| 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. |