Franz Kafka (1883 - 1924)
hast mich letzthin einmal gefragt, warum ich behaupte,
ich hätte Furcht vor Dir
vulture was hacking at my feet. It had already torn my boots
and stockings to shreds, now it was hacking at the feet themselves.
Again and again it struck at them, then circled several times
restlessly round me, then returned to continue its work. A
gentleman passed by, looked on for a while, then asked me
why I suffered the vulture. "I'm helpless," I said. "When
it came and began to attack me, I of course tried to drive
it away, even to strangle it, but these animals are very strong,
it was about to spring at my face, but I preferred to sacrifice
my feet. Now they are almost torn to bits." "Fancy letting
yourself be tortured like this!" said the gentleman. "One
shot and that's the end of the vulture." "Really ?" I said.
"And would you do that?" "With pleasure," said the gentleman,
"I've only got to go home and get my gun. Could you wait another
half hour?" "I'm not sure about that," said I, and stood for
a moment rigid with pain. Then I said: "Do try it in any case,
please." "Very well," said the gentleman, "I'll be as quick
as I can." During this conversation the vulture had been calmly
listening, letting its eye rove between me and the gentleman.
Now I realized that it had understood everything; it took
wing, leaned far back to gain impetus, and then, like a javelin
thrower, thrust its beak through my mouth, deep into me. Falling
back, I was relieved to feel him drowning irretrievably in
my blood, which was filling every depth, flooding every shore.
qu'on fait n'est jamais compris mais seulement loué ou blâmé.
Nietzsche, Gay Science