THE OTHER DANCE SONG

1

Into your eyes I gazed lately, O life: I saw gold glint in your night eyes,—my heart stood still with delight:20

—I saw a golden bark glinting on darkened waters, a sinking, drinking, winking, golden tossing bark!

At my feet, frantic to dance, you cast a look, a laughing questioning melting tossing look:

Twice only you stirred your rattle with your small hands—then my feet already swung with the fury of dance.—

My heels raised themselves, my toes listened to understand you: for the dancer has his ears-in his toes!

I sprang to your side: then you fled back from my leap; and the tongue of your fleeing, flying hair licked me in its swing!

I sprang away from you and your serpents: then you stood there, half-turned, with your eyes full of desire.

With crooked glances—you teach me crooked ways; on crooked ways my feet learn—guile!

I fear you near, I love you far; your flight allures me, your seeking cures me—I suffer, but for you what would I not bear gladly!

Whose coldness inflames, whose hatred seduces, whose flight binds, whose mockery—induces:

—who would not hate you, you great woman who binds, en-winds, seduces, seeks, finds! Who would not love you, you innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner!

Where do you lure me now, you unruly paragon? And now you are fleeing from me again, you sweet wildcat and ingrate!

I dance after you, I follow even your faint traces. Where are you? Give me your hand! Or only a finger!

Here are caves and thickets: we shall go astray!—Stop! Stand still! Don’t you see owls and bats flitting past?

You owl! You bat! You want to confuse me? Where are we? You have learned such barking and howling from a dog.

You gnaw on me sweetly with little white teeth, from under your curly little mane your evil eyes flash at me!

This is a dance over stock and stone: I am the hunter—will you yet be my dog or my catch?

Now beside me! And quickly, you malicious leaper! Now up! And over!-Ah! In leaping I fell!

Oh, see me lying there, you prankster, and begging for grace! I would gladly walk with you—in some lovelier place!

-in love’s paths through silent mottled bushes! Or there along the lake: where goldfishes dance and swim!

Are you tired now? Over there are sheep and the red of evening: isn’t it nice to sleep while the shepherd plays his flute?

You are so very tired? I will carry you there, just let your arm sink! And if you are thirsty—indeed I have something, but your mouth would not like to drink it!—

—Oh this accursed, nimble, supple snake and slippery witch! Where have you gone? But from your hand two spots and red blotches itch on my face!

I am truly weary of always being your sheepish shepherd. You witch, if I have so far sung to you, now you will—cry to me!

You will dance and cry to the rhythm of my whip! But did I forget my whip?—No!“—

2

Then life answered me thus and kept her gentle ears closed:

“O Zarathustra! Do not crack your whip so terribly! You surely know: noise murders thought—21 and just now such tender thoughts are coming to me.

“We are both two real good-for-nothings and evil-for-nothings. Beyond good and evil we discovered our island and our green meadow—we two alone! Therefore we better like each other!

“And even if we do not love each other from the heart-must we then have a grudge against each other if we do not love each other from the heart?

“And that I like you, often too well, that you know: and the reason is that I am jealous of your wisdom. Ah, this mad old fool of wisdom!

“If your wisdom should one day run away from you, then would my love would quickly run away from you too.”—

At that life looked thoughtfully behind and around herself and said softly: “0 Zarathustra, you are not faithful enough to me!

“You do not love me nearly so much as you say; I know you are thinking of leaving me soon.

“There is an old heavy heavy booming bell: it booms out at night up to your cave:—

“—when you hear this bell beat the hour at midnight, then between one and twelve you think—

“—you think, O Zarathustra, I know it, of leaving me soon!”—

“Yes,” I answered hesitatingly, “but you also know—” And I said something into her ear, in the midst of her tangled yellow foolish tresses.

“You know that, O Zarathustra? No one knows that. ”

And we gazed at each other and looked at the green meadow, over which the cool evening was just passing, and we wept together. —But then life was dearer to me than all my wisdom had ever been.—

Thus spoke Zarathustra.

3

One!

O man! Take care!

Two!

What does the deep midnight speak?

Three!

“I slept, I slept-,

Four!

“From the deepest dream I awoke:—

Five!

“The world is deep,

Six!

“And deeper than the day had thought.

Seven!

“Deep is its woe—,

Eight!

“Joy—deeper yet than heartache:

Nine!

“Woe says: Go!

Ten!

“But all joy wants eternity—,

Eleven!

“—wants deep, deep eternity!”

Twelve!