Choosing Death

Many die too late, and some die too early. Yet strange soundeth the precept: “Die at the right time!”

Many die too late, and some die too early. Yet the advice sounds strange: “Die at the right time!”

Die at the right time: so teacheth Zarathustra.

Die at the right time: that is what Zarathustra teaches.

To be sure, he who never liveth at the right time, how could he ever die at the right time? Would that he might never be born!—Thus do I advise the superfluous ones.

Of course, if someone never lives at the right time, how could he ever die at the right time? I wish he had never been born! That is my advice to the superfluous ones.

But even the superfluous ones make much ado about their death, and even the hollowest nut wanteth to be cracked.

But even those who are unnecessary make a fuss about their death, and even the hollowest nut wants to be cracked.

Every one regardeth dying as a great matter: but as yet death is not a festival. Not yet have people learned to inaugurate the finest festivals.

Everyone considers dying a great matter, but death is not yet a festival. People have not yet learned to begin the finest festivals.

The consummating death I show unto you, which becometh a stimulus and promise to the living.

I show you the death that brings life to completion, a death that inspires and promises something to the living.

His death, dieth the consummating one triumphantly, surrounded by hoping and promising ones.

The one who fulfills his life dies triumphantly, surrounded by those who hope and promise.

Thus should one learn to die; and there should be no festival at which such a dying one doth not consecrate the oaths of the living!

This is how one should learn to die. And at every festival, such a dying person should bless the vows of the living!

Thus to die is best; the next best, however, is to die in battle, and sacrifice a great soul.

This is the best way to die. The next best is to die in battle and sacrifice a great soul.

But to the fighter equally hateful as to the victor, is your grinning death which stealeth nigh like a thief,—and yet cometh as master.

But both the fighter and the victor equally hate your grinning death. It sneaks up like a thief, yet comes as a master.

My death, praise I unto you, the voluntary death, which cometh unto me because I want it.

I praise my death to you, a voluntary death that comes to me because I want it.

And when shall I want it?—He that hath a goal and an heir, wanteth death at the right time for the goal and the heir.

And when will I want it? Whoever has a goal and an heir wants death at the right time for both.

And out of reverence for the goal and the heir, he will hang up no more withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life.

And out of respect for the goal and the heir, he will no longer hang withered wreaths in the sanctuary of life.

Verily, not the rope-makers will I resemble: they lengthen out their cord, and thereby go ever backward.

I will certainly not be like the rope-makers. They make their ropes longer by walking backward.

Many a one, also, waxeth too old for his truths and triumphs; a toothless mouth hath no longer the right to every truth.

Many people also grow too old for their truths and triumphs. A toothless mouth no longer has a right to every truth.

And whoever wanteth to have fame, must take leave of honour betimes, and practise the difficult art of—going at the right time.

And whoever wants fame must leave honor behind early and practice the difficult art of leaving at the right time.

One must discontinue being feasted upon when one tasteth best: that is known by those who want to be long loved.

You must stop letting others feast on you when you taste best. Those who want to be loved for a long time know this.

Sour apples are there, no doubt, whose lot is to wait until the last day of autumn: and at the same time they become ripe, yellow, and shrivelled.

There are sour apples, no doubt, that must wait until the last day of autumn. Only then do they become ripe, yellow, and shriveled.

In some ageth the heart first, and in others the spirit. And some are hoary in youth, but the late young keep long young.

In some people, the heart ages first. In others, the spirit ages first. Some are gray-haired in youth, but those who are young late in life stay young for a long time.

To many men life is a failure; a poison-worm gnaweth at their heart. Then let them see to it that their dying is all the more a success.

For many men, life is a failure. A poisonous worm gnaws at their hearts. So let them make sure their deaths are all the more successful.

Many never become sweet; they rot even in the summer. It is cowardice that holdeth them fast to their branches.

Many never become sweet. They rot even in summer. Cowardice keeps them clinging to their branches.

Far too many live, and far too long hang they on their branches. Would that a storm came and shook all this rottenness and worm-eatenness from the tree!

Far too many people live, and they hang on their branches far too long. If only a storm would come and shake all this rotten, worm-eaten matter from the tree!

Would that there came preachers of SPEEDY death! Those would be the appropriate storms and agitators of the trees of life! But I hear only slow death preached, and patience with all that is “earthly.”

I wish preachers of QUICK death would come! They would be the right storms to shake the trees of life! But I hear only slow death preached, and patience with all that is “earthly.”

Ah! ye preach patience with what is earthly? This earthly is it that hath too much patience with you, ye blasphemers!

Ah! You preach patience with earthly things? Earthly things are too patient with you, you blasphemers!

Verily, too early died that Hebrew whom the preachers of slow death honour: and to many hath it proved a calamity that he died too early.

Truly, that Hebrew whom the preachers of slow death honor died too young. And his early death has been a calamity for many.

As yet had he known only tears, and the melancholy of the Hebrews, together with the hatred of the good and just—the Hebrew Jesus: then was he seized with the longing for death.

Until then, the Hebrew Jesus had known only tears, the melancholy of the Hebrews, and the hatred of the good and just. Then he was seized by a longing for death.

Had he but remained in the wilderness, and far from the good and just! Then, perhaps, would he have learned to live, and love the earth—and laughter also!

If only he had stayed in the wilderness, far from the good and just! Then perhaps he would have learned to live, to love the earth, and to love laughter too!

Believe it, my brethren! He died too early; he himself would have disavowed his doctrine had he attained to my age! Noble enough was he to disavow!

Believe me, my brothers! He died too young. He would have rejected his own teaching if he had lived to my age! He was noble enough to reject it!

But he was still immature. Immaturely loveth the youth, and immaturely also hateth he man and earth. Confined and awkward are still his soul and the wings of his spirit.

But he was still immature. The young man loves immaturely, and he also hates humanity and the earth immaturely. His soul and the wings of his spirit are still confined and awkward.

But in man there is more of the child than in the youth, and less of melancholy: better understandeth he about life and death.

But a man has more of the child in him than a youth does, and less melancholy. He understands life and death better.

Free for death, and free in death; a holy Naysayer, when there is no longer time for Yea: thus understandeth he about death and life.

Free to die and free in death, he is a holy Naysayer when there is no longer time to say yes. This is how he understands death and life.

That your dying may not be a reproach to man and the earth, my friends: that do I solicit from the honey of your soul.

My friends, I ask this of the honey of your soul: may your dying not be a reproach to humanity and the earth.

In your dying shall your spirit and your virtue still shine like an evening after-glow around the earth: otherwise your dying hath been unsatisfactory.

As you die, your spirit and virtue should still shine around the earth like the glow after sunset. Otherwise, your death has been unsatisfactory.

Thus will I die myself, that ye friends may love the earth more for my sake; and earth will I again become, to have rest in her that bore me.

This is how I will die, so that you, my friends, may love the earth more for my sake. I will become earth again, so I can rest in the earth that gave birth to me.

Verily, a goal had Zarathustra; he threw his ball. Now be ye friends the heirs of my goal; to you throw I the golden ball.

Indeed, Zarathustra had a goal. He threw his ball. Now, friends, you are the heirs to my goal. I throw the golden ball to you.

Best of all, do I see you, my friends, throw the golden ball! And so tarry I still a little while on the earth—pardon me for it!

Most of all, my friends, I love watching you throw the golden ball! So I will stay on earth a little longer. Forgive me for that!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.