Involuntary Bliss

With such enigmas and bitterness in his heart did Zarathustra sail o’er the sea. When, however, he was four day-journeys from the Happy Isles and from his friends, then had he surmounted all his pain—: triumphantly and with firm foot did he again accept his fate. And then talked Zarathustra in this wise to his exulting conscience:

With such riddles and bitterness in his heart, Zarathustra sailed across the sea. But after four days of travel from the Happy Isles and his friends, he had overcome all his pain. Triumphant and sure of himself, he once again accepted his fate. Then Zarathustra spoke to his rejoicing conscience:

Alone am I again, and like to be so, alone with the pure heaven, and the open sea; and again is the afternoon around me.

I am alone again, and glad to be alone with the clear sky and the open sea. And once again, afternoon surrounds me.

On an afternoon did I find my friends for the first time; on an afternoon, also, did I find them a second time:—at the hour when all light becometh stiller.

I first found my friends one afternoon. I found them a second time one afternoon, too, at the hour when all light grows quieter.

For whatever happiness is still on its way ‘twixt heaven and earth, now seeketh for lodging a luminous soul: WITH HAPPINESS hath all light now become stiller.

For whatever happiness is still on its way between heaven and earth now seeks a radiant soul to shelter it. WITH HAPPINESS, all light has now grown stiller.

O afternoon of my life! Once did my happiness also descend to the valley that it might seek a lodging: then did it find those open hospitable souls.

Oh, afternoon of my life! My happiness once went down to the valley to find a place to stay. There it found those open, welcoming souls.

O afternoon of my life! What did I not surrender that I might have one thing: this living plantation of my thoughts, and this dawn of my highest hope!

Oh, afternoon of my life! What did I not give up for this one thing: the living garden of my thoughts and the dawn of my highest hope!

Companions did the creating one once seek, and children of HIS hope: and lo, it turned out that he could not find them, except he himself should first create them.

The creator once sought companions and children of his hope. But he found that he could not find them unless he first created them himself.

Thus am I in the midst of my work, to my children going, and from them returning: for the sake of his children must Zarathustra perfect himself.

So I am in the middle of my work, going to my children and returning from them. For the sake of his children, Zarathustra must perfect himself.

For in one’s heart one loveth only one’s child and one’s work; and where there is great love to oneself, then is it the sign of pregnancy: so have I found it.

For in our hearts, we love only our children and our work. And great love for oneself is a sign of pregnancy. That is what I have found.

Still are my children verdant in their first spring, standing nigh one another, and shaken in common by the winds, the trees of my garden and of my best soil.

My children are still green in their first spring. They stand close together and are shaken by the same winds, the trees of my garden and my best soil.

And verily, where such trees stand beside one another, there ARE Happy Isles!

And truly, wherever such trees stand side by side, there ARE Happy Isles!

But one day will I take them up, and put each by itself alone: that it may learn lonesomeness and defiance and prudence.

But one day I will take them up and put each one alone. Then each may learn loneliness, defiance, and caution.

Gnarled and crooked and with flexible hardness shall it then stand by the sea, a living lighthouse of unconquerable life.

Then it will stand by the sea, gnarled and crooked, strong yet flexible, a living lighthouse of unconquerable life.

Yonder where the storms rush down into the sea, and the snout of the mountain drinketh water, shall each on a time have his day and night watches, for HIS testing and recognition.

There, where storms rush down into the sea and the mountain's snout drinks the water, each will in turn keep watch by day and night, to be tested and recognized.

Recognised and tested shall each be, to see if he be of my type and lineage:—if he be master of a long will, silent even when he speaketh, and giving in such wise that he TAKETH in giving:—

Each person shall be known and tested to see if he is of my type and lineage. Does he have a will that endures, remain silent even when he speaks, and give in a way that TAKES in giving?

—So that he may one day become my companion, a fellow-creator and fellow-enjoyer with Zarathustra:—such a one as writeth my will on my tables, for the fuller perfection of all things.

So that he may one day become my companion, creating and enjoying things alongside Zarathustra. He would write my will on my tablets, so that all things might become more perfect.

And for his sake and for those like him, must I perfect MYSELF: therefore do I now avoid my happiness, and present myself to every misfortune—for MY final testing and recognition.

For his sake and for the sake of those like him, I must perfect MYSELF. So I now avoid my happiness and expose myself to every misfortune, for MY final testing and recognition.

And verily, it were time that I went away; and the wanderer’s shadow and the longest tedium and the stillest hour—have all said unto me: “It is the highest time!”

And truly, it was time for me to leave. The wanderer’s shadow, the longest boredom, and the stillest hour had all said to me: “It is high time!”

The word blew to me through the keyhole and said “Come!” The door sprang subtlely open unto me, and said “Go!”

The word blew through the keyhole to me and said, “Come!” The door sprang open subtly for me and said, “Go!”

But I lay enchained to my love for my children: desire spread this snare for me—the desire for love—that I should become the prey of my children, and lose myself in them.

But I was chained by my love for my children. My desire for love set this trap for me, so that I would become their prey and lose myself in them.

Desiring—that is now for me to have lost myself. I POSSESS YOU, MY CHILDREN! In this possessing shall everything be assurance and nothing desire.

To desire now means losing myself. I HAVE YOU, MY CHILDREN! In having you, everything will be certain, and nothing will be desire.

But brooding lay the sun of my love upon me, in his own juice stewed Zarathustra,—then did shadows and doubts fly past me.

But the sun of my love hung brooding over me. Zarathustra stewed in his own juices. Then shadows and doubts flew past me.

For frost and winter I now longed: “Oh, that frost and winter would again make me crack and crunch!” sighed I:—then arose icy mist out of me.

I now longed for frost and winter. “Oh, if only frost and winter would make me crack and crunch again!” I sighed. Then an icy mist rose from me.

My past burst its tomb, many pains buried alive woke up—: fully slept had they merely, concealed in corpse-clothes.

My past burst out of its tomb. Many pains buried alive woke up. They had only been sleeping soundly, hidden in burial clothes.

So called everything unto me in signs: “It is time!” But I—heard not, until at last mine abyss moved, and my thought bit me.

Everything called to me through signs: “It is time!” But I did not hear until at last my abyss stirred, and my thought bit me.

Ah, abysmal thought, which art MY thought! When shall I find strength to hear thee burrowing, and no longer tremble?

Ah, bottomless thought, my OWN thought! When will I find the strength to hear you burrowing without trembling?

To my very throat throbbeth my heart when I hear thee burrowing! Thy muteness even is like to strangle me, thou abysmal mute one!

My heart pounds in my throat when I hear you burrowing! Even your silence seems to strangle me, you silent creature of the depths!

As yet have I never ventured to call thee UP; it hath been enough that I—have carried thee about with me! As yet have I not been strong enough for my final lion-wantonness and playfulness.

Until now, I have never dared to call you UP. It has been enough just to carry you around with me! Until now, I have not been strong enough for my final burst of lionlike wildness and playfulness.

Sufficiently formidable unto me hath thy weight ever been: but one day shall I yet find the strength and the lion’s voice which will call thee up!

Your weight has always been daunting to me. But one day I will find the strength and the lion’s voice to call you up!

When I shall have surmounted myself therein, then will I surmount myself also in that which is greater; and a VICTORY shall be the seal of my perfection!—

When I have overcome myself in this, I will also overcome myself in something greater. And a VICTORY will be the seal of my perfection!

Meanwhile do I sail along on uncertain seas; chance flattereth me, smooth-tongued chance; forward and backward do I gaze—, still see I no end.

Meanwhile, I sail on uncertain seas. Chance flatters me, smooth-talking chance. I look forward and back, but still see no end.

As yet hath the hour of my final struggle not come to me—or doth it come to me perhaps just now? Verily, with insidious beauty do sea and life gaze upon me round about:

The hour of my final struggle has not yet come. Or perhaps it is coming just now? Truly, the sea and life gaze at me from all around with deceptive beauty:

O afternoon of my life! O happiness before eventide! O haven upon high seas! O peace in uncertainty! How I distrust all of you!

Oh, afternoon of my life! Oh, happiness before evening! Oh, safe harbor on the open sea! Oh, peace amid uncertainty! How I distrust you all!

Verily, distrustful am I of your insidious beauty! Like the lover am I, who distrusteth too sleek smiling.

Truly, I distrust your deceptive beauty! I am like a lover who distrusts an overly smooth smile.

As he pusheth the best-beloved before him—tender even in severity, the jealous one—, so do I push this blissful hour before me.

A jealous man pushes his beloved before him, tender even when he is strict. In the same way, I push this blissful hour before me.

Away with thee, thou blissful hour! With thee hath there come to me an involuntary bliss! Ready for my severest pain do I here stand:—at the wrong time hast thou come!

Go away, you blissful hour! You have brought me a joy I did not choose! I stand here ready for my deepest pain. You have come at the wrong time!

Away with thee, thou blissful hour! Rather harbour there—with my children! Hasten! and bless them before eventide with MY happiness!

Go now, you blissful hour! Stay there with my children instead! Hurry! Bless them with MY happiness before evening!

There, already approacheth eventide: the sun sinketh. Away—my happiness!—

There, evening is already approaching. The sun is setting. Away, my happiness!

Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole night; but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: “Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman.”

Thus spoke Zarathustra. He waited for his misfortune all night, but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came closer and closer to him. Toward morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to himself and said mockingly: “Happiness runs after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman.”