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