THE THREE EVIL THINGS

In my dream, in my last morning-dream, I stood to-day on a promontory— beyond the world; I held a pair of scales, and WEIGHED the world.

In my dream, my last dream this morning, I stood on a cliff beyond the world. I held a pair of scales and WEIGHED the world.

Alas, that the rosy dawn came too early to me: she glowed me awake, the jealous one! Jealous is she always of the glows of my morning-dream.

Oh, the rosy dawn came too early for me. The jealous dawn woke me with her glow! She is always jealous of the glow of my morning dream.

Measurable by him who hath time, weighable by a good weigher, attainable by strong pinions, divinable by divine nut-crackers: thus did my dream find the world:—

My dream found the world measurable by anyone with time, weighable by a good weigher, reachable by strong wings, and decipherable by divine nutcrackers:

My dream, a bold sailor, half-ship, half-hurricane, silent as the butterfly, impatient as the falcon: how had it the patience and leisure to-day for world-weighing!

My dream was a bold sailor, half ship and half hurricane, silent as a butterfly, impatient as a falcon. How did it find the patience and time today to weigh the world!

Did my wisdom perhaps speak secretly to it, my laughing, wide-awake day-wisdom, which mocketh at all “infinite worlds”? For it saith: “Where force is, there becometh NUMBER the master: it hath more force.”

Did my wisdom perhaps speak secretly to it? I mean my laughing, wide-awake day-wisdom, which mocks all “infinite worlds.” For it says: “Where there is force, NUMBER becomes the master: it has more force.”

How confidently did my dream contemplate this finite world, not new-fangledly, not old-fangledly, not timidly, not entreatingly:—

How confidently my dream regarded this finite world, neither following new fashions nor clinging to old ones, neither timidly nor pleadingly:

—As if a big round apple presented itself to my hand, a ripe golden apple, with a coolly-soft, velvety skin:—thus did the world present itself unto me:—

The world presented itself to me as if a big, round apple had appeared in my hand, ripe and golden, with cool, soft, velvety skin.

—As if a tree nodded unto me, a broad-branched, strong-willed tree, curved as a recline and a foot-stool for weary travellers: thus did the world stand on my promontory:—

The world stood on my promontory as if a tree were nodding to me: a broad-branched, strong-willed tree, curved like a resting place and footstool for weary travelers.

—As if delicate hands carried a casket towards me—a casket open for the delectation of modest adoring eyes: thus did the world present itself before me to-day:—

Today the world appeared before me as if delicate hands were carrying a casket toward me. The casket was open for modest, adoring eyes to enjoy.

—Not riddle enough to scare human love from it, not solution enough to put to sleep human wisdom:—a humanly good thing was the world to me to-day, of which such bad things are said!

The world was not enough of a riddle to scare away human love, nor enough of a solution to lull human wisdom to sleep. Today, the world, about which people say such bad things, seemed good to me in a human way!

How I thank my morning-dream that I thus at to-day’s dawn, weighed the world! As a humanly good thing did it come unto me, this dream and heart-comforter!

How I thank my morning dream for letting me weigh the world at dawn today! The dream came to me as something good in a human way, comforting my heart.

And that I may do the like by day, and imitate and copy its best, now will I put the three worst things on the scales, and weigh them humanly well.—

So that I can do the same by day, and imitate and copy its best, I will now put the three worst things on the scales. I will weigh them as carefully as a human can.

He who taught to bless taught also to curse: what are the three best cursed things in the world? These will I put on the scales.

Whoever taught us to bless also taught us to curse. What are the three things in the world most worthy of curses? I will put them on the scales.

VOLUPTUOUSNESS, PASSION FOR POWER, and SELFISHNESS: these three things have hitherto been best cursed, and have been in worst and falsest repute—these three things will I weigh humanly well.

PLEASURE, THE DESIRE FOR POWER, and SELFISHNESS: these three have been cursed more than anything else. They have had the worst and most undeserved reputations. I will weigh them carefully from a human point of view.

Well! Here is my promontory, and there is the sea—IT rolleth hither unto me, shaggily and fawningly, the old, faithful, hundred-headed dog-monster that I love!—

Well! Here is my headland, and there is the sea. It rolls toward me, shaggy and affectionate, the old, faithful, hundred-headed dog-monster I love!

Well! Here will I hold the scales over the weltering sea: and also a witness do I choose to look on—thee, the anchorite-tree, thee, the strong-odoured, broad-arched tree that I love!—

Well! Here I will hold the scales over the churning sea. And I choose you to watch as my witness, hermit tree, the strongly scented, broad-arched tree I love!

On what bridge goeth the now to the hereafter? By what constraint doth the high stoop to the low? And what enjoineth even the highest still—to grow upwards?—

What bridge leads from the present to the future? What forces the high to stoop to the low? And what commands even the highest to keep growing upward?

Now stand the scales poised and at rest: three heavy questions have I thrown in; three heavy answers carrieth the other scale.

Now the scales are balanced and still. I have thrown three weighty questions onto one side. The other side holds three weighty answers.

Voluptuousness: unto all hair-shirted despisers of the body, a sting and stake; and, cursed as “the world,” by all backworldsmen: for it mocketh and befooleth all erring, misinferring teachers.

Voluptuousness: a sting and a stake to all who wear hair shirts and despise the body. All backworldsmen curse it as “the world,” because it mocks and makes fools of all teachers who go astray and reason falsely.

Voluptuousness: to the rabble, the slow fire at which it is burnt; to all wormy wood, to all stinking rags, the prepared heat and stew furnace.

Lust: for the rabble, it is the slow fire that burns them. For all worm-eaten wood and all stinking rags, it is a heated furnace, ready to cook them.

Voluptuousness: to free hearts, a thing innocent and free, the garden-happiness of the earth, all the future’s thanks-overflow to the present.

Sensual pleasure: for free hearts, it is innocent and free, the joy of the earth's garden, all the future's overflowing thanks to the present.

Voluptuousness: only to the withered a sweet poison; to the lion-willed, however, the great cordial, and the reverently saved wine of wines.

Sensual pleasure is a sweet poison only to those who have withered. But to those with the will of a lion, it is a great tonic, the finest wine, saved with reverence.

Voluptuousness: the great symbolic happiness of a higher happiness and highest hope. For to many is marriage promised, and more than marriage,—

Sensual pleasure: the great symbolic joy of a higher happiness and the highest hope. For many are promised marriage, and more than marriage.

—To many that are more unknown to each other than man and woman:—and who hath fully understood HOW UNKNOWN to each other are man and woman!

To many who know each other even less than a man and a woman do. And who has fully understood HOW LITTLE a man and a woman know each other!

Voluptuousness:—but I will have hedges around my thoughts, and even around my words, lest swine and libertine should break into my gardens!—

Sensual pleasure: But I will put hedges around my thoughts, and even around my words, to keep pigs and pleasure seekers from breaking into my gardens!

Passion for power: the glowing scourge of the hardest of the heart-hard; the cruel torture reserved for the cruellest themselves; the gloomy flame of living pyres.

The passion for power: a glowing whip for the most hardhearted. Cruel torture reserved for the cruelest people themselves. The dark flame of living pyres.

Passion for power: the wicked gadfly which is mounted on the vainest peoples; the scorner of all uncertain virtue; which rideth on every horse and on every pride.

Passion for power: the wicked gadfly that rides the vainest peoples and scorns all uncertain virtue. It rides every horse and every pride.

Passion for power: the earthquake which breaketh and upbreaketh all that is rotten and hollow; the rolling, rumbling, punitive demolisher of whited sepulchres; the flashing interrogative-sign beside premature answers.

Passion for power: the earthquake that breaks apart all that is rotten and hollow. It rolls and rumbles, punishing and demolishing whitewashed tombs. It is the flashing question mark beside premature answers.

Passion for power: before whose glance man creepeth and croucheth and drudgeth, and becometh lower than the serpent and the swine:—until at last great contempt crieth out of him—,

Passion for power: under its gaze, man crawls, crouches, and toils, becoming lower than the serpent and the pig, until finally great contempt cries out from within him.

Passion for power: the terrible teacher of great contempt, which preacheth to their face to cities and empires: “Away with thee!”—until a voice crieth out of themselves: “Away with ME!”

Passion for power: the terrible teacher of great contempt. It tells cities and empires to their faces, “Away with you!” It does this until a voice cries out from within them: “Away with ME!”

Passion for power: which, however, mounteth alluringly even to the pure and lonesome, and up to self-satisfied elevations, glowing like a love that painteth purple felicities alluringly on earthly heavens.

Passion for power: Yet it rises temptingly even to the pure and solitary, reaching heights of self-satisfaction. It glows like a love that paints alluring purple visions of bliss across earthly heavens.

Passion for power: but who would call it PASSION, when the height longeth to stoop for power! Verily, nothing sick or diseased is there in such longing and descending!

Passion for power: but who would call it PASSION when the heights long to stoop for power! Truly, there is nothing sick or diseased in such longing and descending!

That the lonesome height may not for ever remain lonesome and self-sufficing; that the mountains may come to the valleys and the winds of the heights to the plains:—

So that the lonely heights may not remain lonely and self-sufficient forever. So that the mountains may come to the valleys, and the winds of the heights to the plains:

Oh, who could find the right prenomen and honouring name for such longing! “Bestowing virtue”—thus did Zarathustra once name the unnamable.

Oh, who could find the right first name and title of honor for such longing! “Bestowing virtue” is what Zarathustra once called the unnamable.

And then it happened also,—and verily, it happened for the first time!—that his word blessed SELFISHNESS, the wholesome, healthy selfishness, that springeth from the powerful soul:—

And then something else happened. Truly, it happened for the first time! His words blessed SELFISHNESS, the wholesome, healthy selfishness that springs from a powerful soul:

—From the powerful soul, to which the high body appertaineth, the handsome, triumphing, refreshing body, around which everything becometh a mirror:

From the powerful soul, which belongs to the noble body, the handsome, triumphant, refreshing body around which everything becomes a mirror:

—The pliant, persuasive body, the dancer, whose symbol and epitome is the self-enjoying soul. Of such bodies and souls the self-enjoyment calleth itself “virtue.”

The flexible, persuasive body, the dancer, is symbolized and perfectly expressed by the soul that delights in itself. The self-enjoyment of such bodies and souls calls itself “virtue.”

With its words of good and bad doth such self-enjoyment shelter itself as with sacred groves; with the names of its happiness doth it banish from itself everything contemptible.

Such self-enjoyment shelters itself with words of good and bad, as if they were sacred groves. With the names it gives its happiness, it banishes everything contemptible from itself.

Away from itself doth it banish everything cowardly; it saith: “Bad—THAT IS cowardly!” Contemptible seem to it the ever-solicitous, the sighing, the complaining, and whoever pick up the most trifling advantage.

It drives everything cowardly away from itself. It says: “Bad means cowardly!” It despises those who are always anxious, who sigh and complain, and who seize even the smallest advantage.

It despiseth also all bitter-sweet wisdom: for verily, there is also wisdom that bloometh in the dark, a night-shade wisdom, which ever sigheth: “All is vain!”

It also despises all bittersweet wisdom. For truly, there is wisdom that blooms in the dark, a nightshade wisdom that always sighs: “All is in vain!”

Shy distrust is regarded by it as base, and every one who wanteth oaths instead of looks and hands: also all over-distrustful wisdom,—for such is the mode of cowardly souls.

It considers timid distrust contemptible, as well as anyone who demands oaths instead of trusting a look or a handshake. It also despises all overly distrustful wisdom, because that is the way of cowardly souls.

Baser still it regardeth the obsequious, doggish one, who immediately lieth on his back, the submissive one; and there is also wisdom that is submissive, and doggish, and pious, and obsequious.

It considers the fawning, doglike person even more contemptible, the submissive person who immediately rolls over onto his back. And there is wisdom that is submissive, doglike, pious, and fawning too.

Hateful to it altogether, and a loathing, is he who will never defend himself, he who swalloweth down poisonous spittle and bad looks, the all-too-patient one, the all-endurer, the all-satisfied one: for that is the mode of slaves.

It utterly hates and loathes anyone who never defends himself and swallows poisonous spit and hostile looks. It hates the person who is too patient, who endures everything and is satisfied with everything. For that is the way of slaves.

Whether they be servile before Gods and divine spurnings, or before men and stupid human opinions: at ALL kinds of slaves doth it spit, this blessed selfishness!

Whether slaves bow before Gods and their divine rejection, or before people and their stupid opinions, this blessed selfishness spits at ALL kinds of slaves!

Bad: thus doth it call all that is spirit-broken, and sordidly-servile—constrained, blinking eyes, depressed hearts, and the false submissive style, which kisseth with broad cowardly lips.

Bad: that is what it calls everything broken in spirit and meanly servile. It calls forced, blinking eyes and downcast hearts bad. It also calls the falsely submissive manner bad, the manner that kisses with broad, cowardly lips.

And spurious wisdom: so doth it call all the wit that slaves, and hoary-headed and weary ones affect; and especially all the cunning, spurious-witted, curious-witted foolishness of priests!

And it calls all the wit favored by slaves, the gray-haired, and the weary false wisdom. It especially calls all the cunning, falsely clever, and curious-minded foolishness of priests false wisdom!

The spurious wise, however, all the priests, the world-weary, and those whose souls are of feminine and servile nature—oh, how hath their game all along abused selfishness!

But the false wise ones, all the priests, the world-weary, and those with feminine and servile souls. Oh, how their game has always abused selfishness!

And precisely THAT was to be virtue and was to be called virtue—to abuse selfishness! And “selfless”—so did they wish themselves with good reason, all those world-weary cowards and cross-spiders!

And THAT was exactly what virtue was supposed to be, and what was to be called virtue: condemning selfishness! And with good reason, all those world-weary cowards and cross-spiders wanted to be “selfless”!

But to all those cometh now the day, the change, the sword of judgment, THE GREAT NOONTIDE: then shall many things be revealed!

But for all of them, the day is now coming, the change, the sword of judgment, THE GREAT NOONTIDE. Then many things will be revealed!

And he who proclaimeth the EGO wholesome and holy, and selfishness blessed, verily, he, the prognosticator, speaketh also what he knoweth: “BEHOLD, IT COMETH, IT IS NIGH, THE GREAT NOONTIDE!”

And the one who declares the EGO healthy and holy, and selfishness blessed, truly speaks of what he knows. He foretells: “LOOK, IT IS COMING, IT IS NEAR, THE GREAT NOONTIDE!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.

That is what Zarathustra said.