Whoever tends to descend here,
How quickly
The depths swallow them! —
But you, Zarathustra,
Still love the abyss —
Do you, just as the spruce?
Its roots shoot down, where
The rock itself tremors
Gazing into the depths —
It tarries at abysses,
Where everything around
Tends to fall:
Amid the impatience
Of the rough boulders and torrential streams
Patiently enduring, firm, silent,
Solitary ...
Solitary!
Who would even venture
To be a guest here,
To be your guest? ...
A bird of prey perhaps:
who might well hang,
the steadfast patient sufferer,
Gloating delightfully in its coat,
With mad laughter,
A bird of prey's laughter ...
How quickly
The depths swallow them! —
But you, Zarathustra,
Still love the abyss —
Do you, just as the spruce?
Its roots shoot down, where
The rock itself tremors
Gazing into the depths —
It tarries at abysses,
Where everything around
Tends to fall:
Amid the impatience
Of the rough boulders and torrential streams
Patiently enduring, firm, silent,
Solitary ...
Solitary!
Who would even venture
To be a guest here,
To be your guest? ...
A bird of prey perhaps:
who might well hang,
the steadfast patient sufferer,
Gloating delightfully in its coat,
With mad laughter,
A bird of prey's laughter ...
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