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Oh heaven above me, you pure, deep heaven! You abyss of light! Gazing on you, I tremble with divine desires. Tossing myself up to your height, I find my depth! To hide myself in your purity is my innocence! God veils his beauty, just as you hide you your stars. You do not speak, and so you proclaim your wisdom to me.
You have risen mute over the raging sea for me today. Your love and your modesty are a revelation to my raging soul. You came to me beautiful, veiled in your beauty; you spoke to me mutely, obvious in your wisdom. How could I fail to see all the modesty of your soul in that! Before the sun you came to me, the loneliest one.
We have been friends from the beginning. We have grief, gruesomeness, and ground in common. Even the sun is common to us. We do not speak to each other, because we know too much. We keep silent with each other; we smile in our knowledge with each other.
Are you not the light of my fire? Do you not have the sister soul of my insight? Together, we learned everything. Together we learned to ascend beyond ourselves to ourselves, and to smile uncloudedly. To smile down out of luminous unclouded eyes over miles of distance, when under us constraint, purpose, and guilt steamed like rain.
When I wandered alone, what did my soul hunger for by night on labyrinthine paths? When climbed I mountains, who did I seek, if not you, on the mountain tops? All my wandering and mountain climbing was merely a makeshift necessity of the unskilled one. My entire will wants only to fly into you!
What have I hated more than passing clouds, and whatever taints you? I even hated mine own hatred because it tainted you! I detest the passing clouds, those stealthy big cats. They take from you and me what is common to us. The vast unbounded saying of ‘Yes’ and ‘Amen’. These mediators and mixers we detest: the passing clouds, those half and half ones that have neither learned to bless nor to curse from the heart.
I would rather sit in a cask, closed away from heaven, or in the abyss without heaven, than see you, luminous heaven, tainted with passing clouds! I’ve often longed to pin them fast with the jagged golden wires of lightning, so I might, like the thunder, beat the drum upon their kettle bellies; an angry drummer, because they rob me of your “Yea” and “Amen”!
I would rather have noise, thunder and tempest blasts, than this discreet, doubting cat repose. Among men, I hate soft treaders most of all, and half and half ones, and the doubting, hesitating, passing clouds. “He who cannot bless shall learn to curse!” This clear teaching dropped to me from the clear heavens. This star stands in my heaven even in dark nights.
I am a blesser and an approver, as long as you are around me, you pure, luminous heaven! You abyss of light! I carry my beneficent approval into all abysses. I strove for a long time so that I might one day free my hands for blessing. This is my blessing: to stand above everything as its own heaven, its round roof, its azure bell and eternal security. Blessed is he who blesses in this way!
All things are baptized in the font of eternity, and beyond good and evil. Good and evil themselves are but fugitive shadows, damp afflictions, and passing clouds. Ot is a blessing and not a blasphemy when I teach that “above all things there stands the heaven of chance, the heaven of innocence, the heaven of risk, the heaven of wantonness.”
Risk—that is the oldest nobility in the world. I gave it back to all things. I emancipated them from bondage under purpose. I put this freedom and celestial serenity like an azure bell above all things, when I taught that over them and through them, no “eternal Will” wills.
I put wantonness and folly in place of that Will, when I taught that “in everything there is one impossible thing: rationality!” A little reason, a germ of wisdom scattered from star to star is mixed in all things like yeast. For the sake of folly, wisdom is mixed into all things! A little wisdom is possible, but this blessed security have I found in all things: that they prefer to dance on the feet of chance.
Heaven above me! You pure, lofty heaven! Your purity, to me, is that there is no eternal spider of reason and no cobwebs. You a dance floor for divine chances, a table for the gods, for divine dice and dice players!
Do you blush? Have I spoken unspeakable things? Have I abused you, when I meant to bless you? Or is it the shame of being two of us that makes you blush! Do you bid me leave you and be silent, because now day comes? The world is deep; deeper than the day could ever read. Not everything may be uttered in presence of day. But day comes, so let us part!
Oh heaven above me, you modest one! You glowing one! My happiness before sunrise! The day comes, so let us part!
So said Zarathustra.
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