Such is my will: And since 'tis my will, All goes as I wish-- That was my final wisdom: I willed what I must, And thus I forced every "must,"-- Since then has been for me no "must." 23 Deceit Is war's whole art The fox's skin Is my secret shirt of mail 25 We of the new underworld Grub for new treasures. Godless it seemed to the ancients To disturb the earth's bowels for treasures And once more this godlessness revives, Hear ye not earth's bowels thunder? 28 Looking for love and finding masks, Finding accursed masks and having to break them! 29 Do I love you? Yes, as the rider loves his steed, That carryeth him to his goal. 30 His pity is cruel, His loving hand-clasp bruises, Give not a giant your hand! 31 Ye fear me? Ye fear the taut-strung bow? Ye fear a man might set his arrow to the bow? 33 I am naught but a word-maker. What matter words? What matter I? 34 Ah, my friends, Whither has flown all that is called "good"? Whither all good people? Whither the innocence of all these falsehoods? I call all good, Leaves and grass, happiness, blessing, and rain. 35 Not through his sins and greatest follies. Through his perfection I suffered, As I suffered most from men.[1] 36 "Man is evil." So spake the wisest For my consolement. 37 And only when I to myself am a burden Do ye fall heavy upon me! 38 Too soon, already I laugh again: For a foe 'tis easy To make me amends. 39 Gentle am I towards man and chance; Gentle with all men, and even with grasses: A spot of sunshine on winter curtains, Moist with tenderness, A thawing wind to snow-bound souls: * * * * Proud-minded towards trifling Gains, where I see the huckster's long finger, 'Tis aye my pleasure To be bamboozled: Such is the bidding of my fastidious taste. 40 A strange breath breathes and spits at me, Am I a mirror, that straightway is clouded? 41 Little people, Confiding, open-hearted, But low-built portals, Where only the low of stature can enter. * * * * How can I get through the city-gate Who had forgotten to live among dwarfs? 42 My wisdom was like to the sun, I longed to give them light, But I only deceived them. The sun of my wisdom Blinded the eyes Of these poor bats.... 43 Blacker and eviller things didst thou see than ever a seer did: Through the revels of Hell no sage had ever journeyed. 44 Back! on my heels too closely ye follow! Back! lest my wisdom should tread on you, crush you! 45