SECOND PART.
32. XXXII. THE DANCE-SONG. (continued)
"Such is the language of all fish," saidst thou; "what THEY do not fathom
is unfathomable.
But changeable am I only, and wild, and altogether a woman, and no virtuous
one:
Though I be called by you men the 'profound one,' or the 'faithful one,'
'the eternal one,' 'the mysterious one.'
But ye men endow us always with your own virtues--alas, ye virtuous ones!"
Thus did she laugh, the unbelievable one; but never do I believe her and
her laughter, when she speaketh evil of herself.
And when I talked face to face with my wild Wisdom, she said to me angrily:
"Thou willest, thou cravest, thou lovest; on that account alone dost thou
PRAISE Life!"
Then had I almost answered indignantly and told the truth to the angry one;
and one cannot answer more indignantly than when one "telleth the truth" to
one's Wisdom.
For thus do things stand with us three. In my heart do I love only Life--
and verily, most when I hate her!
But that I am fond of Wisdom, and often too fond, is because she remindeth
me very strongly of Life!
She hath her eye, her laugh, and even her golden angle-rod: am I
responsible for it that both are so alike?
And when once Life asked me: "Who is she then, this Wisdom?"--then said I
eagerly: "Ah, yes! Wisdom!
One thirsteth for her and is not satisfied, one looketh through veils, one
graspeth through nets.
Is she beautiful? What do I know! But the oldest carps are still lured by
her.
Changeable is she, and wayward; often have I seen her bite her lip, and
pass the comb against the grain of her hair.
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