The Grave Song

“Yonder is the grave-island, the silent isle; yonder also are the graves of my youth. Thither will I carry an evergreen wreath of life.”

“There is the grave island, the silent island. The graves of my youth are there too. I will carry an evergreen wreath of life there.”

Resolving thus in my heart, did I sail o’er the sea.—

With this resolve in my heart, I sailed across the sea.

Oh, ye sights and scenes of my youth! Oh, all ye gleams of love, ye divine fleeting gleams! How could ye perish so soon for me! I think of you to-day as my dead ones.

Oh, sights and scenes of my youth! Oh, all you flashes of love, you divine, fleeting flashes! How could you fade so soon for me? Today I think of you as my dead loved ones.

From you, my dearest dead ones, cometh unto me a sweet savour, heart-opening and melting. Verily, it convulseth and openeth the heart of the lone seafarer.

From you, my dearest dead ones, comes a sweet fragrance that opens and melts my heart. Truly, it moves the lone seafarer’s heart and opens it.

Still am I the richest and most to be envied—I, the lonesomest one! For I HAVE POSSESSED you, and ye possess me still. Tell me: to whom hath there ever fallen such rosy apples from the tree as have fallen unto me?

Still, I am the richest and the most envied, even though I am the loneliest! For I HAVE POSSESSED you, and you still possess me. Tell me, who has ever had such rosy apples fall from the tree as I have?

Still am I your love’s heir and heritage, blooming to your memory with many-hued, wild-growing virtues, O ye dearest ones!

I am still both the heir to your love and its legacy, blooming in your memory with many-colored, wild-growing virtues, my dearest ones!

Ah, we were made to remain nigh unto each other, ye kindly strange marvels; and not like timid birds did ye come to me and my longing—nay, but as trusting ones to a trusting one!

Ah, we were meant to stay close to one another, you kind and strange wonders. You came to me and my longing, not like timid birds, but as trusting beings to someone who trusted you!

Yea, made for faithfulness, like me, and for fond eternities, must I now name you by your faithlessness, ye divine glances and fleeting gleams: no other name have I yet learnt.

Yes, you were made for faithfulness and loving eternities, like me. Yet now I must name you for your faithlessness, you divine glances and fleeting gleams. I have not yet learned any other name for you.

Verily, too early did ye die for me, ye fugitives. Yet did ye not flee from me, nor did I flee from you: innocent are we to each other in our faithlessness.

Truly, you died too early for me, you fugitives. Yet you did not flee from me, nor did I flee from you. We are innocent toward each other in our faithlessness.

To kill ME, did they strangle you, ye singing birds of my hopes! Yea, at you, ye dearest ones, did malice ever shoot its arrows—to hit my heart!

To kill ME, did they strangle you, singing birds of my hopes? Yes, my dearest ones, malice always shot its arrows at you to strike my heart!

And they hit it! Because ye were always my dearest, my possession and my possessedness: ON THAT ACCOUNT had ye to die young, and far too early!

And they hit it! You were always dearest to me, both what I possessed and what possessed me. THAT IS WHY you had to die young, far too early!

At my most vulnerable point did they shoot the arrow—namely, at you, whose skin is like down—or more like the smile that dieth at a glance!

They shot the arrow at my most vulnerable point: you, whose skin is like down, or rather like a smile that dies at a glance!

But this word will I say unto mine enemies: What is all manslaughter in comparison with what ye have done unto me!

But I will say this to my enemies: What is all killing compared with what you have done to me!

Worse evil did ye do unto me than all manslaughter; the irretrievable did ye take from me:—thus do I speak unto you, mine enemies!

You have done me greater harm than all the killing in the world. You have taken from me what can never be recovered. This is what I say to you, my enemies!

Slew ye not my youth’s visions and dearest marvels! My playmates took ye from me, the blessed spirits! To their memory do I deposit this wreath and this curse.

Did you not kill the visions and dearest wonders of my youth? You took my playmates from me, those blessed spirits! I lay this wreath and this curse in their memory.

This curse upon you, mine enemies! Have ye not made mine eternal short, as a tone dieth away in a cold night! Scarcely, as the twinkle of divine eyes, did it come to me—as a fleeting gleam!

A curse on you, my enemies! Haven’t you cut my eternity short, like a note dying away on a cold night? It came to me only as a fleeting gleam, like the twinkle of divine eyes!

Thus spake once in a happy hour my purity: “Divine shall everything be unto me.”

Once, in a happy hour, my purity said: “Everything shall be divine to me.”

Then did ye haunt me with foul phantoms; ah, whither hath that happy hour now fled!

Then you haunted me with horrible phantoms. Ah, where has that happy hour gone!

“All days shall be holy unto me”—so spake once the wisdom of my youth: verily, the language of a joyous wisdom!

“All days shall be holy to me.” So spoke the wisdom of my youth. Truly, these were the words of a joyful wisdom!

But then did ye enemies steal my nights, and sold them to sleepless torture: ah, whither hath that joyous wisdom now fled?

But then you enemies stole my nights and sold them to sleepless torture. Ah, where has that joyful wisdom gone?

Once did I long for happy auspices: then did ye lead an owl-monster across my path, an adverse sign. Ah, whither did my tender longing then flee?

Once I longed for signs of good fortune. Then you led an owl-monster across my path, a bad omen. Ah, where did my tender longing flee then?

All loathing did I once vow to renounce: then did ye change my nigh ones and nearest ones into ulcerations. Ah, whither did my noblest vow then flee?

I once vowed to give up all loathing. Then you turned those nearest and dearest to me into sores. Ah, where did my noblest vow go then?

As a blind one did I once walk in blessed ways: then did ye cast filth on the blind one’s course: and now is he disgusted with the old footpath.

I once walked blindly along blessed paths. Then you threw filth on my path, and now I am disgusted with the old path.

And when I performed my hardest task, and celebrated the triumph of my victories, then did ye make those who loved me call out that I then grieved them most.

And when I performed my hardest task and celebrated my victories, you made those who loved me cry out that I hurt them most then.

Verily, it was always your doing: ye embittered to me my best honey, and the diligence of my best bees.

Truly, you were always to blame: you made my best honey and the hard work of my best bees bitter to me.

To my charity have ye ever sent the most impudent beggars; around my sympathy have ye ever crowded the incurably shameless. Thus have ye wounded the faith of my virtue.

You have always sent the most shameless beggars to seek my charity. You have always crowded the incurably shameless around my sympathy. In this way, you have wounded my faith in my virtue.

And when I offered my holiest as a sacrifice, immediately did your “piety” put its fatter gifts beside it: so that my holiest suffocated in the fumes of your fat.

And when I offered what was most sacred to me as a sacrifice, your “piety” immediately placed its fatter gifts beside it. So what was most sacred to me suffocated in the fumes of your fat.

And once did I want to dance as I had never yet danced: beyond all heavens did I want to dance. Then did ye seduce my favourite minstrel.

Once, I wanted to dance as I had never danced before. I wanted to dance beyond all the heavens. Then you seduced my favorite minstrel.

And now hath he struck up an awful, melancholy air; alas, he tooted as a mournful horn to mine ear!

And now he has begun a dreadful, melancholy tune. Alas, he sounded to me like a mournful horn!

Murderous minstrel, instrument of evil, most innocent instrument! Already did I stand prepared for the best dance: then didst thou slay my rapture with thy tones!

Murderous musician, instrument of evil, most innocent instrument! I was already prepared for the best dance. Then your music killed my joy!

Only in the dance do I know how to speak the parable of the highest things:—and now hath my grandest parable remained unspoken in my limbs!

Only in dance can I express the parable of the highest things. And now my greatest parable remains unspoken in my limbs!

Unspoken and unrealised hath my highest hope remained! And there have perished for me all the visions and consolations of my youth!

My highest hope has remained unspoken and unfulfilled! And all the visions and comforts of my youth have died for me!

How did I ever bear it? How did I survive and surmount such wounds? How did my soul rise again out of those sepulchres?

How did I ever bear it? How did I survive and overcome such wounds? How did my soul rise again from those tombs?

Yea, something invulnerable, unburiable is with me, something that would rend rocks asunder: it is called MY WILL. Silently doth it proceed, and unchanged throughout the years.

Yes, something that cannot be harmed or buried is with me, something that could split rocks apart. It is called MY WILL. It moves forward silently, unchanged through the years.

Its course will it go upon my feet, mine old Will; hard of heart is its nature and invulnerable.

My old Will will go its own way on my feet. Its nature is hard-hearted and invulnerable.

Invulnerable am I only in my heel. Ever livest thou there, and art like thyself, thou most patient one! Ever hast thou burst all shackles of the tomb!

I am invulnerable only in my heel. You always live there and remain true to yourself, most patient one! You have always broken all the chains of the tomb!

In thee still liveth also the unrealisedness of my youth; and as life and youth sittest thou here hopeful on the yellow ruins of graves.

In you, the unfulfilled promise of my youth still lives. And like life and youth, you sit here hopefully on the yellow ruins of graves.

Yea, thou art still for me the demolisher of all graves: Hail to thee, my Will! And only where there are graves are there resurrections.—

Yes, you are still the destroyer of all graves to me. Hail to you, my Will! And only where there are graves can there be resurrections.

Thus sang Zarathustra.

This is how Zarathustra sang.