查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
LXI. The Honey Sacrifice.
--And again passed moons and years over Zarathustra's soul, and he heededit not; his hair, however, became white. One day when he sat on a stone infront of his cave, and gazed calmly into the distance--one there gazeth outon the sea, and away beyond sinuous abysses,--then went his animalsthoughtfully round about him, and at last set themselves in front of him.
"O Zarathustra," said they, "gazest thou out perhaps for thy happiness?"--"Of what account is my happiness!" answered he, "I have long ceased tostrive any more for happiness, I strive for my work."--"O Zarathustra,"said the animals once more, "that sayest thou as one who hath overmuch ofgood things. Liest thou not in a sky-blue lake of happiness?"--"Ye wags,"answered Zarathustra, and smiled, "how well did ye choose the simile! Butye know also that my happiness is heavy, and not like a fluid wave ofwater: it presseth me and will not leave me, and is like molten pitch."--
Then went his animals again thoughtfully around him, and placed themselvesonce more in front of him. "O Zarathustra," said they, "it is consequentlyFOR THAT REASON that thou thyself always becometh yellower and darker,although thy hair looketh white and flaxen? Lo, thou sittest in thypitch!"--"What do ye say, mine animals?" said Zarathustra, laughing;"verily I reviled when I spake of pitch. As it happeneth with me, so is itwith all fruits that turn ripe. It is the HONEY in my veins that maketh myblood thicker, and also my soul stiller."--"So will it be, O Zarathustra,"answered his animals, and pressed up to him; "but wilt thou not to-dayascend a high mountain? The air is pure, and to-day one seeth more of theworld than ever."--"Yea, mine animals," answered he, "ye counsel admirablyand according to my heart: I will to-day ascend a high mountain! But seethat honey is there ready to hand, yellow, white, good, ice-cool, golden-comb-honey. For know that when aloft I will make the honey-sacrifice."--
When Zarathustra, however, was aloft on the summit, he sent his animalshome that had accompanied him, and found that he was now alone:--then helaughed from the bottom of his heart, looked around him, and spake thus:
That I spake of sacrifices and honey-sacrifices, it was merely a ruse intalking and verily, a useful folly! Here aloft can I now speak freer thanin front of mountain-caves and anchorites' domestic animals.
What to sacrifice! I squander what is given me, a squanderer with athousand hands: how could I call that--sacrificing?
And when I desired honey I only desired bait, and sweet mucus and mucilage,for which even the mouths of growling bears, and strange, sulky, evilbirds, water:
--The best bait, as huntsmen and fishermen require it. For if the world beas a gloomy forest of animals, and a pleasure-ground for all wild huntsmen,it seemeth to me rather--and preferably--a fathomless, rich sea;
--A sea full of many-hued fishes and crabs, for which even the Gods mightlong, and might be tempted to become fishers in it, and casters of nets,--so rich is the world in wonderful things, great and small!
Especially the human world, the human sea:--towards IT do I now throw outmy golden angle-rod and say: Open up, thou human abyss!
Open up, and throw unto me thy fish and shining crabs! With my best baitshall I allure to myself to-day the strangest human fish!
--My happiness itself do I throw out into all places far and wide 'twixtorient, noontide, and occident, to see if many human fish will not learn tohug and tug at my happiness;--
Until, biting at my sharp hidden hooks, they have to come up unto MYheight, the motleyest abyss-groundlings, to the wickedest of all fishers ofmen.
For THIS am I from the heart and from the beginning--drawing, hither-drawing, upward-drawing, upbringing; a drawer, a trainer, a training-master, who not in vain counselled himself once on a time: "Become whatthou art!"
Thus may men now come UP to me; for as yet do I await the signs that it istime for my down-going; as yet do I not myself go down, as I must do,amongst men.
Therefore do I here wait, crafty and scornful upon high mountains, noimpatient one, no patient one; rather one who hath even unlearnt patience,--because he no longer "suffereth."
For my fate giveth me time: it hath forgotten me perhaps? Or doth it sitbehind a big stone and catch flies?
And verily, I am well-disposed to mine eternal fate, because it doth nothound and hurry me, but leaveth me time for merriment and mischief; so thatI have to-day ascended this high mountain to catch fish.
Did ever any one catch fish upon high mountains? And though it be a follywhat I here seek and do, it is better so than that down below I shouldbecome solemn with waiting, and green and yellow--
--A posturing wrath-snorter with waiting, a holy howl-storm from themountains, an impatient one that shouteth down into the valleys: "Hearken,else I will scourge you with the scourge of God!"
squanderer with athousand hands: how could I call.
Not that I would have a grudge against such wrathful ones on that account:they are well enough for laughter to me! Impatient must they now be, thosebig alarm-drums, which find a voice now or never!
Myself, however, and my fate--we do not talk to the Present, neither do wetalk to the Never: for talking we have patience and time and more thantime. For one day must it yet come, and may not pass by.
What must one day come and may not pass by? Our great Hazar, that is tosay, our great, remote human-kingdom, the Zarathustra-kingdom of a thousandyears--
How remote may such "remoteness" be? What doth it concern me? But on thataccount it is none the less sure unto me--, with both feet stand I secureon this ground;
--On an eternal ground, on hard primary rock, on this highest, hardest,primary mountain-ridge, unto which all winds come, as unto the storm-parting, asking Where? and Whence? and Whither?
Here laugh, laugh, my hearty, healthy wickedness! From high mountains castdown thy glittering scorn-laughter! Allure for me with thy glittering thefinest human fish!
And whatever belongeth unto ME in all seas, my in-and-for-me in all things--fish THAT out for me, bring THAT up to me: for that do I wait, thewickedest of all fish-catchers.
Out! out! my fishing-hook! In and down, thou bait of my happiness! Dripthy sweetest dew, thou honey of my heart! Bite, my fishing-hook, into thebelly of all black affliction!
Look out, look out, mine eye! Oh, how many seas round about me, whatdawning human futures! And above me--what rosy red stillness! Whatunclouded silence!