The Land of Culture

Too far did I fly into the future: a horror seized upon me.

I flew too far into the future. Horror seized me.

And when I looked around me, lo! there time was my sole contemporary.

And when I looked around me, I saw that time was my only contemporary.

Then did I fly backwards, homewards—and always faster. Thus did I come unto you, ye present-day men, and into the land of culture.

Then I flew backward, toward home, faster and faster. And so I came to you, people of today, and to the land of culture.

For the first time brought I an eye to see you, and good desire: verily, with longing in my heart did I come.

For the first time, I came to see you with open eyes and goodwill. Truly, I came with longing in my heart.

But how did it turn out with me? Although so alarmed—I had yet to laugh! Never did mine eye see anything so motley-coloured!

But how did things turn out for me? Although I was so alarmed, I still had to laugh! I had never seen anything so colorful!

I laughed and laughed, while my foot still trembled, and my heart as well. “Here forsooth, is the home of all the paintpots,”—said I.

I laughed and laughed, while my foot and my heart still trembled. “This really is the home of all the paintpots,” I said.

With fifty patches painted on faces and limbs—so sat ye there to mine astonishment, ye present-day men!

With fifty patches painted on your faces and limbs, you sat there, to my astonishment, you modern men!

And with fifty mirrors around you, which flattered your play of colours, and repeated it!

And fifty mirrors surrounded you, flattering and reflecting your shifting colors!

Verily, ye could wear no better masks, ye present-day men, than your own faces! Who could—RECOGNISE you!

Truly, you modern people could wear no better masks than your own faces! Who could RECOGNIZE you!

Written all over with the characters of the past, and these characters also pencilled over with new characters—thus have ye concealed yourselves well from all decipherers!

You are covered in the characters of the past, with new characters penciled over them. In this way, you have hidden yourselves well from everyone who tries to decipher you!

And though one be a trier of the reins, who still believeth that ye have reins! Out of colours ye seem to be baked, and out of glued scraps.

And even if someone can probe the inner self, who still believes you have one? You seem to be baked from colors and glued scraps.

All times and peoples gaze divers-coloured out of your veils; all customs and beliefs speak divers-coloured out of your gestures.

All times and peoples gaze out from your veils in many colors. All customs and beliefs speak through your gestures in many colors.

He who would strip you of veils and wrappers, and paints and gestures, would just have enough left to scare the crows.

Anyone who stripped away your veils, coverings, makeup, and gestures would have just enough left to scare the crows.

Verily, I myself am the scared crow that once saw you naked, and without paint; and I flew away when the skeleton ogled at me.

Indeed, I am the frightened crow who once saw you naked and without paint. And I flew away when the skeleton leered at me.

Rather would I be a day-labourer in the nether-world, and among the shades of the bygone!—Fatter and fuller than ye, are forsooth the nether-worldlings!

I would rather be a day laborer in the underworld, among the spirits of the dead! Indeed, the inhabitants of the underworld are fatter and fuller than you!

This, yea this, is bitterness to my bowels, that I can neither endure you naked nor clothed, ye present-day men!

Yes, this turns my stomach: I cannot stand you modern people, either naked or clothed!

All that is unhomelike in the future, and whatever maketh strayed birds shiver, is verily more homelike and familiar than your “reality.”

Everything unfamiliar in the future, and everything that makes lost birds shiver, is truly more familiar and welcoming than your “reality.”

For thus speak ye: “Real are we wholly, and without faith and superstition”: thus do ye plume yourselves—alas! even without plumes!

For you say: “We are completely real, without faith or superstition.” You pride yourselves on this. Alas, you strut without feathers!

Indeed, how would ye be ABLE to believe, ye divers-coloured ones!—ye who are pictures of all that hath ever been believed!

Indeed, how could you believe, you many-colored ones! You are images of all that has ever been believed!

Perambulating refutations are ye, of belief itself, and a dislocation of all thought. UNTRUSTWORTHY ONES: thus do I call you, ye real ones!

You are walking refutations of belief itself, and you throw all thought into confusion. UNTRUSTWORTHY ONES: that is what I call you, you real ones!

All periods prate against one another in your spirits; and the dreams and pratings of all periods were even realer than your awakeness!

All ages chatter against one another in your spirits. And the dreams and chatter of all ages were even more real than your waking life!

Unfruitful are ye: THEREFORE do ye lack belief. But he who had to create, had always his presaging dreams and astral premonitions—and believed in believing!—

You are unfruitful, and THAT IS WHY you lack belief. But anyone who had to create always had prophetic dreams and signs from the stars, and believed in believing!

Half-open doors are ye, at which grave-diggers wait. And this is YOUR reality: “Everything deserveth to perish.”

You are half-open doors where gravediggers wait. And this is YOUR reality: “Everything deserves to perish.”

Alas, how ye stand there before me, ye unfruitful ones; how lean your ribs! And many of you surely have had knowledge thereof.

Alas, you unfruitful ones, look at how you stand before me. How thin your ribs are! And surely many of you have known it.

Many a one hath said: “There hath surely a God filched something from me secretly whilst I slept? Verily, enough to make a girl for himself therefrom!

Many people have said: “Surely a God secretly stole something from me while I slept? Enough, indeed, to make himself a girl from it!

“Amazing is the poverty of my ribs!” thus hath spoken many a present-day man.

“It's amazing how poor my ribs are!” many a modern man has said.

Yea, ye are laughable unto me, ye present-day men! And especially when ye marvel at yourselves!

Yes, you people of today are laughable to me! Especially when you marvel at yourselves!

And woe unto me if I could not laugh at your marvelling, and had to swallow all that is repugnant in your platters!

And how miserable I would be if I could not laugh at your wonder and had to swallow everything disgusting on your platters!

As it is, however, I will make lighter of you, since I have to carry what is heavy; and what matter if beetles and May-bugs also alight on my load!

But as things stand, I will make light of you, since I have to carry what is heavy. And what does it matter if beetles and May-bugs also land on my load?

Verily, it shall not on that account become heavier to me! And not from you, ye present-day men, shall my great weariness arise.—

Surely, that will not make it heavier for me! And my great weariness will not come from you, people of today.

Ah, whither shall I now ascend with my longing! From all mountains do I look out for fatherlands and motherlands.

Ah, where can I climb now with my longing! From all the mountains, I look out for fatherlands and motherlands.

But a home have I found nowhere: unsettled am I in all cities, and decamping at all gates.

But I have found a home nowhere. I feel unsettled in every city and am always leaving through its gates.

Alien to me, and a mockery, are the present-day men, to whom of late my heart impelled me; and exiled am I from fatherlands and motherlands.

The people of today, whom my heart recently drew me to, are strangers to me and a mockery. I am exiled from fatherlands and motherlands.

Thus do I love only my CHILDREN’S LAND, the undiscovered in the remotest sea: for it do I bid my sails search and search.

So I love only my CHILDREN’S LAND, still undiscovered in the most distant sea. I direct my sails to search and search for it.

Unto my children will I make amends for being the child of my fathers: and unto all the future—for THIS present-day!—

I will make amends to my children for being my fathers’ child. And I will make amends to all the future for THIS present day!

Thus spake Zarathustra.

That is what Zarathustra said.