《查拉图斯特拉如是说·第三部》第51节
Thy fulness looketh forth over raging seas, and seeketh and waiteth: the longing of over-fulness looketh forth from the smiling heaven of thine eyes! And verily, O my soul! Who could see thy smiling and not melt into tears? The angels themselves melt into tears through the over-graciousness of thy smiling. Thy graciousness and over-graciousness, is it which will not complain and weep: and yet, O my soul, longeth thy smiling for tears, and thy trembling mouth for sobs. “Is not all weeping complaining? And all complaining, accusing?” Thus speakest thou to thyself; and therefore, O my soul, wilt thou rather smile than pour forth thy grief— —Than in gushing tears pour forth all thy grief concerning thy fulness, and concerning the craving of the vine for the vintager and vintage-knife! But wilt thou not weep, wilt thou not weep forth thy purple melancholy, then wilt thou have to SING, O my soul!—Behold, I smile myself, who foretell thee this: —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.
注释摘要
这段独白是查拉图斯特拉康复之后与自己的灵魂所进行的一场深切对话的高潮部分。他在这里处理的，不再是外部的敌人或人群，而是内在满溢本身所带来的一种特殊的痛苦：丰足到了极致，竟生出了渴望。以前面篇幅的铺垫来看，这段文本的核心张力在于满溢与倾泻之间的转折——一种因过度丰盈而产生的、近乎忧伤的渴望。 “你的丰足眺望着喧嚣的海洋，寻觅着，等待着”——灵魂自身并不贫乏，…