-Is the wind not a dog? It whineth, it barketh, it howleth. Ah!
Ah! how she sigheth! how she laugheth, how she wheezeth and panteth,
the midnight!

  How she just now speaketh soberly, this drunken poetess! hath she
perhaps overdrunk her drunkenness? hath she become overawake? doth she
ruminate?

  -Her woe doth she ruminate over, in a dream, the old, deep midnight-
and still more her joy. For joy, although woe be deep, joy is deeper
still than grief can be.

                            9.

  Thou grape-vine! Why dost thou praise me? Have I not cut thee! I
am cruel, thou bleedest-: what meaneth thy praise of my drunken
cruelty?

  "Whatever hath become perfect, everything mature- wanteth to die!"
so sayest thou. Blessed, blessed be the vintner's knife! But
everything immature wanteth to live: alas!

  Woe saith: "Hence! Go! Away, thou woe!" But everything that
suffereth wanteth to live, that it may become mature and lively and
longing,

  -Longing for the further, the higher, the brighter. "I want
heirs," so saith everything that suffereth, "I want children, I do not
want myself,"-

  Joy, however, doth not want heirs, it doth not want children,- joy
wanteth itself, it wanteth eternity, it wanteth recurrence, it wanteth
everything eternally-like-itself.

  Woe saith: "Break, bleed, thou heart! Wander, thou leg! Thou wing,
fly! Onward! upward! thou pain!" Well! Cheer up! O mine old heart: Woe
saith: "Hence! Go!"

                            10.

  Ye higher men, what think ye? Am I a soothsayer? Or a dreamer? Or
a drunkard? Or a dream-reader? Or a midnight-bell?

  Or a drop of dew? Or a fume and fragrance of eternity? Hear ye it
not? Smell ye it not? Just now hath my world become perfect,
midnight is also mid-day,-

  Pain is also a joy, curse is also a blessing, night is also a
sun,- go away! or ye will learn that a sage is also a fool.

  Said ye ever Yea to one joy? O my friends, then said ye Yea also
unto all woe. All things are enlinked, enlaced and enamoured,-

  -Wanted ye ever once to come twice; said ye ever: "Thou pleasest me,
happiness! Instant! Moment!" then wanted ye all to come back again!

  -All anew, all eternal, all enlinked, enlaced and enamoured, Oh,
then did ye love the world,-

  -Ye eternal ones, ye love it eternally and for all time: and also
unto woe do ye say: Hence! Go! but come back! For joys all want-
eternity!

                            11.

  All joy wanteth the eternity of all things, it wanteth honey, it
wanteth lees, it wanteth drunken midnight, it wanteth graves, it
wanteth grave-tears' consolation, it wanteth gilded evening-red-

  -What doth not joy want! it is thirstier, heartier, hungrier, more
frightful, more mysterious, than all woe: it wanteth itself, it biteth
into itself, the ring's will writheth in it,-

  -It wanteth love, it wanteth hate, it is over-rich, it bestoweth, it
throweth away, it beggeth for some one to take from it, it thanketh
the taker, it would fain be hated,-

  -So rich is joy that it thirsteth for woe, for hell, for hate, for
shame, for the lame, for the world,- for this world, Oh, ye know it
indeed!

  Ye higher men, for you doth it long, this joy, this irrepressible,
blessed joy- for your woe, ye failures! For failures, longeth all
eternal joy.

  For joys all want themselves, therefore do they also want grief! O
happiness, O pain! Oh break, thou heart! Ye higher men, do learn it,
that joys want eternity.

  -Joys want the eternity of all things, they want deep, profound
eternity!

                            12.

  Have ye now learned my song? Have ye divined what it would say?
Well! Cheer up! Ye higher men, sing now my roundelay!

  Sing now yourselves the song, the name of which is "Once more,"
the signification of which is "Unto all eternity!"- sing, ye higher
men, Zarathustra's roundelay!