The song of the nightIt is night: now that rises above the voice of fountains. And my soul also is a gushing fountain.It is night: now that awaken all the songs of love. And my soul also is a song of love.There is something in me unappeased and insatiable wants to raise his voice. There is a desire in me to love himself speaks the language of love. I am lightah! if I were night! But this is my loneliness of being surrounded light.Alas! What I'm shadow and darkness! As my thirst j'étancherais the breasts of light!And you, I bless you, little sparkling stars, the sky glow worms! and I would welcome the light you give me.But I live in my own light, I absorb into myself the flames that spring from me.I do not know the joy of those who take, and I often dreamed that flying was a pleasure even greater than taking.My poverty is that my hand never rests to give, my jealousy is to see eyes full of expectation and desire of the night lit.Poverty of all who give! O darkening of my sun! O desire to be desired! O devouring hunger in satiety!They take what I give them, but I'm still in touch with their souls? There is a gulf between giving and taking, and the lowest abyss is the most difficult to fill.A hunger born of my beauty: I want to hurt those that I light, I would like to rob those I packed my present: - so I hunger for wickedness. Withdrawing thehand when the hand is stretched already, hesitating like the cascade, which in its fall still hesitating: - so I hunger for wickedness. Mysuch opulence meditates revenge: such malice born of my solitude.My happiness is to give strength to give death, my virtue was tired of itself and its abundance!giver always in danger of losing modesty: he that still distributes power to distribute, ends up having calluses on the hand and heart.My eyes do not melt into tears over the shame of suppliants; my hand has become too hard for feel the shaking of hands full.Where are the tears from my eyes and down my heart? O solitude of those who donate! O silence of those who shine!Many suns orbit in space desert their light speaks to all that is darkness, - only it's for me they are silent.Alas! Such is the enmity of the light which is bright! Ruthlessly pursues its course.Unjust at heart against all that is bright, cold to the suns - and all the suns pursue their race.similar to the hurricane, suns fly along their route, this is their way. They follow their inexorable will, that is their coldness.Oh! It's you alone, dark and nocturnal creatures who create heat by the light! Oh! It is you who only drink milk with comforting breasts of light!Alas! The ice around me, my hand was burnt to contacts frozen! Alas thirst in me a thirst altered your thirst!Tis night: alas! Why do I need to be light! and thirst for darkness! and loneliness!It is night: now that my desire springs as a source - my desire to want to shout.It is night: now that rises above the voice of fountains. And my soul also is a gushing fountain.It is night: now that awaken all the songs of love. And my soul also is a song of love .-Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Nietzsche - Zarathustra - The song of the night
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