RETURNING HOME

O lonesomeness! My HOME, lonesomeness! Too long have I lived wildly in wild remoteness, to return to thee without tears!

Oh, solitude! My HOME, solitude! I have lived wildly in distant wilderness for too long to return to you without tears!

Now threaten me with the finger as mothers threaten; now smile upon me as mothers smile; now say just: “Who was it that like a whirlwind once rushed away from me?—

Now wag your finger at me as mothers do. Now smile at me as mothers do. Now just say: “Who was it who once rushed away from me like a whirlwind?

—Who when departing called out: ‘Too long have I sat with lonesomeness; there have I unlearned silence!’ THAT hast thou learned now—surely?

Who called out as he left: ‘I have spent too long alone. There I forgot how to be silent!’ Surely you have learned THAT now?

O Zarathustra, everything do I know; and that thou wert MORE FORSAKEN amongst the many, thou unique one, than thou ever wert with me!

Oh, Zarathustra, I know everything. I know that you, who are unique, were MORE FORSAKEN among the many than you ever were with me!

One thing is forsakenness, another matter is lonesomeness: THAT hast thou now learned! And that amongst men thou wilt ever be wild and strange:

Being abandoned is one thing. Being alone is another. You have learned THAT now! And you have learned that among people, you will always be wild and strange:

—Wild and strange even when they love thee: for above all they want to be TREATED INDULGENTLY!

Wild and strange even when they love you, because above all they want to be TREATED INDULGENTLY!

Here, however, art thou at home and house with thyself; here canst thou utter everything, and unbosom all motives; nothing is here ashamed of concealed, congealed feelings.

Here, however, you are at home with yourself. Here you can say everything and reveal all your motives. Nothing here is ashamed of hidden, frozen feelings.

Here do all things come caressingly to thy talk and flatter thee: for they want to ride upon thy back. On every simile dost thou here ride to every truth.

Here, all things come to you with gentle words and flatter you, because they want to ride on your back. Here, you ride every simile to every truth.

Uprightly and openly mayest thou here talk to all things: and verily, it soundeth as praise in their ears, for one to talk to all things—directly!

Here you may speak honestly and openly to all things. And truly, speaking directly to all things sounds like praise to their ears!

Another matter, however, is forsakenness. For, dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy bird screamed overhead, when thou stoodest in the forest, irresolute, ignorant where to go, beside a corpse:—

Abandonment, however, is another matter. Do you remember, Zarathustra? You stood beside a corpse in the forest, unsure where to go, while your bird screamed overhead:

—When thou spakest: ‘Let mine animals lead me! More dangerous have I found it among men than among animals:’—THAT was forsakenness!

When you said, ‘Let my animals lead me! I have found it more dangerous among people than among animals,’ THAT was abandonment!

And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thou sattest in thine isle, a well of wine giving and granting amongst empty buckets, bestowing and distributing amongst the thirsty:

Do you remember, Zarathustra? You sat on your island like a well of wine among empty buckets, giving freely to the thirsty:

—Until at last thou alone sattest thirsty amongst the drunken ones, and wailedst nightly: ‘Is taking not more blessed than giving? And stealing yet more blessed than taking?’—THAT was forsakenness!

Until at last you sat alone, thirsty among the drunken people, and cried out every night: ‘Isn't taking more blessed than giving? And isn't stealing even more blessed than taking?’ THAT was being forsaken!

And dost thou remember, O Zarathustra? When thy stillest hour came and drove thee forth from thyself, when with wicked whispering it said: ‘Speak and succumb!’—

And do you remember, Zarathustra? Your quietest hour came and drove you out of yourself. It whispered wickedly: ‘Speak and fall!’

—When it disgusted thee with all thy waiting and silence, and discouraged thy humble courage: THAT was forsakenness!”—

When it made you disgusted with all your waiting and silence, and discouraged your humble courage, THAT was abandonment!”

O lonesomeness! My home, lonesomeness! How blessedly and tenderly speaketh thy voice unto me!

Oh, solitude! My home, solitude! How blessed and tender your voice sounds to me!

We do not question each other, we do not complain to each other; we go together openly through open doors.

We don't question or complain to each other. We walk together openly through open doors.

For all is open with thee and clear; and even the hours run here on lighter feet. For in the dark, time weigheth heavier upon one than in the light.

For with you, everything is open and clear. Even the hours pass more lightly here. For time weighs more heavily on us in the dark than in the light.

Here fly open unto me all being’s words and word-cabinets: here all being wanteth to become words, here all becoming wanteth to learn of me how to talk.

Here all the words and word cabinets of being fly open to me. Here all being wants to become words. Here all becoming wants to learn from me how to speak.

Down there, however—all talking is in vain! There, forgetting and passing-by are the best wisdom: THAT have I learned now!

But down there, all talk is useless! There, forgetting and passing by are the wisest course. That is what I have learned now!

He who would understand everything in man must handle everything. But for that I have too clean hands.

Anyone who wants to understand everything about human beings must handle everything. But my hands are too clean for that.

I do not like even to inhale their breath; alas! that I have lived so long among their noise and bad breaths!

I don't even like breathing their breath. How terrible that I have lived so long among their noise and bad breath!

O blessed stillness around me! O pure odours around me! How from a deep breast this stillness fetcheth pure breath! How it hearkeneth, this blessed stillness!

Oh, the blessed stillness around me! Oh, the pure scents around me! How deeply this stillness draws its pure breath! How this blessed stillness listens!

But down there—there speaketh everything, there is everything misheard. If one announce one’s wisdom with bells, the shopmen in the market-place will out-jingle it with pennies!

But down there, everything speaks, and everything is misunderstood. If you announce your wisdom with bells, the merchants in the marketplace will drown it out by jingling their pennies!

Everything among them talketh; no one knoweth any longer how to understand. Everything falleth into the water; nothing falleth any longer into deep wells.

Everything among them talks. No one knows how to understand anymore. Everything falls into the water. Nothing falls into deep wells anymore.

Everything among them talketh, nothing succeedeth any longer and accomplisheth itself. Everything cackleth, but who will still sit quietly on the nest and hatch eggs?

Everything among them talks. Nothing succeeds or comes to completion anymore. Everything cackles, but who will still sit quietly on the nest and hatch eggs?

Everything among them talketh, everything is out-talked. And that which yesterday was still too hard for time itself and its tooth, hangeth to-day, outchamped and outchewed, from the mouths of the men of to-day.

Among them, everything talks, and everything is talked out. Yesterday, some things were still too hard for even the teeth of time. Today, those things hang from the mouths of modern people, chewed and chewed over.

Everything among them talketh, everything is betrayed. And what was once called the secret and secrecy of profound souls, belongeth to-day to the street-trumpeters and other butterflies.

Everything among them talks, and everything is betrayed. What was once called the secret and secrecy of profound souls now belongs to street trumpeters and other butterflies.

O human hubbub, thou wonderful thing! Thou noise in dark streets! Now art thou again behind me:—my greatest danger lieth behind me!

Oh, human clamor, you wonderful thing! You noise in dark streets! Now you are behind me again. My greatest danger is behind me!

In indulging and pitying lay ever my greatest danger; and all human hubbub wisheth to be indulged and tolerated.

My greatest danger has always been indulging and pitying others. And all the human clamor wants to be indulged and tolerated.

With suppressed truths, with fool’s hand and befooled heart, and rich in petty lies of pity:—thus have I ever lived among men.

I have always lived among people with truths held back, a fool’s hand, and a deceived heart. I have been rich in petty lies told out of pity.

Disguised did I sit amongst them, ready to misjudge MYSELF that I might endure THEM, and willingly saying to myself: “Thou fool, thou dost not know men!”

I sat among them in disguise, ready to misjudge MYSELF so I could endure THEM. I willingly said to myself: “You fool, you don't know people!”

One unlearneth men when one liveth amongst them: there is too much foreground in all men—what can far-seeing, far-longing eyes do THERE!

You unlearn people when you live among them. There is too much foreground in all people. What can eyes that see and long for distant things do THERE!

And, fool that I was, when they misjudged me, I indulged them on that account more than myself, being habitually hard on myself, and often even taking revenge on myself for the indulgence.

And, fool that I was, when they misjudged me, I was more forgiving of them than of myself. I was usually hard on myself, and I often even punished myself for forgiving them.

Stung all over by poisonous flies, and hollowed like the stone by many drops of wickedness: thus did I sit among them, and still said to myself: “Innocent is everything petty of its pettiness!”

I sat among them, stung all over by poisonous flies and worn hollow like a stone by countless drops of wickedness. Yet I still told myself: “Everything petty is innocent of its pettiness!”

Especially did I find those who call themselves “the good,” the most poisonous flies; they sting in all innocence, they lie in all innocence; how COULD they—be just towards me!

I found that those who call themselves “the good” were the most poisonous flies of all. They sting in all innocence. They lie in all innocence. How COULD they be fair to me!

He who liveth amongst the good—pity teacheth him to lie. Pity maketh stifling air for all free souls. For the stupidity of the good is unfathomable.

Anyone who lives among the good learns to lie out of pity. Pity makes the air stifling for all free souls. For the stupidity of the good is beyond measure.

To conceal myself and my riches—THAT did I learn down there: for every one did I still find poor in spirit. It was the lie of my pity, that I knew in every one,

I learned down there to hide myself and my riches. For I still found everyone poor in spirit. It was the lie of my pity that I knew in everyone,

—That I saw and scented in every one, what was ENOUGH of spirit for him, and what was TOO MUCH!

I saw and sensed in everyone how much spirit was ENOUGH for them, and how much was TOO MUCH!

Their stiff wise men: I call them wise, not stiff—thus did I learn to slur over words.

Their stiff wise men: I call them wise, not stiff. That is how I learned to gloss over words.

The grave-diggers dig for themselves diseases. Under old rubbish rest bad vapours. One should not stir up the marsh. One should live on mountains.

Grave diggers dig up diseases for themselves. Harmful fumes lie beneath old rubbish. You should not stir up the marsh. You should live in the mountains.

With blessed nostrils do I again breathe mountain-freedom. Freed at last is my nose from the smell of all human hubbub!

With blessed nostrils, I breathe the freedom of the mountains again. At last, my nose is free from the smell of all the human commotion!

With sharp breezes tickled, as with sparkling wine, SNEEZETH my soul— sneezeth, and shouteth self-congratulatingly: “Health to thee!”

Tickled by sharp breezes as if by sparkling wine, my soul SNEEZES. It sneezes and shouts to congratulate itself: “Health to you!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.