THE GRAVE-SONG 157
come such wounds ? How did my soul rise again from these graves ?
Yea, a thing invulnerable, unburiable is within me; a thing that blasteth rocks; it is called my will. Silently and unchanged it walketh through the years.
It will go its way on my feet, mine old will ; hard-hearted and invulnerable is its sense.
Invulnerable I am at my heel only. There thou still livest and art like thyself, thou most patient one ! Thou hast ever broken through all graves, and dost so still !
fn thee what is unsaved of my youth still liveth. And as life and youth thou sittest hopeful on the yellow ruins of graves.
Yea, thou still art for me the destroyer of all graves ! All hail unto thee, my will ! Only where there are graves are there resurrections."
Thus sang Zarathustra.
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