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59 - Thus Spake Zarathustra - Friedrich Nietzsche · Logic Library

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  Part three, Chapter fifty nine. The second Dance song One into thine eyes
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  gaz'd I lately o life gold saw I gleam in thy night eyes. My
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  heart stood still with delight. A gold bark sare I gleam on darken'd waters,
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  A sinking, drinking, reblinking golden swing bark at my dance frantic foot,
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  dost thou cast a glance, a laughing, questioning, melting thrown glance.
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  Twice only movest thou rattl'd with thy little hand. Then did my feet
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  swing with dance fury. My heels rear'd aloft my toes. They hearken'd thee.
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  They would know, hath not the dancer his ear in his toe into
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  thee? Did I spring? Thou fledst thou back from my bound and towards
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  me, waving thy fleeing flying tresses around away from thee? Did I spring
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  and from thy snaky tresses? Then stoodt thou there, half turned, and
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  in thine eye caresses with crooked glances, Dost thou teach me crooked courses,
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  on crooked courses, learn my feet crafty fancies. I fear thee near,
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  I love thee far thy flight allureth me thy seeking secureth me I suffer but
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  for THEE? What would I not gladly bear for THEE? Whose coldness inflameth,
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  Whose hatred misleadeth, whose flight enshameeth, whose mockery pleadeth. Who would
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  not hate thee? Thou great bind dress in wind dress, temptress, seekress,
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  fine dress? Who would not love thee? Thou innocent, impatient,
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  wind, swift, child eyed sinner? Whither pullest thou me now thou paragon
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  and tomboy, And now foolest thou my fleeing Thou sweet romp dost annoy?
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  I dance after THEE? I follow even faint traces, lonely. Where art
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  thou give me thy hand or thy finger? Only here are caves and thickets.
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  We shall go astray, halt, stand still, seest thou not owls
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  and bats in the fluttering fray? Thou bat thou owl? Wouldst thou play
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  me foul? Where are we from the dogs? Hast thou learned thus to
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  bark and howl? Thou nashest on me sweetly with little white teeth. Thine
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  evil eye shooteth out upon me, thy curly little mane. From underneath this
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  is thy dance over stock and stone? I am the hunter. Wilt thou
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  be my hound or my chamiennon? Now beside me? And quickly wickedly springing
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  now up and over alas haveth fallen over myself over swinging. Oh see me
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  lying thou arrogant one, and imploring grace gladly? Would I walk with thee
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  in some lovelier place, in the paths of love, through bushes variegated quiet
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  trim, or there along the lake where gold fishes dance and swim? Art
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  thou now weary? There above are sheep and sunset strips? Is it not
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  sweet to sleep? The shepherd pipes? Thou art so very weary? I
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  carry thee thither. Let just thine arms sink, and art thou thirsty?
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  I should have something, but thy mouth would not like it to drink.
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  Oh that cursed nimble supple serpent and lurking witch. Where art thou gone?
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  But in my face do I feel through thy hand two spots and red blotches
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  of itch? I am verily weary of it. Ever, thy sheepish shepherd,
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  to be thou witch? If I have hitherto sung unto thee, now
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  shalt thou cry unto me to the rhythm of my whip, shalt thou dance
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  and cry I forget not my whip, not I two. Then did life
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  answer me thus, and thereby kept her fine ears closed, O, Zarathustra,
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  crack not so terribly with thy whip. Thou knowest surely that noise killeth
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  thought, and just now there came to me such delicate thoughts. We are
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  both of us genuine, ne'er do wells and ne'er do ills, beyond good
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  and evil found. We are our island and our green meadow. We two
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  alone. Therefore, must we be friendly to each other? And even should
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  we not love each other from the bottom of our hearts, must we then
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  have a grudge against each other if we do not love each other perfectly?
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  And that I am friendly to thee and often too friendly, that knowest thou,
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  and the reason that I am envious of thy wisdom, Ah, this
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  mad old fool wisdom. If thy wisdom should one day run away from thee,
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  Ah, then also would my love run away from thee quickly? Whereupon
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  did life look thoughtfully behind and around, and said, softly, Oh,
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  Zarathustra, thou art not faithful enough to me. Thou lovest me, not
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  nearly so much as thou sayest I know, thou thinkest of soon leaving me.
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  There is an old, heavy, heavy booming clock. It boometh by
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  night up to thy cave. When thou hearest this clock strike the hours at
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  midnight. Then thinkest thou between one and twelve thereon? Thou thinkest thereon,
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  Oh, Zarathustra, I know it of soon leaving me, yea, answered
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  I hesitatingly. But thou knowest it also, And I said something into her
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  ear in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish tresses. Thou knowest that,
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  O, Zarathustra, that knoweth no one. And we gazed at each other,
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  and looked at the green meadow o'er which the cool evening was just passing,
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  and we wept together. Then, however, was life dearer unto me
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  than all my wisdom had ever been. Thus spake Zarathustra. Three, one,
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  O man, take heed? Two what saith deep midnight's voice? Indeed,
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  three I slept my sleep. Four from the deepest dream I woke and
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  plead five. The world is deep, six and deeper than the day could
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  read. Seven deep is its woe. Eight, Joy deeper still than grief
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  can be. Nine, woe saith hence go. Ten But all joys want
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  eternity eleven want deep, profound eternity. Twelve. End of Part three,
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  Chapter fifty nine