Ten years passed by-- Not a drop reached me, No rain-fraught wind, no dew of love --A rainless land.... Now entreat I my wisdom Not to become stingy in this drought; Overflow thyself, trickle thy dew, Be thyself the rain of the parched wilderness! I once bade the clouds Depart from my mountains; Once I said to them, "More light, ye dark ones!" To-day I entice them to come: Make me dark with your udders: --I would milk you, Ye cows of the heights! Milk-warm wisdom, sweet dew of love I pour over the land. Away, away, ye truths That look so gloomy! I will not have on my mountains Bitter, impatient truths. May truth approach me to-day Gilded by smiles, Sweetened by the sun, browned by love,-- A ripe truth I would fain break off from the tree. To-day I stretch my hands Toward the tresses of chance, Wise enough to lead, To outwit chance like a child. To-day I will be hospitable 'Gainst the unwelcome, 'Gainst destiny itself I will not be prickly.... --Zarathustra is no hedgehog. My soul, Insatiable with its tongue, Has already tasted of all things good and evil, And has dived into all depths. But ever, like the cork, It swims to the surface again, And floats like oil upon brown seas: Because of this soul men call me fortunate. Who are my father and mother? Is not my father Prince Plenty? And my mother Silent Laughter? Did not the union of these two Beget me, the enigmatic beast-- Me, the monster of light-- Me, Zarathustra, the squanderer of all wisdom? Sick to-day from tenderness, A dewy wind, Zarathustra sits waiting, waiting on his mountains-- Sweet and stewing In his own juice, Beneath his own summit, Beneath his ice, Weary and happy, A Creator on his seventh day. --Silence! A truth passes over me Like a cloud,-- With invisible lightnings it strikes me, On broad, slow stairs, Its happiness climbs to me: Come, come, beloved truth! --Silence! 'Tis _my_ truth! From timid eyes, From velvet shudders, Her glance meets mine, Sweet and wicked, a maiden's glance. She has guessed the reason of my happiness, She has guessed me--ha! what is she thinking? A purple dragon Lurks in the abyss of her maiden's glance. --Silence! My truth is speaking!-- "Woe to thee, Zarathustra! Thou lookest like one That hath swallowed gold: They will slit up thy belly yet! Thou art too rich, Thou corrupter of many! Thou makest too many jealous, Too many poor.... Even on me thy light casts a shadow-- I feel chill: go away, thou rich one Go away, Zarathustra, from the path of thy sun BETWEEN BIRDS OF PREY