Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: ‘What knowest thou thereof! The dew falleth on the grass when the night is most silent.’

And I answered: ‘They mocked me when I found and walked in mine own path; and certainly did my feet then tremble.

And thus did they speak unto me: “Thou forgottest the path before, now dost thou also forget how to walk!” ’

Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: ‘What matter about their mockery! Thou art one who hast unlearned to obey; now shalt thou command!

Knowest thou not who is most needed by all? He who commandeth great things.

To execute great things is difficult: but the more difficult task is to command great things.

This is thy most unpardonable obstinacy: thou hast the power, and thou wilt not rule.’

And I answered: ‘I lack the lion’s voice for all commanding.’

Then was there again spoken unto me as a whispering: ‘It is the stillest words which bring the storm. Thoughts that come with doves’ footsteps guide the world.

O Zarathustra, thou shalt go as a shadow of that which is to come: thus wilt thou command, and in commanding go foremost.’

And I answered: ‘I am ashamed.’

Then was there again spoken unto me without voice: ‘Thou must yet become a child, and be without shame.

The pride of youth is still upon thee; late hast thou become young, but he who would become a child must surmount even his youth.’

And I considered a long while, and trembled. At last, however, did I say what I had said at first. ‘I will not.’

Then did a laughing take place all around me. Alas, how that laughing lacerated my bowels and cut into my heart!

And there was spoken unto me for the last time: ‘O Zarathustra, thy fruits are ripe, but thou art not ripe for thy fruits!

So must thou go again into solitude; for thou shalt yet become mellow.’

And again was there a laughing, and it fled: then did it become still around me, as with a double stillness. I lay, however, on the ground, and the sweat flowed from my limbs.

Now have ye heard all, and why I have to return into my solitude. Nothing have I kept hidden from you, my friends.

But even this have ye heard from me, who am still the most reserved of men—and will be so!

Ah, my friends! I should have something more to say unto you! I should have something more to give unto you! Why do I not give it? Am I then a niggard?

  By PanEris using Melati.

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