326 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, III
Until over still, longing seas the boat glideth, the golden wonder, round the gold of which all good, bad, strange things hop
Also many large and small animals, and whatever hath light, strange feet, so that it can run on paths of violet blue.
Until it reacheth the golden wonder, the voluntary boat and its master. But he is the vine-dresser who waiteth with diamond vine-knife
Thy greater liberator, O my soul, the nameless one for whom future songs only will find names ! And, verily, already thy breath smelleth of future songs.
Already thou glowest and dreamest ; already thou drinkest thirstily from all deep, sounding wells of comfort ; already thy melancholy resteth in the bliss of future songs !
O my soul, now I have given thee all, and even my last, and all my hands have been emptied by giving unto thee ! My bidding thee sing, lo, that was the last thing I had !
My bidding thee sing say, say: which of us hath now to thank the other ? But still better : sing unto me, sing, O my soul ! And let me thank ! "
Thus spake Zarathustra.
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