Page:Thus Spake Zarathustra - Alexander Tille - 1896.djvu/472

 438 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV

Swoop down on lambs,

Head foremost, greedy,

Longing for lambs,

Angry with all lamb-souls,

In sore anger with whatever gazeth

Virtuous, sheep-like, with curly wool,

Stupid with the benevolence of lamb's milk !

Thus,

Like eagles, like panthers,

Are the poet's longings,

Are thy longings under a thousand masks,

Thou fool ! Thou poet !

Who sawest man As a God and a sheep, To tear the God in man, Like the sheep in man, And to laugh in tearing.

That, that is thy bliss, A panther's and an eagle's bliss, A poet's and a fool's bliss ! When the air hath become clear, And the sickle of the moon, Green between purple reds And envious stealeth along, An enemy unto day, Sweeping her sickle secretly

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