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<h2> XXXIII. THE GRAVE-SONG. </h2>
<p>“Yonder is the grave-island, the silent isle; yonder also are the graves
of my youth. Thither will I carry an evergreen wreath of life.”</p>
<p>Resolving thus in my heart, did I sail o’er the sea.—</p>
<p>Oh, ye sights and scenes of my youth! Oh, all ye gleams of love, ye divine
fleeting gleams! How could ye perish so soon for me! I think of you to-day
as my dead ones.</p>
<p>From you, my dearest dead ones, cometh unto me a sweet savour,
heart-opening and melting. Verily, it convulseth and openeth the heart of
the lone seafarer.</p>
<p>Still am I the richest and most to be envied—I, the lonesomest one!
For I HAVE POSSESSED you, and ye possess me still. Tell me: to whom hath
there ever fallen such rosy apples from the tree as have fallen unto me?</p>
<p>Still am I your love’s heir and heritage, blooming to your memory with
many-hued, wild-growing virtues, O ye dearest ones!</p>
<p>Ah, we were made to remain nigh unto each other, ye kindly strange
marvels; and not like timid birds did ye come to me and my longing—nay,
but as trusting ones to a trusting one!</p>
<p>Yea, made for faithfulness, like me, and for fond eternities, must I now
name you by your faithlessness, ye divine glances and fleeting gleams: no
other name have I yet learnt.</p>
<p>Verily, too early did ye die for me, ye fugitives. Yet did ye not flee
from me, nor did I flee from you: innocent are we to each other in our
faithlessness.</p>
<p>To kill ME, did they strangle you, ye singing birds of my hopes! Yea, at
you, ye dearest ones, did malice ever shoot its arrows—to hit my
heart!</p>
<p>And they hit it! Because ye were always my dearest, my possession and my
possessedness: ON THAT ACCOUNT had ye to die young, and far too early!</p>
<p>At my most vulnerable point did they shoot the arrow—namely, at you,
whose skin is like down—or more like the smile that dieth at a
glance!</p>
<p>But this word will I say unto mine enemies: What is all manslaughter in
comparison with what ye have done unto me!</p>
<p>Worse evil did ye do unto me than all manslaughter; the irretrievable did
ye take from me:—thus do I speak unto you, mine enemies!</p>
<p>Slew ye not my youth’s visions and dearest marvels! My playmates took ye
from me, the blessed spirits! To their memory do I deposit this wreath and
this curse.</p>
<p>This curse upon you, mine enemies! Have ye not made mine eternal short, as
a tone dieth away in a cold night! Scarcely, as the twinkle of divine
eyes, did it come to me—as a fleeting gleam!</p>
<p>Thus spake once in a happy hour my purity: “Divine shall everything be
unto me.”</p>
<p>Then did ye haunt me with foul phantoms; ah, whither hath that happy hour
now fled!</p>
<p>“All days shall be holy unto me”—so spake once the wisdom of my
youth: verily, the language of a joyous wisdom!</p>
<p>But then did ye enemies steal my nights, and sold them to sleepless
torture: ah, whither hath that joyous wisdom now fled?</p>
<p>Once did I long for happy auspices: then did ye lead an owl-monster across
my path, an adverse sign. Ah, whither did my tender longing then flee?</p>
<p>All loathing did I once vow to renounce: then did ye change my nigh ones
and nearest ones into ulcerations. Ah, whither did my noblest vow then
flee?</p>
<p>As a blind one did I once walk in blessed ways: then did ye cast filth on
the blind one’s course: and now is he disgusted with the old footpath.</p>
<p>And when I performed my hardest task, and celebrated the triumph of my
victories, then did ye make those who loved me call out that I then
grieved them most.</p>
<p>Verily, it was always your doing: ye embittered to me my best honey, and
the diligence of my best bees.</p>
<p>To my charity have ye ever sent the most impudent beggars; around my
sympathy have ye ever crowded the incurably shameless. Thus have ye
wounded the faith of my virtue.</p>
<p>And when I offered my holiest as a sacrifice, immediately did your “piety”
put its fatter gifts beside it: so that my holiest suffocated in the fumes
of your fat.</p>
<p>And once did I want to dance as I had never yet danced: beyond all heavens
did I want to dance. Then did ye seduce my favourite minstrel.</p>
<p>And now hath he struck up an awful, melancholy air; alas, he tooted as a
mournful horn to mine ear!</p>
<p>Murderous minstrel, instrument of evil, most innocent instrument! Already
did I stand prepared for the best dance: then didst thou slay my rapture
with thy tones!</p>
<p>Only in the dance do I know how to speak the parable of the highest
things:—and now hath my grandest parable remained unspoken in my
limbs!</p>
<p>Unspoken and unrealised hath my highest hope remained! And there have
perished for me all the visions and consolations of my youth!</p>
<p>How did I ever bear it? How did I survive and surmount such wounds? How
did my soul rise again out of those sepulchres?</p>
<p>Yea, something invulnerable, unburiable is with me, something that would
rend rocks asunder: it is called MY WILL. Silently doth it proceed, and
unchanged throughout the years.</p>
<p>Its course will it go upon my feet, mine old Will; hard of heart is its
nature and invulnerable.</p>
<p>Invulnerable am I only in my heel. Ever livest thou there, and art like
thyself, thou most patient one! Ever hast thou burst all shackles of the
tomb!</p>
<p>In thee still liveth also the unrealisedness of my youth; and as life and
youth sittest thou here hopeful on the yellow ruins of graves.</p>
<p>Yea, thou art still for me the demolisher of all graves: Hail to thee, my
Will! And only where there are graves are there resurrections.—</p>
<p>Thus sang Zarathustra.</p>
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