The Gay Science. Friedrich NietzscheЧитать онлайн книгу.
an hundred stairs,
I must ascend: the herd declares
I'm cruel: "Are we made of stone?"
I must ascend an hundred stairs:
All men the part of stair disown.
27.
The Wanderer.
"No longer path! Abyss and silence chilling!"
Thy fault! To leave the path thou wast too willing!
Now comes the test! Keep cool—eyes bright and clear!
Thou'rt lost for sure, if thou permittest—fear.
28.
Encouragement for Beginners.
See the infant, helpless creeping—
Swine around it grunt swine-talk—
Weeping always, naught but weeping,
Will it ever learn to walk?
Never fear! Just wait, I swear it
Soon to dance will be inclined,
And this babe, when two legs bear it,
Standing on its head you'll find.
29.
Planet Egoism.
Did I not turn, a rolling cask,
Ever about myself, I ask,
How could I without burning run
Close on the track of the hot sun?
30.
The Neighbour.
Too nigh, my friend my joy doth mar,
I'd have him high above and far,
Or how can he become my star?
31.
The Disguised Saint.
Lest we for thy bliss should slay thee,
In devil's wiles thou dost array thee,
Devil's wit and devil's dress.
But in vain! Thy looks betray thee
And proclaim thy holiness.
32.
The Slave.
A. He stands and listens: whence his pain? What smote his ears? Some far refrain? Why is his heart with anguish torn? B. Like all that fetters once have worn, He always hears the clinking—chain!
33.
The Lone One.
I hate to follow and I hate to lead.
Obedience? no! and ruling? no, indeed!
Wouldst fearful be in others' sight?
Then e'en thyself thou must affright: The people but the Terror's guidance heed. I hate to guide myself, I hate the fray. Like the wild beasts I'll wander far afield. In Error's pleasing toils I'll roam Awhile, then lure myself back home, Back home, and—to my self-seduction yield.
34.
Seneca et hoc Genus omne.
They write and write (quite maddening me)
Their "sapient" twaddle airy,
As if 'twere primum scribere, Deinde philosophari.
35.
Ice.
Yes! I manufacture ice:
Ice may help you to digest:
If you had much to digest, How you would enjoy my ice!
36.
Youthful Writings.
My wisdom's A and final O
Was then the sound that smote mine ear.
Yet now it rings no longer so,
My youth's eternal Ah! and Oh!
Is now the only sound I hear.4
37.
Foresight.
In yonder region travelling, take good care!
An hast thou wit, then be thou doubly ware!
They'll smile and lure thee; then thy limbs they'll tear:
Fanatics' country this where wits are rare!
38.
The Pious One Speaks.
God loves us, for he made us, sent us here!— "Man hath made God!" ye subtle ones reply. His handiwork he must hold dear, And what he made shall he deny? There sounds the devil's halting hoof, I fear.
39.
In Summer.
In sweat of face, so runs the screed,
We e'er must eat our bread,
Yet wise physicians if we heed
"Eat naught in sweat," 'tis said.
The dog-star's blinking: what's his need?
What tells his blazing sign?
In sweat of face (so runs his screed) We're meant to drink our wine!
40.
Without Envy.
His look bewrays no envy: and ye laud him?
He cares not, asks not if your throng applaud him!
He has the eagle's eye for distance far,
He sees you not, he sees but star on star!
41.
Heraclitism.
Brethren, war's the origin
Of happiness on earth:
Powder-smoke and battle-din
Witness friendship's birth!
Friendship means three things, you know,—
Kinship in luckless plight,
Equality before the foe
Freedom—in death's sight!
42.
Maxim of the Over-refined.
"Rather on your toes stand high
Than crawl upon all fours,
Rather through the keyhole spy
Than through open doors!"
43.
Exhortation.
Renown you're quite resolved to earn?
My thought about it
Is this: you need not fame, must learn
To do without it!
44.
Thorough.
I an Inquirer? No, that's not my calling
Only I weigh a lot—I'm such a lump!— And through the waters I keep falling, falling, Till on the ocean's deepest bed I bump.
45.
The Immortals.
"To-day is meet for me, I come to-day,"
Such is the speech of men foredoomed to stay.
"Thou art too soon," they cry, "thou art too late,"
What care the Immortals what the rabble say?
46.
Verdicts of the Weary.
The weary shun the glaring sun, afraid,
And only care for trees to gain the shade.
47.