《查拉图斯特拉如是说·第二部》第3节
XXIV. IN THE HAPPY ISLES. The figs fall from the trees, they are good and sweet; and in falling the red skins of them break. A north wind am I to ripe figs. Thus, like figs, do these doctrines fall for you, my friends: imbibe now their juice and their sweet substance! It is autumn all around, and clear sky, and afternoon. Lo, what fulness is around us! And out of the midst of superabundance, it is delightful to look out upon distant seas. Once did people say God, when they looked out upon distant seas; now, however, have I taught you to say, Superman. God is a conjecture: but I do not wish your conjecturing to reach beyond your creating will. Could ye CREATE a God?—Then, I pray you, be silent about all Gods! But ye could well create the Superman. Not perhaps ye yourselves, my brethren! But into fathers and forefathers of the Superman could ye transform yourselves: and let that be your best creating!— God is a conjecture: but I should like your conjecturing restricted to the conceivable. Could ye CONCEIVE a God?—But let this mean Will to Truth unto you, that everything be transformed into the humanly conceivable, the humanly visible, the humanly sensible! Your own discernment shall ye follow out to the end! And what ye have called the world shall but be created by you: your reason, your likeness, your will, your love, shall it itself become! And verily, for your bliss, ye discerning ones! And how would ye endure life without that hope, ye discerning ones? Neither in the inconceivable could ye have been born, nor in the irrational. But that I may reveal my heart entirely unto you, my friends: IF there were gods, how could I endure it to be no God! THEREFORE there are no Gods. Yea, I have drawn the conclusion; now, however, doth it draw me.— God is a conjecture: but who could drink all the bitterness of this conjecture without dying? Shall his faith be taken from the creating one, and from the eagle his flights into eagle-heights? God is a thought—it maketh all the straight crooked, and all that standeth reel. What? Time would be gone, and all the perishable would be but a lie? To think this is giddiness and vertigo to human limbs, and even vomiting to the stomach: verily, the reeling sickness do I call it, to conjecture such a thing. Evil do I call it and misanthropic: all that teaching about the one, and the plenum, and the unmoved, and the sufficient, and the imperishable! All the imperishable—that’s but a simile, and the poets lie too much.— But of time and of becoming shall the best similes speak: a praise shall they be, and a justification of all perishableness!
注释摘要
查拉图斯特拉此刻身处幸福岛上，面对他的朋友们说话。整个场景被镀上一层盛夏入秋的光——无花果熟得自动从枝头坠落，殷红的表皮在落地时迸裂开来，周围是清澄的天空与午后，一种几乎要溢出边界的丰盈。他把自已比作北风，把自已的学说比作被北风吹落的成熟无花果，请朋友们啜饮其汁液与甜美。这个意象本身就是对“施教”的重新定义：不是命令，不是苦修，而是成熟之物自然而然的馈赠。…