Chapter 59

The Second Dance Song

5 min

1

“Into thine eyes gazed I lately, O Life: gold saw I gleam in thy night-eyes,—my heart stood still with delight:

“Recently, I looked into your eyes, O Life. I saw gold gleaming in your dark eyes, and my heart stopped with delight:

—A golden bark saw I gleam on darkened waters, a sinking, drinking, reblinking, golden swing-bark!

I saw a golden boat gleaming on the dark waters, sinking, drinking, and gleaming again as it rocked!

At my dance-frantic foot, dost thou cast a glance, a laughing, questioning, melting, thrown glance:

You glance at my foot, frantic with dancing. Your glance is laughing, questioning, melting, and fleeting:

Twice only movedst thou thy rattle with thy little hands—then did my feet swing with dance-fury.—

You shook your rattle only twice with your little hands. Then my feet began to dance wildly.

My heels reared aloft, my toes they hearkened,—thee they would know: hath not the dancer his ear—in his toe!

My heels rose high, and my toes listened. They wanted to know you. Doesn't a dancer have his ear in his toe!

Unto thee did I spring: then fledst thou back from my bound; and towards me waved thy fleeing, flying tresses round!

I leaped toward you, but you drew back from my leap, and your flying hair waved toward me as you fled!

Away from thee did I spring, and from thy snaky tresses: then stoodst thou there half-turned, and in thine eye caresses.

I sprang away from you and your snaky hair. Then you stood there, half-turned, with a tender look in your eye.

With crooked glances—dost thou teach me crooked courses; on crooked courses learn my feet—crafty fancies!

With sly glances, you teach me crooked paths. On those paths, my feet learn cunning ideas!

I fear thee near, I love thee far; thy flight allureth me, thy seeking secureth me:—I suffer, but for thee, what would I not gladly bear!

I fear you when you are near, and I love you when you are far away. Your flight draws me in, and your seeking gives me security. I suffer, but what would I not gladly endure for you!

For thee, whose coldness inflameth, whose hatred misleadeth, whose flight enchaineth, whose mockery—pleadeth:

For you, whose coldness inflames, whose hatred misleads, whose flight binds, whose mockery pleads:

—Who would not hate thee, thou great bindress, inwindress, temptress, seekress, findress! Who would not love thee, thou innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner!

Who would not hate you, great binder, entwiner, temptress, seeker, finder! Who would not love you, innocent, impatient sinner, swift as the wind, with the eyes of a child!

Whither pullest thou me now, thou paragon and tomboy? And now foolest thou me fleeing; thou sweet romp dost annoy!

Where are you pulling me now, you perfect tomboy? Now you tease me by running away. You sweet little rascal, you annoy me!

I dance after thee, I follow even faint traces lonely. Where art thou? Give me thy hand! Or thy finger only!

I dance after you. Alone, I follow even the faintest traces. Where are you? Give me your hand! Or just your finger!

Here are caves and thickets: we shall go astray!—Halt! Stand still! Seest thou not owls and bats in fluttering fray?

There are caves and thickets here. We’ll lose our way! Stop! Stand still! Don’t you see the owls and bats fluttering about in a frenzy?

Thou bat! Thou owl! Thou wouldst play me foul? Where are we? From the dogs hast thou learned thus to bark and howl.

You bat! You owl! Are you trying to play a dirty trick on me? Where are we? You learned to bark and howl like that from dogs.

Thou gnashest on me sweetly with little white teeth; thine evil eyes shoot out upon me, thy curly little mane from underneath!

You sweetly gnash your little white teeth at me. Your wicked eyes flash at me from beneath your little curly mane!

This is a dance over stock and stone: I am the hunter,—wilt thou be my hound, or my chamois anon?

This is a dance over logs and rocks. I am the hunter. Will you be my hound or my chamois next?

Now beside me! And quickly, wickedly springing! Now up! And over!—Alas! I have fallen myself overswinging!

Now beside me! Leap quickly and wickedly! Now up! And over! Oh no! I swung too far and fell myself!

Oh, see me lying, thou arrogant one, and imploring grace! Gladly would I walk with thee—in some lovelier place!

Oh, look at me lying here, you arrogant one, begging for mercy! I would gladly walk with you somewhere lovelier!

—In the paths of love, through bushes variegated, quiet, trim! Or there along the lake, where gold-fishes dance and swim!

Along the paths of love, through colorful bushes, quiet and neatly trimmed! Or there by the lake, where goldfish dance and swim!

Thou art now aweary? There above are sheep and sun-set stripes: is it not sweet to sleep—the shepherd pipes?

Are you tired now? Up there are sheep and streaks of sunset. Isn't it sweet to sleep while the shepherd plays his pipe?

Thou art so very weary? I carry thee thither; let just thine arm sink! And art thou thirsty—I should have something; but thy mouth would not like it to drink!—

Are you so very tired? I’ll carry you there. Just let your arm drop! And if you’re thirsty, I have something, but you wouldn’t like the taste of it!

—Oh, that cursed, nimble, supple serpent and lurking-witch! Where art thou gone? But in my face do I feel through thy hand, two spots and red blotches itch!

Oh, that cursed, nimble, flexible serpent and lurking witch! Where have you gone? But your hand has left two itchy red blotches on my face!

I am verily weary of it, ever thy sheepish shepherd to be. Thou witch, if I have hitherto sung unto thee, now shalt THOU—cry unto me!

I am truly tired of always being your sheepish shepherd. You witch, if I have sung to you until now, now YOU must cry out to me!

To the rhythm of my whip shalt thou dance and cry! I forget not my whip?—Not I!”—

You will dance and cry to the rhythm of my whip! Do I forget my whip? Not I!”

2

Then did Life answer me thus, and kept thereby her fine ears closed:

Then Life answered me, keeping her delicate ears closed as she spoke:

“O Zarathustra! Crack not so terribly with thy whip! Thou knowest surely that noise killeth thought,—and just now there came to me such delicate thoughts.

“Oh, Zarathustra! Don’t crack your whip so terribly! Surely you know that noise kills thought, and I was just having such delicate thoughts.

We are both of us genuine ne’er-do-wells and ne’er-do-ills. Beyond good and evil found we our island and our green meadow—we two alone! Therefore must we be friendly to each other!

We are both genuine do-nothings who do neither good nor evil. The two of us alone found our island and our green meadow beyond good and evil! So we must be friendly to each other!

And even should we not love each other from the bottom of our hearts,—must we then have a grudge against each other if we do not love each other perfectly?

And even if we do not love each other with all our hearts, must we hold a grudge against each other for not loving perfectly?

And that I am friendly to thee, and often too friendly, that knowest thou: and the reason is that I am envious of thy Wisdom. Ah, this mad old fool, Wisdom!

And you know that I am friendly to you, often too friendly. That is because I envy your Wisdom. Ah, Wisdom, that mad old fool!

If thy Wisdom should one day run away from thee, ah! then would also my love run away from thee quickly.”—

If your Wisdom should one day run away from you, ah! Then my love would quickly run away from you too.”

Thereupon did Life look thoughtfully behind and around, and said softly: “O Zarathustra, thou art not faithful enough to me!

Then Life looked thoughtfully behind her and around her, and said softly: “Oh, Zarathustra, you are not faithful enough to me!

Thou lovest me not nearly so much as thou sayest; I know thou thinkest of soon leaving me.

You don't love me nearly as much as you say you do. I know you're thinking of leaving me soon.

There is an old heavy, heavy, booming-clock: it boometh by night up to thy cave:—

There is an old, heavy, heavy clock. At night, its booming reaches your cave:

—When thou hearest this clock strike the hours at midnight, then thinkest thou between one and twelve thereon—

When you hear this clock strike the hours at midnight, you think of the numbers from one to twelve.

—Thou thinkest thereon, O Zarathustra, I know it—of soon leaving me!”—

You are thinking of leaving me soon, Zarathustra. I know it!”

“Yea,” answered I, hesitatingly, “but thou knowest it also”—And I said something into her ear, in amongst her confused, yellow, foolish tresses.

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly, “but you know it too.” And I said something in her ear, among her tangled, foolish yellow locks.

“Thou KNOWEST that, O Zarathustra? That knoweth no one—”

“You KNOW that, Zarathustra? No one knows that...”

And we gazed at each other, and looked at the green meadow o’er which the cool evening was just passing, and we wept together.—Then, however, was Life dearer unto me than all my Wisdom had ever been.—

We looked at each other, then at the green meadow as the cool evening passed over it. And we wept together. But then Life was dearer to me than all my Wisdom had ever been.

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.

3

One!

O man! Take heed!

Humanity, pay attention!

Two!

What saith deep midnight’s voice indeed?

What does deep midnight’s voice really say?

Three!

“I slept my sleep—

“I have slept.

Four!

“From deepest dream I’ve woke and plead:—

“From the deepest dream, I have awakened and plead:

Five!

“The world is deep,

Six!

“And deeper than the day could read.

“And deeper than the day could understand.

Seven!

“Deep is its woe—

“Its sorrow is deep.

Eight!

“Joy—deeper still than grief can be:

“Joy is deeper still than grief can be:

Nine!

“Woe saith: Hence! Go!

“Sorrow says: Away! Go!

Ten!

“But joys all want eternity—

“But all joys want eternity.

Eleven!

“Want deep profound eternity!”

“Want deep, profound eternity!”

Twelve!