That knock at my heart and window nightly,
O noon of life! O time to celebrate!
I compare it to parchment that the hand
Unlearned man and god, curse and prayer?
Now the world laughs, the dread curtain is rent,
You turn away?— O heart, you have borne enough,
O longing of youth that misunderstood itself!
The wedding has come for light and darkness .....
And what I am, to you friends—I am not?
— There you are, friends!— Alas, but I am not
Nothing but ghosts of friends!
— O withered word, once fragrant as the rose!
Here among this most remote realm of ice and rock—
What once tied us together, one hope's bond —
Am I another? A stranger to myself?
Who still reads the signs
Too often resisted his own strength,
To the grey yonder of the abyss?
Is afraid to grasp,—like parchment that is discolored, burnt.
Those I deemed changed into my kin,
I await friends, ready day and night,
But now alas! No arrow is dangerous
The friend of noon—no! do not ask who he is—
No longer friends, they are—what should I call them?—
At noon was the time one became two ...
Once you were young, now—you are younger!
Where are you friends? Come! It's time! It's time!
Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting!
That they have aged has driven them away:
As that arrow,—away from here! For your own good! .....
This song is over—the sweet cry of longing
Now we celebrate together, certain of victory,
In the heights my table was set for you: —
Friend Zarathustra has come, the guest of guests!
I await friends, ready day and night
And my honey—who has tasted it? .....
My realm—what realm stretches further?
Let the old go! Let the memories go!
You hesitate, amazed—oh, you are quite sullen!
A wrestler, who too often subdued himself?
No, leave! Do not be angry! You—cannot live here:
Here one has to be a hunter and chamois-like.
Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting: —
Love once inscribed on it, the faded ones?
The strongest was he who drew his bow like this— —:
Wounded and stopped by his own victory?
That look at me and say: "were we once friends?" —
A sorceror did it, the friend at the right time,
I—am no longer the same? Hands, face, gait have changed?
Only he who changes remains akin to me.
I sought where the most biting wind blows?
New friends! Come! It's time! It's time!
