45O THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV
May God mend things! Amen !
Breathing this finest air,
My nostrils expanded like cups,
Without a future, without memories,
Here sit I, ye
Sweetest girl-friends,
And look at this palm-tree,
How it, like a dancer,
Boweth and bendeth and swingeth its hips
(One doth the same, if one look at it too long)
Like a dancer, who, (it would seem unto me,)
Too long already, dangerously long,
Had always, always stood on one little leg !
Then so doing she forgot (it would seem unto me)
The other little leg !
At least in vain
Sought I the missing
Twin-jewel
I.e., the other little leg
In the holy nearness
Of her very sweetest, very neatest
Little skirt with its fanning, fluttering, and shining.
Yea, if ye will believe me wholly,
Ye beautiful girl-friends :
She hath lost it !
Hu! hu! hu! hu! hu!
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