The Priests

And one day Zarathustra made a sign to his disciples, and spake these words unto them:

One day, Zarathustra made a sign to his disciples and said to them:

“Here are priests: but although they are mine enemies, pass them quietly and with sleeping swords!

“Here are priests. Although they are my enemies, pass them quietly and keep your swords sheathed!

Even among them there are heroes; many of them have suffered too much—: so they want to make others suffer.

Even among them are heroes. Many have suffered too much, so they want to make others suffer.

Bad enemies are they: nothing is more revengeful than their meekness. And readily doth he soil himself who toucheth them.

They are bad enemies. Nothing is more vengeful than their meekness. Anyone who touches them easily gets dirty.

But my blood is related to theirs; and I want withal to see my blood honoured in theirs.”—

But my blood is related to theirs, and I also want to see my blood honored in theirs.”

And when they had passed, a pain attacked Zarathustra; but not long had he struggled with the pain, when he began to speak thus:

After they had passed, Zarathustra was struck by pain. But he had not struggled with it long before he began to speak:

It moveth my heart for those priests. They also go against my taste; but that is the smallest matter unto me, since I am among men.

My heart goes out to those priests. They too are not to my taste, but that matters little to me, since I live among people.

But I suffer and have suffered with them: prisoners are they unto me, and stigmatised ones. He whom they call Saviour put them in fetters:—

But I suffer and have suffered with them. To me, they are prisoners and bear the marks of shame. The one they call Savior put them in chains:

In fetters of false values and fatuous words! Oh, that some one would save them from their Saviour!

In chains of false values and foolish words! Oh, if only someone would save them from their Savior!

On an isle they once thought they had landed, when the sea tossed them about; but behold, it was a slumbering monster!

Once, as the sea tossed them about, they thought they had landed on an island. But look, it was a sleeping monster!

False values and fatuous words: these are the worst monsters for mortals—long slumbereth and waiteth the fate that is in them.

False values and foolish words are the worst monsters for mortals. The fate hidden in them sleeps and waits for a long time.

But at last it cometh and awaketh and devoureth and engulfeth whatever hath built tabernacles upon it.

But at last it comes and wakes up, devouring and engulfing whatever has built shelters upon it.

Oh, just look at those tabernacles which those priests have built themselves! Churches, they call their sweet-smelling caves!

Oh, just look at the houses of worship those priests have built for themselves! They call their sweet-smelling caves churches!

Oh, that falsified light, that mustified air! Where the soul—may not fly aloft to its height!

Oh, that false light, that musty air! There the soul cannot soar to its full height!

But so enjoineth their belief: “On your knees, up the stair, ye sinners!”

But their belief commands: “Climb the stairs on your knees, you sinners!”

Verily, rather would I see a shameless one than the distorted eyes of their shame and devotion!

Indeed, I would rather see a shameless person than eyes twisted by shame and devotion!

Who created for themselves such caves and penitence-stairs? Was it not those who sought to conceal themselves, and were ashamed under the clear sky?

Who made such caves and stairs for penance for themselves? Weren't they the ones who wanted to hide and felt ashamed under the clear sky?

And only when the clear sky looketh again through ruined roofs, and down upon grass and red poppies on ruined walls—will I again turn my heart to the seats of this God.

Only when the clear sky can be seen again through ruined roofs will I turn my heart back to the places of this God. Only when the sky looks down on grass and red poppies growing on ruined walls will I do so.

They called God that which opposed and afflicted them: and verily, there was much hero-spirit in their worship!

They called whatever opposed and tormented them God. And truly, there was much heroic spirit in their worship!

And they knew not how to love their God otherwise than by nailing men to the cross!

And they knew no other way to love their God than to nail men to the cross!

As corpses they thought to live; in black draped they their corpses; even in their talk do I still feel the evil flavour of charnel-houses.

They thought they could live as corpses. They dressed their corpses in black. Even in their speech, I can still sense the foul stench of a morgue.

And he who liveth nigh unto them liveth nigh unto black pools, wherein the toad singeth his song with sweet gravity.

And whoever lives near them lives near black pools, where the toad sings its song with sweet solemnity.

Better songs would they have to sing, for me to believe in their Saviour: more like saved ones would his disciples have to appear unto me!

They would have to sing better songs for me to believe in their Savior. His disciples would have to look more like people who have been saved!

Naked, would I like to see them: for beauty alone should preach penitence. But whom would that disguised affliction convince!

I would like to see them naked, because only beauty should call people to repent. But whom would that disguised suffering convince?

Verily, their Saviours themselves came not from freedom and freedom’s seventh heaven! Verily, they themselves never trod the carpets of knowledge!

Truly, their Saviours did not come from freedom or freedom’s seventh heaven! Truly, they never walked on the carpets of knowledge!

Of defects did the spirit of those Saviours consist; but into every defect had they put their illusion, their stop-gap, which they called God.

The spirit of those Saviours was made up of flaws. But for every flaw, they had an illusion, a makeshift remedy they called God.

In their pity was their spirit drowned; and when they swelled and o’erswelled with pity, there always floated to the surface a great folly.

Their spirit was drowned in pity. And whenever their pity swelled and overflowed, a great folly always floated to the surface.

Eagerly and with shouts drove they their flock over their foot-bridge; as if there were but one foot-bridge to the future! Verily, those shepherds also were still of the flock!

Eagerly and with shouts, they drove their flock across their footbridge. As if there were only one footbridge to the future! Truly, those shepherds were still part of the flock themselves!

Small spirits and spacious souls had those shepherds: but, my brethren, what small domains have even the most spacious souls hitherto been!

Those shepherds had small spirits and expansive souls. But, my brothers, even the most expansive souls have been such small realms until now!

Characters of blood did they write on the way they went, and their folly taught that truth is proved by blood.

They wrote in blood along the path they took, and their folly taught that blood proves truth.

But blood is the very worst witness to truth; blood tainteth the purest teaching, and turneth it into delusion and hatred of heart.

But blood is the worst possible witness to truth. Blood corrupts even the purest teaching, turning it into delusion and hatred in the heart.

And when a person goeth through fire for his teaching—what doth that prove! It is more, verily, when out of one’s own burning cometh one’s own teaching!

And when a person goes through fire for their teaching, what does that prove? It is truly greater when their teaching comes from their own burning!

Sultry heart and cold head; where these meet, there ariseth the blusterer, the “Saviour.”

A passionate heart and a cold head. Where they meet, the blustering “Saviour” arises.

Greater ones, verily, have there been, and higher-born ones, than those whom the people call Saviours, those rapturous blusterers!

There have indeed been greater and nobler people than those the people call Saviors, those rapturous blusterers!

And by still greater ones than any of the Saviours must ye be saved, my brethren, if ye would find the way to freedom!

And you must be saved by those even greater than any of the Saviors, my brothers, if you want to find the way to freedom!

Never yet hath there been a Superman. Naked have I seen both of them, the greatest man and the smallest man:—

There has never yet been a Superman. I have seen them both naked, the greatest man and the smallest man:

All-too-similar are they still to each other. Verily, even the greatest found I—all-too-human!—

They are still far too similar to one another. Truly, I found even the greatest to be all too human!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

This is what Zarathustra said.