In the heights my table was set for you: —
Who lives so close to the stars
To the grey yonder of the abyss?
My realm—what realm stretches further?
And my honey—who has tasted it? .....
— There you are, friends!— Alas, but I am not
The one you wanted?
You hesitate, amazed—oh, you are quite sullen!
I—am no longer the same? Hands, face, gait have changed?
And what I am, to you friends—I am not?
I sought where the most biting wind blows?
I learned to live
Where no one lives, in desolate polar zones,
Unlearned man and god, curse and prayer?
Become a ghost who crosses glaciers?
Am I another? A stranger to myself?
Sprung from myself?
A wrestler, who too often subdued himself?
Too often resisted his own strength,
Wounded and stopped by his own victory?
No longer friends, they are—what should I call them?—
Nothing but ghosts of friends!
That knock at my heart and window nightly,
That look at me and say: "were we once friends?" —
— O withered word, once fragrant as the rose!
You turn away?— O heart, you have borne enough,
Your hope stayed strong:
Keep your door open to new friends!
Let the old go! Let the memories go!
Once you were young, now—you are younger!
What once tied us together, one hope's bond —
Who still reads the signs
Love once inscribed on it, the faded ones?
I compare it to parchment that the hand
Is afraid to grasp,—like parchment that is discolored, burnt.
I've become a wicked hunter!— Look how much
My bow is bent!
The strongest was he who drew his bow like this— —:
But now alas! No arrow is dangerous
As that arrow,—away from here! For your own good! .....
O longing of youth that misunderstood itself!
Those I longed for,
Those I deemed changed into my kin,
That they have aged has driven them away:
Only he who changes remains akin to me.
O noon of life! O time to celebrate!
O summer garden!
Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting: —
I await friends, ready day and night
Where are you friends? Come! It's time! It's time!
This song is over—the sweet cry of longing
Died in my mouth—
A sorceror did it, the friend at the right time,
The friend of noon—no! do not ask who he is—
At noon was the time one became two ...
O noon of life! Second time of youth!
O summer garden!
Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting!
I await friends, ready day and night,
New friends! Come! It's time! It's time!
Now we celebrate together, certain of victory,
The feast of feasts:
Friend Zarathustra has come, the guest of guests!
Now the world laughs, the dread curtain is rent,
The wedding has come for light and darkness .....
— My old friends! Now how pale you look!
Full of love and fear!
No, leave! Do not be angry! You—cannot live here:
Here among this most remote realm of ice and rock—
Here one has to be a hunter and chamois-like.