Page:Thus Spake Zarathustra - Alexander Tille - 1896.djvu/399

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THE WIZARD 365

Stretched out, shivering,

Like one half dead whose feet are warmed,

Shaken, alas ! by unknown fevers,

Trembling from the icy, pointed arrows of

frost,

Hunted, thought, by thee! Unutterable ! Veiled ! Horrid one !

Thou huntsman behind the clouds ! Struck to the ground by thee, Thou mocking eye that gazeth at me from

the dark ! Thus I lie,

Bend, writhe, tortured By all eternal tortures,

Smitten

By thee, cruellest of huntsmen, Thou unknown God . . .

Smite harder!

Smite once more !

Sting, break to pieces this heart !

What meaneth this torturing

With its blunt-toothed arrows?

Why gazest thou again,

Never weary of human pain,

With the malicious lightening eyes of a God?

Thou wilt not kill,

Only torture, torture ?

�� �