets! Now artthou again behind me:--my greatest danger lieth behind me!
In indulging and pitying lay ever my greatest danger; and all human hubbubwisheth to be indulged and tolerated.
With suppressed truths, with fool's hand and befooled heart, and rich inpetty lies of pity:--thus have I ever lived among men.
Disguised did I sit amongst them, ready to misjudge MYSELF that I mightendure THEM, and willingly saying to myself: "Thou fool, thou dost notknow men!"
One unlearneth men when one liveth amongst them: there is too muchforeground in all men--what can far-seeing, far-longing eyes do THERE!
And, fool that I was, when they misjudged me, I indulged them on thataccount more than myself, being habitually hard on myself, and often eventaking revenge on myself for the indulgence.
Stung all over by poisonous flies, and hollowed like the stone by manydrops of wickedness: thus did I sit among them, and still said to myself:"Innocent is everything petty of its pettiness!"
Especially did I find those who call themselves "the good," the mostpoisonous flies; they sting in all innocence, they lie in all innocence;how COULD they--be just towards me!
He who liveth amongst the good--pity teacheth him to lie. Pity makethstifling air for all free souls. For the stupidity of the good isunfathomable.
each other, we do not complain!
To conceal myself and my riches--THAT did I learn down there: for everyone did I still find poor in spirit. It was the lie of my pity, that Iknew in every one,
--That I saw and scented in every one, what was ENOUGH of spirit for him,and what was TOO MUCH!
Their stiff wise men: I call them wise, not stiff--thus did I learn toslur over words.
The grave-diggers dig for themselves diseases. Under old rubbish rest badvapours. One should not stir up the marsh. One should live on mountains.
With blessed nostrils do I again breathe mountain-freedom. Freed at lastis my nose from the smell of all human hubbub!
With sharp breezes tickled, as with sparkling wine, SNEEZETH my soul--sneezeth, and shouteth self-congratulatingly: "Health to thee!"
Thus spake Zarathustra.