查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
LXII. The Cry of Distress.
The next day sat Zarathustra again on the stone in front of his cave,whilst his animals roved about in the world outside to bring home newfood,--also new honey: for Zarathustra had spent and wasted the old honeyto the very last particle. When he thus sat, however, with a stick in hishand, tracing the shadow of his figure on the earth, and reflecting--verily! not upon himself and his shadow,--all at once he startled andshrank back: for he saw another shadow beside his own. And when hehastily looked around and stood up, behold, there stood the soothsayerbeside him, the same whom he had once given to eat and drink at his table,the proclaimer of the great weariness, who taught: "All is alike, nothingis worth while, the world is without meaning, knowledge strangleth." Buthis face had changed since then; and when Zarathustra looked into his eyes,his heart was startled once more: so much evil announcement and ashy-greylightnings passed over that countenance.
The soothsayer, who had perceived what went on in Zarathustra's soul, wipedhis face with his hand, as if he would wipe out the impression; the samedid also Zarathustra. And when both of them had thus silently composed andstrengthened themselves, they gave each other the hand, as a token thatthey wanted once more to recognise each other.
"Welcome hither," said Zarathustra, "thou soothsayer of the greatweariness, not in vain shalt thou once have been my messmate and guest.Eat and drink also with me to-day, and forgive it that a cheerful old mansitteth with thee at table!"--"A cheerful old man?" answered thesoothsayer, shaking his head, "but whoever thou art, or wouldst be, OZarathustra, thou hast been here aloft the longest time,--in a little whilethy bark shall no longer rest on dry land!"--"Do I then rest on dry land?"--asked Zarathustra, laughing.--"The waves around thy mountain," answeredthe soothsayer, "rise and rise, the waves of great distress and affliction:they will soon raise thy bark also and carry thee away."--Thereupon wasZarathustra silent and wondered.--"Dost thou still hear nothing?" continuedthe soothsayer: "doth it not rush and roar out of the depth?"--Zarathustrawas silent once more and listened: then heard he a long, long cry, whichthe abysses threw to one another and passed on; for none of them wished toretain it: so evil did it sound.
"Thou ill announcer," said Zarathustra at last, "that is a cry of distress,and the cry of a man; it may come perhaps out of a black sea. But whatdoth human distress matter to me! My last sin which hath been reserved forme,--knowest thou what it is called?"
--"PITY!" answered the soothsayer from an overflowing heart, and raisedboth his hands aloft--"O Zarathustra, I have come that I may seduce thee tothy last sin!"--
And hardly had those words been uttered when there sounded the cry oncemore, and longer and more alarming than before--also much nearer. "Hearestthou? Hearest thou, O Zarathustra?" called out the soothsayer, "the cryconcerneth thee, it calleth thee: Come, come, come; it is time, it is thehighest time!"--
for thee!" thou hast been here aloft the longest time,-.
Zarathustra was silent thereupon, confused and staggered; at last he asked,like one who hesitateth in himself: "And who is it that there calleth me?"
"But thou knowest it, certainly," answered the soothsayer warmly, "why dostthou conceal thyself? It is THE HIGHER MAN that crieth for thee!"
"The higher man?" cried Zarathustra, horror-stricken: "what wanteth HE?What wanteth HE? The higher man! What wanteth he here?"--and his skincovered with perspiration.
The soothsayer, however, did not heed Zarathustra's alarm, but listened andlistened in the downward direction. When, however, it had been still therefor a long while, he looked behind, and saw Zarathustra standing trembling.
"O Zarathustra," he began, with sorrowful voice, "thou dost not stand therelike one whose happiness maketh him giddy: thou wilt have to dance lestthou tumble down!
But although thou shouldst dance before me, and leap all thy side-leaps, noone may say unto me: 'Behold, here danceth the last joyous man!'
In vain would any one come to this height who sought HIM here: caves wouldhe find, indeed, and back-caves, hiding-places for hidden ones; but notlucky mines, nor treasure-chambers, nor new gold-veins of happiness.
Happiness--how indeed could one find happiness among such buried-alive andsolitary ones! Must I yet seek the last happiness on the Happy Isles, andfar away among forgotten seas?
But all is alike, nothing is worth while, no seeking is of service, thereare no longer any Happy Isles!"--
Cease to splash THEREON, thou rain-cloud of the forenoon! Do I not alreadystand here wet with thy misery, and drenched like a dog?
Now do I shake myself and run away from thee, that I may again become dry:thereat mayest thou not wonder! Do I seem to thee discourteous? Herehowever is MY court.
But as regards the higher man: well! I shall seek him at once in thoseforests: FROM THENCE came his cry. Perhaps he is there hard beset by anevil beast.
He is in MY domain: therein shall he receive no scath! And verily, thereare many evil beasts about me."--
I know it well: thou wouldst fain be rid of me! Rather wouldst thou runinto the forest and lay snares for evil beasts!
But what good will it do thee? In the evening wilt thou have me again: inthine own cave will I sit, patient and heavy like a block--and wait forthee!"
Shouldst thou however find honey therein, well! just lick it up, thougrowling bear, and sweeten thy soul! For in the evening we want both to bein good spirits;
--In good spirits and joyful, because this day hath come to an end! Andthou thyself shalt dance to my lays, as my dancing-bear.
Thou dost not believe this? Thou shakest thy head? Well! Cheer up, oldbear! But I also--am a soothsayer."
Thus spake Zarathustra.