Old and Young Women

“Why stealest thou along so furtively in the twilight, Zarathustra? And what hidest thou so carefully under thy mantle?

“Why are you sneaking around so furtively in the twilight, Zarathustra? And what are you hiding so carefully under your cloak?

Is it a treasure that hath been given thee? Or a child that hath been born thee? Or goest thou thyself on a thief’s errand, thou friend of the evil?”—

Have you been given a treasure? Or has a child been born to you? Or are you on a thief’s errand yourself, you friend of evil?”

Verily, my brother, said Zarathustra, it is a treasure that hath been given me: it is a little truth which I carry.

Truly, my brother, said Zarathustra, I have been given a treasure. It is a small truth that I carry.

But it is naughty, like a young child; and if I hold not its mouth, it screameth too loudly.

But it is naughty, like a young child. If I don’t hold its mouth shut, it screams too loudly.

As I went on my way alone to-day, at the hour when the sun declineth, there met me an old woman, and she spake thus unto my soul:

Today, as I walked alone at sunset, I met an old woman. She spoke to my soul:

“Much hath Zarathustra spoken also to us women, but never spake he unto us concerning woman.”

“Zarathustra has also spoken much to us women, but he has never spoken to us about woman.”

And I answered her: “Concerning woman, one should only talk unto men.”

And I answered her: “One should only talk about women with men.”

“Talk also unto me of woman,” said she; “I am old enough to forget it presently.”

“Tell me about women too,” she said. “I am old enough to forget it soon.”

And I obliged the old woman and spake thus unto her:

And I obliged the old woman and said to her:

Everything in woman is a riddle, and everything in woman hath one solution—it is called pregnancy.

Everything about a woman is a riddle, and everything about a woman has one solution: pregnancy.

Man is for woman a means: the purpose is always the child. But what is woman for man?

For a woman, a man is a means to an end. The goal is always the child. But what is a woman to a man?

Two different things wanteth the true man: danger and diversion. Therefore wanteth he woman, as the most dangerous plaything.

The true man wants two things: danger and diversion. So he wants woman, the most dangerous plaything.

Man shall be trained for war, and woman for the recreation of the warrior: all else is folly.

Men should be trained for war, and women to provide recreation for warriors. Everything else is foolishness.

Too sweet fruits—these the warrior liketh not. Therefore liketh he woman;—bitter is even the sweetest woman.

The warrior does not like fruit that is too sweet. That is why he likes women. Even the sweetest woman is bitter.

Better than man doth woman understand children, but man is more childish than woman.

Women understand children better than men do, but men are more childish than women.

In the true man there is a child hidden: it wanteth to play. Up then, ye women, and discover the child in man!

Inside every true man is a hidden child who wants to play. Come, women, discover the child in man!

A plaything let woman be, pure and fine like the precious stone, illumined with the virtues of a world not yet come.

Let woman be a plaything, pure and fine like a precious stone, lit by the virtues of a world yet to come.

Let the beam of a star shine in your love! Let your hope say: “May I bear the Superman!”

Let the light of a star shine in your love! Let your hope say: “May I give birth to the Superman!”

In your love let there be valour! With your love shall ye assail him who inspireth you with fear!

Let there be courage in your love! With your love, attack the one who makes you afraid!

In your love be your honour! Little doth woman understand otherwise about honour. But let this be your honour: always to love more than ye are loved, and never be the second.

Let your love be your honor! Women understand little else about honor. But let this be your honor: always love more than you are loved, and never be second.

Let man fear woman when she loveth: then maketh she every sacrifice, and everything else she regardeth as worthless.

Let a man fear a woman when she loves. Then she makes every sacrifice and considers everything else worthless.

Let man fear woman when she hateth: for man in his innermost soul is merely evil; woman, however, is mean.

A man should fear a woman when she hates. For deep down, a man is merely evil, but a woman is mean.

Whom hateth woman most?—Thus spake the iron to the loadstone: “I hate thee most, because thou attractest, but art too weak to draw unto thee.”

Whom does woman hate most? The iron said to the magnet: “I hate you most because you attract me, but are too weak to pull me to you.”

The happiness of man is, “I will.” The happiness of woman is, “He will.”

A man's happiness is, “I will.” A woman's happiness is, “He will.”

“Lo! now hath the world become perfect!”—thus thinketh every woman when she obeyeth with all her love.

“Look! Now the world has become perfect!” Every woman thinks this when she obeys with all her love.

Obey, must the woman, and find a depth for her surface. Surface, is woman’s soul, a mobile, stormy film on shallow water.

A woman must obey and find depth for her surface. A woman’s soul is all surface, a shifting, stormy film on shallow water.

Man’s soul, however, is deep, its current gusheth in subterranean caverns: woman surmiseth its force, but comprehendeth it not.—

But a man’s soul is deep. Its current rushes through underground caverns. A woman senses its power but does not understand it.

Then answered me the old woman: “Many fine things hath Zarathustra said, especially for those who are young enough for them.

Then the old woman answered me: “Zarathustra has said many fine things, especially for those who are young enough for them.

Strange! Zarathustra knoweth little about woman, and yet he is right about them! Doth this happen, because with women nothing is impossible?

Strange! Zarathustra knows little about women, and yet he is right about them! Is this because nothing is impossible with women?

And now accept a little truth by way of thanks! I am old enough for it!

And now, please accept a little truth as thanks! I am old enough for that!

Swaddle it up and hold its mouth: otherwise it will scream too loudly, the little truth.”

Wrap it up and cover its mouth, or the little truth will scream too loudly.”

“Give me, woman, thy little truth!” said I. And thus spake the old woman:

“Woman, tell me your little truth!” I said. And the old woman said:

“Thou goest to women? Do not forget thy whip!”—

“Are you going to women? Don't forget your whip!”

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.