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

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

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

Here among this most remote realm of ice and rock—

Those I deemed changed into my kin,

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

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

The feast of feasts:

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

I compare it to parchment that the hand

But now alas! No arrow is dangerous

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

Where no one lives, in desolate polar zones,

Only he who changes remains akin to me.

That knock at my heart and window nightly,

Nothing but ghosts of friends!

Too often resisted his own strength,

Keep your door open to new friends!

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

Your hope stayed strong:

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

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

Friend Zarathustra has come, the guest of guests!

O noon of life! O time to celebrate!

I await friends, ready day and night

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

O summer garden!

Sprung from myself?

Who still reads the signs

O summer garden!

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

And my honey—who has tasted it? .....

Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting!

The one you wanted?

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

Now the world laughs, the dread curtain is rent,

Died in my mouth—

I learned to live

Now we celebrate together, certain of victory,

I await friends, ready day and night,

My realm—what realm stretches further?

In the heights my table was set for you: —

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

Who lives so close to the stars

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

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

Full of love and fear!

Unlearned man and god, curse and prayer?

At noon was the time one became two ...

Become a ghost who crosses glaciers?

This song is over—the sweet cry of longing

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

Restless happiness in standing, watching and waiting: —

Let the old go! Let the memories go!

Those I longed for,

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

That they have aged has driven them away:

To the grey yonder of the abyss?

Am I another? A stranger to myself?

— O withered word, once fragrant as the rose!

O noon of life! Second time of youth!

My bow is bent!

Wounded and stopped by his own victory?

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

A wrestler, who too often subdued himself?

Once you were young, now—you are younger!

I sought where the most biting wind blows?

O longing of youth that misunderstood itself!

— My old friends! Now how pale you look!

Love once inscribed on it, the faded ones?