Nur Narr! Nur Dichter! - Friedrich Nietzsche (gelesen)
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Friedrich Nietzsche - Only Fool! Only Poet!
In the fading light of dusk,
when the dew's solace begins
to well down to the earth,
invisible, as well as unheard —
— for the comforter dew slips on delicate footwear as all gentle consolers —
then do you remember, remember, hot heart,
how once you thirsted,
how after heavenly tears and dewdrops,
scorched and weary, you thirsted,
while on yellow grass-paths
wicked evening glances of the sun
ran around you through black trees,
blindingly sunny glow-glances, gladly-hurting.
"Of truth the wooer — You?
so mocked they —
no! only a poet!
an animal, a cunning, preying, stealthy one,
that must lie,
that knowingly, willingly must lie,
lusting after prey,
colorfully masked,
a mask unto itself,
a prey unto itself,
that — of truth the wooer? ...
Only fool! only poet!
Just colorfully speaking,
from fools' masks motley speaking,
climbing about on deceptive word-bridges,
on misleading rainbows
between false heavens rambling, lurking —
only fool! only poet! ...
That— of truth the wooer? ...
Not still, stiff, smooth, cold,
become an image,
a pillar of God,
not set up before temples,
a god's gatekeeper:
no!
hostile to all such statues of virtue,
more at home in any wilderness than in temples,
full of cat's mischief
leaping through every window
swiftly! into every chance,
sniffing for every jungle,
that you in jungles
among coloured-shaggy beasts of prey
would run sinfully sound and beautiful and colorful,
with lusting lips,
blissfully mocking, blissfully hellish, blissfully bloodthirsty,
plundering, prowling, lying would run ...
Or
like the eagle that long,
long gazes fixedly into abysses,
into its abysses ...
— oh, how they now spiral downward,
thereunder, therein,
into ever deeper depths! —
Then,
suddenly,
with straight flight,
with a sharp attack
swoop down lambs,
right down, hot-hungry,
lusting for lambs,
angry with all lamb-souls,
grimly angry with whatever looks
virtuous, sheepish, curly-wooled,
dull, with lambs' milk-goodwill ...
Thus
eagle-like, panther-like,
are the poet's longings,
are your longings under a thousand masks,
you fool! you poet! ...
You that have looked upon man
as god and as sheep —,
to tear the god in man
like the sheep in man
and to laugh in tearing —
this, this is your bliss,
a panther's and eagle's bliss,
a poet's and fool's bliss!" ...
In the fading light of dusk,
when just as the moon's sickle
green, between the purple reds,
and envious creeps,
— of day the enemy,
with every step in secret
the rose hammocks downsickling,
till they sink,
sink down pale in nightfall:
thus I myself once sank,
out of my truth-madness,
out of my day-longings,
weary of day, sick from the light,
— sank downward, eveningward, shadowward,
by one truth burnt and thirsty
— do you still remember, remember, hot heart,
how then you thirsted? —
that I be exiled
from all truth!
Only fool! Only poet!...