Existentialism
Friedrich Nietzsche
(1844 - 1900)
Thus Spake Zarathustra
|
A
sublime one saw I today, a solemn one, a penitent of the
spirit: Oh, how my soul laughed at his ugliness! (thus
spake zarathustra) |
53.The Return Home
O LONESOMENESS! My home, lonesomeness!
Too long have I lived wildly in wild remoteness, to return
to thee without tears!
Now threaten me with the finger
as mothers threaten; now smile upon me as mothers smile; now
say just: "Who was it that like a whirlwind once rushed
away 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 forsaken amongst the many,
thou unique one, than thou ever wert with me!
One thing is forsakenness,
another matter is lonesomeness: that hast thou now 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 be treated indulgently!
Here, however, art thou at
home and house with thyself; here canst thou utter everything,
and unbosom all motives; nothing is here ashamed of concealed,
congealed feelings.
Here do all things come caressingly
to thy talk and flatter thee: for they want to ride upon thy
back. On every simile dost thou here ride to every truth.
Uprightly and openly mayest
thou here talk to all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise
in their ears, for one to talk to all things- directly!
Another matter, however, is
forsakenness. For, dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When
thy bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the forest,
irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a corpse:-When thou
spakest: 'Let mine animals lead me! More dangerous have I
found it among men than among animals:'- That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra?
When thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and
granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and distributing
amongst the thirsty:
-Until at last thou alone sattest
thirsty amongst the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: 'Is
taking not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet more
blessed than taking?'- That was forsakenness!
And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra?
When thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from thyself,
when with wicked whispering it said: 'Speak and succumb!'-When
it disgusted thee with all thy waiting and silence, and discouraged
thy humble courage: That was forsakenness!"O lonesomeness!
My home, lonesomeness! How blessedly and tenderly speaketh
thy voice unto me!
We do not question each other,
we do not complain to each other; we go together openly through
open doors.
For all is open with thee and
clear; and even the hours run here on lighter feet. For in
the dark, time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.
Here fly open unto me all beings'
words and word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become
words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me how to talk.
Down there, however- all talking
is in vain! There, forgetting and passing-by are the best
wisdom: that have I learned now!
He who would understand everything
in man must handle everything. But for that I have too clean
hands.
I do not like even to inhale
their breath; alas! that I have lived so long among their
noise and bad breaths!
O blessed stillness around
me! O pure odours around me! How from a deep breast this stillness
fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this blessed stillness!
But down there- there speaketh
everything, there is everything misheard. If one announce
one's wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-place will
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 deep wells.
Everything among them talketh,
nothing succeedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself. Everything
cackleth, but who will still sit quietly on the nest and hatch
eggs?
Everything among them talketh,
everything is out-talked. And that which yesterday was still
too hard for time itself and its tooth, hangeth today, outchamped
and outchewed, from the mouths of the men of today.
Everything among them talketh,
everything is betrayed. And what was once called the secret
and secrecy of profound souls, belongeth to-day to the street-trumpeters
and other butterflies.
O human hubbub, thou wonderful
thing! Thou noise in dark streets! Now art thou again behind
me:- my greatest danger lieth behind me!
In indulging and pitying lay
ever my greatest danger; and all human hubbub wisheth to be
indulged and tolerated.
With suppressed truths, with
fool's hand and befooled heart, and rich in petty lies of
pity:- thus have I ever lived among men.
Disguised did I sit amongst
them, ready to misjudge myself that I might endure them, and
willingly saying to myself: "Thou fool, thou dost not
know men!"
One unlearneth men when one
liveth amongst them: there is too much foreground 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 that account more than
myself, being habitually hard on myself, and often even taking
revenge on myself for the indulgence.
Stung all over by poisonous
flies, and hollowed like the stone by many drops 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 most poisonous
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 maketh stifling air for all
free souls. For the stupidity of the good is unfathomable.
To conceal myself and my riches-
that did I learn down there: for every one did I still find
poor in spirit. It was the lie of my pity, that I knew 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 to slur over words.
The grave-diggers dig for themselves
diseases. Under old rubbish rest bad vapours. One should not
stir up the marsh. One should live on mountains.
With blessed nostrils do I
again breathe mountain-freedom. Freed at last is 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.
Ce
qu'on fait n'est jamais compris mais seulement loué ou blâmé.
Nietzsche, Gay Science |
