The wedding has come for light and darkness .....

At noon was the time one became two ...

I await friends, ready day and night,

New friends! Come! It's time! It's time!

Unlearned man and god, curse and prayer?

I've become a wicked hunter!— Look how much

No longer friends, they are—what should I call them?—

Now we celebrate together, certain of victory,

A wrestler, who too often subdued himself?

And my honey—who has tasted it? .....

Those I deemed changed into my kin,

O summer garden!

Here among this most remote realm of ice and rock—

That they have aged has driven them away:

Is afraid to grasp,—like parchment that is discolored, burnt.

My realm—what realm stretches further?

Wounded and stopped by his own victory?

This song is over—the sweet cry of longing

O summer garden!

To the grey yonder of the abyss?

The one you wanted?

You hesitate, amazed—oh, you are quite sullen!

— There you are, friends!— Alas, but I am not

I await friends, ready day and night

O noon of life! Second time of youth!

What once tied us together, one hope's bond —

The friend of noon—no! do not ask who he is—

Nothing but ghosts of friends!

Love once inscribed on it, the faded ones?

That knock at my heart and window nightly,

I—am no longer the same? Hands, face, gait have changed?

Those I longed for,

Who lives so close to the stars

Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting: —

As that arrow,—away from here! For your own good! .....

Only he who changes remains akin to me.

Where no one lives, in desolate polar zones,

Become a ghost who crosses glaciers?

Died in my mouth—

In the heights my table was set for you: —

No, leave! Do not be angry! You—cannot live here:

A sorceror did it, the friend at the right time,

My bow is bent!

Sprung from myself?

Friend Zarathustra has come, the guest of guests!

O noon of life! O time to celebrate!

I learned to live

Full of love and fear!

But now alas! No arrow is dangerous

You turn away?— O heart, you have borne enough,

Once you were young, now—you are younger!

— My old friends! Now how pale you look!

Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting!

I sought where the most biting wind blows?

That look at me and say: "were we once friends?" —

Who still reads the signs

O longing of youth that misunderstood itself!

Let the old go! Let the memories go!

The strongest was he who drew his bow like this— —:

Now the world laughs, the dread curtain is rent,

Too often resisted his own strength,

Where are you friends? Come! It's time! It's time!

— O withered word, once fragrant as the rose!

The feast of feasts:

Here one has to be a hunter and chamois-like.

And what I am, to you friends—I am not?

Your hope stayed strong:

Keep your door open to new friends!

I compare it to parchment that the hand

Am I another? A stranger to myself?