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!

O man! Take heed!
What saith deep midnight’s voice indeed?
‘I slept my sleep —
From deepest dream I’ve woke, and plead:
The world is deep,
And deeper than the day could read.
Deep is its woe —
Joy — deeper still than grief can be:
Woe saith: Hence! Go!
But joys all want eternity —
Want deep, profound eternity!’