查拉图斯特拉如是说 英文版 Thus Spake Zarathustra
尼采 Friedrich Nietzsche
LXIX. The Shadow.
Scarcely however was the voluntary beggar gone in haste, and Zarathustraagain alone, when he heard behind him a new voice which called out: "Stay!Zarathustra! Do wait! It is myself, forsooth, O Zarathustra, myself, thyshadow!" But Zarathustra did not wait; for a sudden irritation came overhim on account of the crowd and the crowding in his mountains. "Whitherhath my lonesomeness gone?" spake he.
"It is verily becoming too much for me; these mountains swarm; my kingdomis no longer of THIS world; I require new mountains.
My shadow calleth me? What matter about my shadow! Let it run after me!I--run away from it."
Thus spake Zarathustra to his heart and ran away. But the one behindfollowed after him, so that immediately there were three runners, one afterthe other--namely, foremost the voluntary beggar, then Zarathustra, andthirdly, and hindmost, his shadow. But not long had they run thus whenZarathustra became conscious of his folly, and shook off with one jerk allhis irritation and detestation.
"What!" said he, "have not the most ludicrous things always happened to usold anchorites and saints?
Verily, my folly hath grown big in the mountains! Now do I hear six oldfools' legs rattling behind one another!
But doth Zarathustra need to be frightened by his shadow? Also, methinkeththat after all it hath longer legs thin mine."
Thus spake Zarathustra, and, laughing with eyes and entrails, he stoodstill and turned round quickly--and behold, he almost thereby threw hisshadow and follower to the ground, so closely had the latter followed athis heels, and so weak was he. For when Zarathustra scrutinised him withhis glance he was frightened as by a sudden apparition, so slender,swarthy, hollow and worn-out did this follower appear.
"Who art thou?" asked Zarathustra vehemently, "what doest thou here? Andwhy callest thou thyself my shadow? Thou art not pleasing unto me."
"Forgive me," answered the shadow, "that it is I; and if I please thee not--well, O Zarathustra! therein do I admire thee and thy good taste.
A wanderer am I, who have walked long at thy heels; always on the way, butwithout a goal, also without a home: so that verily, I lack little ofbeing the eternally Wandering Jew, except that I am not eternal and not aJew.
What? Must I ever be on the way? Whirled by every wind, unsettled, drivenabout? O earth, thou hast become too round for me!
On every surface have I already sat, like tired dust have I fallen asleepon mirrors and window-panes: everything taketh from me, nothing giveth; Ibecome thin--I am almost equal to a shadow.
After thee, however, O Zarathustra, did I fly and hie longest; and though Ihid myself from thee, I was nevertheless thy best shadow: wherever thouhast sat, there sat I also.
With thee have I wandered about in the remotest, coldest worlds, like aphantom that voluntarily haunteth winter roofs and snows.
With thee have I pushed into all the forbidden, all the worst and thefurthest: and if there be anything of virtue in me, it is that I have hadno fear of any prohibition.
With thee have I broken up whatever my heart revered; all boundary-stonesand statues have I o'erthrown; the most dangerous wishes did I pursue,--verily, beyond every crime did I once go.
With thee did I unlearn the belief in words and worths and in great names.When the devil casteth his skin, doth not his name also fall away? It isalso skin. The devil himself is perhaps--skin.
'Nothing is true, all is permitted': so said I to myself. Into thecoldest water did I plunge with head and heart. Ah, how oft did I standthere naked on that account, like a red crab!
Ah, where have gone all my goodness and all my shame and all my belief inthe good! Ah, where is the lying innocence which I once possessed, theinnocence of the good and of their noble lies!
Too oft, verily, did I follow close to the heels of truth: then did itkick me on the face. Sometimes I meant to lie, and behold! then only did Ihit--the truth.
Too much hath become clear unto me: now it doth not concern me any more.Nothing liveth any longer that I love,--how should I still love myself?
'To live as I incline, or not to live at all': so do I wish; so wishethalso the holiest. But alas! how have _I_ still--inclination?
Have _I_--still a goal? A haven towards which MY sail is set?
A good wind? Ah, he only who knoweth WHITHER he saileth, knoweth what windis good, and a fair wind for him.
What still remaineth to me? A heart weary and flippant; an unstable will;fluttering wings; a broken backbone.
This seeking for MY home: O Zarathustra, dost thou know that this seekinghath been MY home-sickening; it eateth me up.
'WHERE is--MY home?' For it do I ask and seek, and have sought, but havenot found it. O eternal everywhere, O eternal nowhere, O eternal--in-vain!"
Thus spake the shadow, and Zarathustra's countenance lengthened at hiswords. "Thou art my shadow!" said he at last sadly.
"Thy danger is not small, thou free spirit and wanderer! Thou hast had abad day: see that a still worse evening doth not overtake thee!
To such unsettled ones as thou, seemeth at last even a prisoner blessed.Didst thou ever see how captured criminals sleep? They sleep quietly, theyenjoy their new security.
Beware lest in the end a narrow faith capture thee, a hard, rigorousdelusion! For now everything that is narrow and fixed seduceth andtempteth thee.
Thou hast lost thy goal. Alas, how wilt thou forego and forget that loss?Thereby--hast thou also lost thy way!
Thou poor rover and rambler, thou tired butterfly! wilt thou have a restand a home this evening? Then go up to my cave!
Thither leadeth the way to my cave. And now will I run quickly away fromthee again. Already lieth as it were a shadow upon me.
I will run alone, so that it may again become bright around me. Thereforemust I still be a long time merrily upon my legs. In the evening, however,there will be--dancing with me!"--
Thus spake Zarathustra.