Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Zarathustra's Prologue

When Zarathustra was thirty years old, he left his home and the lake of his home and went into the mountains. Here he had the enjoyment of his spirit and his solitude and he did not weary of it for ten years. But at last, his heart turned - and one morning he rose with the dawn, stepped before the sun, and spoke to it thus:

 Great star! What would your happiness be, if you had not those for whom you shine!

 You have come up here to my cave for ten years: you would have grown weary of your light and of this journey without me, my eagle and my serpent.

 But we waited for you every morning, took from you your superfluity and blessed you for it.

 Behold! I am weary of my wisdom, like a bee that has gathered too much honey; I need hands outstretched to take it. I should like to give it away and distribute it, until the wise among men have become happy in their wealth.

 To that end, I must descend into the depths: as you do at evening when you go behind the sea and bring light to the underworld too, superabundant star!

 Like you, I must go down - as men, to whom I want to descend, call it.

 So bless me then, tranquil eye, that can behold without envy even in excessive happiness!

 Bless the cup that wants to overflow, that the waters may flow golden from him and bear the   reflection of your joy over all the world!

 Behold! This cup wants to be empty again, and Zarathustra wants to be a man again.

Thus began Zarathustra's down-going.

Zarathustra went down the mountain alone, and no one met him. But when he entered the forest, an old man, who had left his holy hut to look for roots in the forest, suddenly stood before him. And the old man spoke thus to Zarathustra:

 'This wanderer is no stranger to me: he passed by here many years ago. He was called Zarathustra; but he has changed.

 'Then you carried your ashes to the mountain: will you today carry your fire into the valley? Do you not fear an incendiary's punishment?

'Yes, I recognize Zarathustra. His eyes were clear, and no disgust lurks his mouth. Does he not go along like a dancer?

'How changed Zarathustra is! Zarathustra has become - a child, an awakened one: what do you want now with the sleepers?

'You lived in solitude as in the sea, and the sea bore you. Alas, do you want to go ashore? Alas, do you want again to drag your body yourself?'

Zarathustra replied: 'I love mankind.'

'Why', said the saint, 'did I go into the forest and the desert? Was it not because I loved mankind all too much?

'Now I love God: mankind I do not love. Man is too imperfect a thing for me. Love of mankind would destroy me.'  

Zarathustra answered: 'What did I say of love? I am bringing mankind a gift.'

'Give them nothing', said the saint. 'Rather take something off them and bear it with them - that will please them best if only it be pleasing to you!

'And if you want to give to them, give no more than an alms, and let them beg for that!'

'No,' answered Zarathustra, 'I give no alms. I am not poor enough for that.'

The saint laughed at Zarathustra, and spoke thus: 'See to it that they accept your treasures! They are mistrustful of hermits, and do not believe that we come to give.

'Our steps ring too lonely through their streets. And when at night they hear in their beds a man going by long before the sun has risen, they probably ask themselves: Where is that thief going?