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say, for thyself and those like thee, and whoever else
require it! I have no reason to cover my nakedness! One
suspects that this kind of divinity and philosopher perhaps
lacks shame? He once said: Under certain circumstances
I love mankind and referred thereby to Ariadne, who
was present; in my opinion man is an agreeable, brave,
inventive animal, that has not his equal upon earth, he
makes his way even through all labyrinths. I like man, and
often think how I can still further advance him, and make
him stronger, more evil, and more profound. Stronger,
more evil, and more profound? I asked in horror. Yes,
he said again, stronger, more evil, and more profound;
also more beautiful and thereby the tempter-god smiled
with his halcyon smile, as though he had just paid some
charming compliment. One here sees at once that it is not
only shame that this divinity lacks; and in general there
are good grounds for supposing that in some things the
Gods could all of them come to us men for instruction.
We men are more human.
296. Alas! what are you, after all, my written and
painted thoughts! Not long ago you were so variegated,
young and malicious, so full of thorns and secret spices,
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Beyond Good and Evil
that you made me sneeze and laugh and now? You have
already doffed your novelty, and some of you, I fear, are
ready to become truths, so immortal do they look, so
pathetically honest, so tedious! And was it ever otherwise?
What then do we write and paint, we mandarins with
Chinese brush, we immortalisers of things which LEND
themselves to writing, what are we alone capable of
painting? Alas, only that which is just about to fade and
begins to lose its odour! Alas, only exhausted and
departing storms and belated yellow sentiments! Alas, only
birds strayed and fatigued by flight, which now let
themselves be captured with the hand with OUR hand!
We immortalize what cannot live and fly much longer,
things only which are exhausted and mellow! And it is
only for your AFTERNOON, you, my written and
painted thoughts, for which alone I have colours, many
colours, perhaps, many variegated softenings, and fifty
yellows and browns and greens and reds; but nobody
will divine thereby how ye looked in your morning, you
sudden sparks and marvels of my solitude, you, my old,
beloved EVIL thoughts!
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Beyond Good and Evil
FROM THE HEIGHTS
By F W Nietzsche
Translated by L A Magnus
1.
MIDDAY of Life! Oh, season of delight!
My summer s park!
Uneaseful joy to look, to lurk, to hark
I peer for friends, am ready day and night,
Where linger ye, my friends? The time is right!
2.
Is not the glacier s grey today for you
Rose-garlanded?
The brooklet seeks you, wind, cloud, with longing thread
And thrust themselves yet higher to the blue,
To spy for you from farthest eagle s view
3.
My table was spread out for you on high
Who dwelleth so
Star-near, so near the grisly pit below?
My realm what realm hath wider boundary?
My honey who hath sipped its fragrancy?
4.
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Friends, ye are there! Woe me, yet I am not
He whom ye seek?
Ye stare and stop better your wrath could speak!
I am not I? Hand, gait, face, changed? And what
I am, to you my friends, now am I not?
5.
Am I an other? Strange am I to Me?
Yet from Me sprung?
A wrestler, by himself too oft self-wrung?
Hindering too oft my own self s potency,
Wounded and hampered by self-victory?
6.
I sought where-so the wind blows keenest. There
I learned to dwell
Where no man dwells, on lonesome ice-lorn fell,
And unlearned Man and God and curse and prayer?
Became a ghost haunting the glaciers bare?
7.
Ye, my old friends! Look! Ye turn pale, filled o er
With love and fear!
Go! Yet not in wrath. Ye could ne er live here.
Here in the farthest realm of ice and scaur,
A huntsman must one be, like chamois soar.
8.
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An evil huntsman was I? See how taut
My bow was bent!
Strongest was he by whom such bolt were sent
Woe now! That arrow is with peril fraught,
Perilous as none. Have yon safe home ye sought!
9.
Ye go! Thou didst endure enough, oh, heart;
Strong was thy hope;
Unto new friends thy portals widely ope,
Let old ones be. Bid memory depart!
Wast thou young then, now better young thou art!
10.
What linked us once together, one hope s tie
(Who now doth con
Those lines, now fading, Love once wrote thereon?)
Is like a parchment, which the hand is shy
To touch like crackling leaves, all seared, all dry.
11.
Oh! Friends no more! They are what name for those?
Friends phantom-flight
Knocking at my heart s window-pane at night,
Gazing on me, that speaks We were and goes,
Oh, withered words, once fragrant as the rose!
12.
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Pinings of youth that might not understand!
For which I pined,
Which I deemed changed with me, kin of my kind:
But they grew old, and thus were doomed and banned:
None but new kith are native of my land!
13.
Midday of life! My second youth s delight!
My summer s park!
Unrestful joy to long, to lurk, to hark!
I peer for friends! am ready day and night,
For my new friends. Come! Come! The time is right!
14.
This song is done, the sweet sad cry of rue
Sang out its end;
A wizard wrought it, he the timely friend,
The midday-friend, no, do not ask me who;
At midday twas, when one became as two.
15.
We keep our Feast of Feasts, sure of our bourne,
Our aims self-same:
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