THIRD PART.
58. LVIII. THE GREAT LONGING. (continued)
--Thou wilt have to sing with passionate song, until all seas turn calm to
hearken unto thy longing,--
--Until over calm longing seas the bark glideth, the golden marvel, around
the gold of which all good, bad, and marvellous things frisk:--
--Also many large and small animals, and everything that hath light
marvellous feet, so that it can run on violet-blue paths,--
--Towards the golden marvel, the spontaneous bark, and its master: he,
however, is the vintager who waiteth with the diamond vintage-knife,--
--Thy great deliverer, O my soul, the nameless one--for whom future songs
only will find names! And verily, already hath thy breath the fragrance of
future songs,--
--Already glowest thou and dreamest, already drinkest thou thirstily at all
deep echoing wells of consolation, already reposeth thy melancholy in the
bliss of future songs!--
O my soul, now have I given thee all, and even my last possession, and all
my hands have become empty by thee:--THAT I BADE THEE SING, behold, that
was my last thing to give!
That I bade thee sing,--say now, say: WHICH of us now--oweth thanks?--
Better still, however: sing unto me, sing, O my soul! And let me thank
thee!--
Thus spake Zarathustra.
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