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.