The Friend

“One, is always too many about me”—thinketh the anchorite. “Always once one—that maketh two in the long run!”

“There is always one too many around me,” thinks the hermit. “Always one by one, and in the long run that makes two!”

I and me are always too earnestly in conversation: how could it be endured, if there were not a friend?

I am always talking to myself so seriously. How could I bear it without a friend?

The friend of the anchorite is always the third one: the third one is the cork which preventeth the conversation of the two sinking into the depth.

The hermit’s friend is always the third one. The third one is the cork that keeps the conversation between the two from sinking into the depths.

Ah! there are too many depths for all anchorites. Therefore, do they long so much for a friend, and for his elevation.

Ah! There are too many depths for all hermits. That is why they long so much for a friend and for his elevation.

Our faith in others betrayeth wherein we would fain have faith in ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer.

Our faith in others reveals where we wish we had faith in ourselves. Our longing for a friend betrays us.

And often with our love we want merely to overleap envy. And often we attack and make ourselves enemies, to conceal that we are vulnerable.

And often we use love merely to overcome envy. And often we attack others and make enemies to hide our vulnerability.

“Be at least mine enemy!”—thus speaketh the true reverence, which doth not venture to solicit friendship.

“At least be my enemy!” That is what true reverence says when it does not dare ask for friendship.

If one would have a friend, then must one also be willing to wage war for him: and in order to wage war, one must be CAPABLE of being an enemy.

If you want a friend, you must also be willing to wage war for him. And to wage war, you must be CAPABLE of being an enemy.

One ought still to honour the enemy in one’s friend. Canst thou go nigh unto thy friend, and not go over to him?

You should still honor the enemy in your friend. Can you be close to your friend without taking their side?

In one’s friend one shall have one’s best enemy. Thou shalt be closest unto him with thy heart when thou withstandest him.

Your friend should be your best enemy. You should be closest to him in your heart when you oppose him.

Thou wouldst wear no raiment before thy friend? It is in honour of thy friend that thou showest thyself to him as thou art? But he wisheth thee to the devil on that account!

You would wear no clothes in front of your friend? Do you show yourself as you are to honor him? But he wishes you to the devil for it!

He who maketh no secret of himself shocketh: so much reason have ye to fear nakedness! Aye, if ye were Gods, ye could then be ashamed of clothing!

A person who hides nothing about themselves shocks others. You have that much reason to fear nakedness! Yes, if you were gods, you could be ashamed of wearing clothes!

Thou canst not adorn thyself fine enough for thy friend; for thou shalt be unto him an arrow and a longing for the Superman.

You can never dress yourself finely enough for your friend. For you must be an arrow and a longing for the Superman to him.

Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep—to know how he looketh? What is usually the countenance of thy friend? It is thine own countenance, in a coarse and imperfect mirror.

Have you ever watched your friend sleep, to see what they look like? What does your friend’s face usually look like? It is your own face reflected in a rough and imperfect mirror.

Sawest thou ever thy friend asleep? Wert thou not dismayed at thy friend looking so? O my friend, man is something that hath to be surpassed.

Have you ever seen your friend asleep? Were you not dismayed by how your friend looked? Oh, my friend, humanity is something that must be surpassed.

In divining and keeping silence shall the friend be a master: not everything must thou wish to see. Thy dream shall disclose unto thee what thy friend doeth when awake.

A friend should be a master of sensing what is hidden and keeping silent. You should not want to see everything. Your dreams will reveal what your friend does while awake.

Let thy pity be a divining: to know first if thy friend wanteth pity. Perhaps he loveth in thee the unmoved eye, and the look of eternity.

Let your pity be guided by intuition. First, find out whether your friend wants pity. Perhaps your friend loves your calm gaze and your look of eternity.

Let thy pity for thy friend be hid under a hard shell; thou shalt bite out a tooth upon it. Thus will it have delicacy and sweetness.

Let your pity for your friend be hidden beneath a hard shell. You should break a tooth on that shell. That way, your pity will have delicacy and sweetness.

Art thou pure air and solitude and bread and medicine to thy friend? Many a one cannot loosen his own fetters, but is nevertheless his friend’s emancipator.

Are you fresh air, solitude, bread, and medicine to your friend? Many people cannot free themselves from their own chains, but can still free their friends.

Art thou a slave? Then thou canst not be a friend. Art thou a tyrant? Then thou canst not have friends.

Are you a slave? Then you cannot be a friend. Are you a tyrant? Then you cannot have friends.

Far too long hath there been a slave and a tyrant concealed in woman. On that account woman is not yet capable of friendship: she knoweth only love.

For far too long, a slave and a tyrant have been hidden within women. That is why women are not yet capable of friendship. They know only love.

In woman’s love there is injustice and blindness to all she doth not love. And even in woman’s conscious love, there is still always surprise and lightning and night, along with the light.

A woman’s love is unjust and blind to everything she does not love. Even when a woman loves consciously, there is always surprise, lightning, and night alongside the light.

As yet woman is not capable of friendship: women are still cats, and birds. Or at the best, cows.

Women are not yet capable of friendship. Women are still cats and birds. Or, at best, cows.

As yet woman is not capable of friendship. But tell me, ye men, who of you are capable of friendship?

Women are not yet capable of friendship. But tell me, men, which of you are capable of friendship?

Oh! your poverty, ye men, and your sordidness of soul! As much as ye give to your friend, will I give even to my foe, and will not have become poorer thereby.

Oh, how poor you are, how mean-spirited! I would give even my enemy as much as you give your friend, and I would be no poorer for it.

There is comradeship: may there be friendship!

There is companionship. May there be friendship!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.