OF POETS igl
And when feeling amorous emotions, the poets ever think that nature herself is in love with them.
And that she stealeth unto their ear, to whisper into it secret things and love-flatteries, of that they boast, and in it they take their pride in the presence of all mortals !
Alas, there are so many things between heaven and earth of which poets only have dreamt !
And chiefly above heaven. For all Gods are a simile of poets, an imposition by poets !
Verily, we are always drawn upwards namely tnto the kingdom of clouds. On these we place our coloured dolls and call them Gods and beyond-men.
For they are just light enough for such chairs all these Gods and beyond-men !
Alas, how weary I am of all the inadequate things which are obstinately maintained to be actuality! Alas, how weary I am of poets ! "
Zarathustra so saying, his disciple was angry with him but was silent. And Zarathustra was silent also ; and his eye had turned inwards, as though he gazed into far distances. At last he sighed and took breath.
Then he said : " I am of to-day and of the past ; but something is within me that is of to-morrow and the day after to-morrow and the far future.
I became weary of poets, of the old and of the new. Superficial all of them are, and shallow seas.
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