OF THE COUNTRY OF CULTURE 169
For thus ye speak: 'We are wholly real and without any belief or superstition.' Thus ye give yourselves airs alas, even without having any breasts !
Oh, how could ye believe, ye many-coloured ye who are pictures of whatever hath been believed at any time!
Ye are yourselves living refutations of belief and a breaking of limbs of all thought. Untrustworthy thus I call you, ye real !
All times rave against each other in your minds; aitd the dreams and gossip of all times have been more real than your being awake !
Sterile ye are. Therefore faith is lacking within you. But he who was compelled to create had always his prophesying dreams and prognostics in the stars and believed in belief !
Half-open doors ye are at which grave-diggers wait. And this is your reality : ' Everything deserveth to perish.'
Oh, how ye appear unto me, ye sterile, how meagre in your ribs! And many of you knew that perfectly.
And they said : ' Whilst I was sleeping, a God, I suppose, clandestinely stole something from me ? Verily, enough to form a little woman out of it ! '
' Wonderful is the poverty of my ribs ! ' thus said many present ones.
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