AMONG DAUGHTERS OF THE WILDERNESS

1

“DO NOT GO AWAY!” said the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra’s shadow, “stay with us, otherwise the old dark misery might fall on us again.

“Now that old magician has done his worst for our benefit, and behold, the good, pious pope has tears in his eyes, and has embarked again upon the sea of melancholy.

“Those kings there may well put on a good air before us yet: for they have learned that better than any of us today! But if they had no one to see them, I bet that with them too the bad game would commence again,—

—“the bad game of drifting clouds, of damp melancholy, of curtained heavens, of stolen suns, of howling autumn winds,

—“the bad game of our howling and crying for help! Stay with us, O Zarathustra! Here there is much hidden misery that wishes to speak, much evening, much cloud, much damp air!

“You have nourished us with strong food for men, and powerful proverbs: do not let the weakly, womanish spirits attack us again at dessert!

“You alone make the air around you strong and clear! Did I ever find anywhere on earth such good air as with you in your cave?

“Many lands have I seen, my nose has learned to test and estimate many kinds of air: but with you my nostrils taste their greatest delight!

“Except,—except—, oh forgive an old recollection! Forgive me an old after-dinner song, which I once composed among daughters of the wilderness:—

“For with them there was the same good, clear, oriental air; there I was furthest from cloudy, damp, melancholy old Europe!

“Then I loved such oriental girls and other blue kingdoms of heaven, over which hung no clouds and no thoughts.

“You would not believe how charmingly they sat there, when they did not dance, profound, but without thoughts, like little secrets, like ribboned riddles, like after-dinner nuts—

“colorful and foreign, indeed! but without clouds: riddles which can be guessed: to please such girls I then composed an after-dinner song.”

Thus spoke the wanderer who called himself Zarathustra’s shadow; and before any one answered him, he had seized the harp of the old magician, crossed his legs, and looked calmly and sagely around him:-but with his nostrils he inhaled the air slowly and questioningly, like one who in new countries tastes new foreign air. Thereupon he began to sing with a kind of roaring.

2

Wilderness grows: woe to him who harbors wildernesses!

—Ha! Solemnly! Indeed solemnly! A worthy beginning! African solemnity! Worthy of a lion Or of a moral howler monkey——but it’s nothing to you, You most charming friends, At whose feet I For the first time, A European under palm trees, Am permitted to sit. Selah.

Truly wonderful! Here I sit now, The wilderness near, and yet I am Again so far from the wilderness, And in no way devastated: That is, swallowed down By this smallest oasis—: —It opened simply yawning, Its sweetest mouth, Most sweet smelling of all little mouths: Then I fell in, Down, right through—among you, You best beloved friends! Selah.

Hail, hail that whale, If for its guests it made things So pleasant!—you understand My learned allusion? Hail to his belly, If it was Lovely as the belly of an oasis As this is: which, however, I call into question, —since I come from Europe, Which is more skeptical than any Little old wife. May God improve it! Amen!

Here I sit now, In this smallest oasis, Like a date, Brown, sweet, oozing gold, lusting For the round mouth of a girl, But even more for girlish Ice-cold snow white cutting Incisors: for after such Pants the heart of all hot dates. Selah.

As the aforementioned southern fruit Similar, all-too-similar, I lie here, by little Flying insects Sniffed around and played around, And also by still smaller, More foolish more sinful Wishes and notions,—Enveloped by you, You silent, you foreboding Cat girls, Dudu and Suleika, —Ensphinxed, to crowd many feelings Into a single word: (Forgive me God This sin of speech!) -I sit here sniffing the best air, Truly the air of paradise, Bright buoyant air, streaked with gold, As good air as ever Fell from the moon—Whether by chance, Or did it happen from playfulness? As the old poets relate. But I, a doubter, call it Into doubt, but with this I come Out of Europe, Which is more skeptical than any Little old wife. May God improve it! Amen!

Drinking this finest air, With nostrils swollen as cups, Without future, without memories, So I sit here, you Best beloved friends, And look at the palm tree, How she, like a dancer, Bows and bends and sways at the hips, —one does it too, if one watches long! Like a dancer who, it seems, Stood long, dangerously long, Always, always only on one leg? -so that she has forgotten, it seems, The other leg? In vain, at least, I searched for the missing Twin jewel -namely, the other leg—

In the holy vicinity Of her dearest, most delicate Flap-and flutter-and flicker-skirt. Yes, if you would, you beautiful friends, Believe me entirely: She has lost it! It is gone! Gone forever! The other leg! Oh what a shame about that lovely other leg! Where-may it be waiting and mourning forsaken? The lonely leg? Perhaps afraid of one Grim blonde locked Lion monster? Or perhaps even Gnawed off, nibbled away—Misery, alas! alas! Nibbled away! Selah.

Oh do not cry to me, Gentle hearts! Do not cry to me, you Date hearts! Milk breasts! You heart purses Of candy! Cry no more, Pale Dudu! Be a man, Suleika! Courage! Courage! -Or should perhaps Something bracing, heart bracing, Fit here? An unctuous proverb? A solemn exhortation?—

Ha! Up now, dignity! Virtuous dignity! European dignity! Blow, blow again, Bellows of virtue! Ha! Roar once more, Moral roaring! As a moral lion Roar before the daughters of the wilderness! -For virtuous howling, You dearest girls, Is more than anything else European fervor, European hot hunger! And here I stand now, As a European, I cannot do otherwise, God help me!11 Amen!

Wilderness grows: woe to him who harbors wildernesses!