likeness of my doctrine, so that my dearest ones have to blush for the gifts that I gave them.
Lost are my friends; the hour has come for me to seek my lost ones!-
With these words Zarathustra started up, not however like a person in anguish seeking relief, but rather like a seer and a singer whom the spirit inspires. With amazement did his eagle and serpent gaze upon him: for a coming bliss overspread his countenance like the rosy dawn.
What has happened to me, my animals?- said Zarathustra. Am I not transformed? has not bliss come to me like a whirlwind?
Foolish is my happiness, and foolish things will it speak: it is still too young- so have patience with it!
Wounded am I by my happiness: all sufferers shall be physicians to me!
To my friends can I again go down, and also to my enemies! Zarathustra can again speak and give, and show his best love to his loved ones!
My impatient love overflows in streams,- down towards sunrise and sunset. Out of silent mountains and storms of affliction, rushes my soul into the valleys.
Too long have I longed and looked into the distance. Too long has solitude possessed me: thus have I unlearned to keep silence.
Utterance have I become altogether, and the brawling of a brook from high rocks: downward into the valleys will I hurl my speech.
And let the stream of my love sweep into unfrequented channels! How should a stream not finally find its way to the sea!
