One thirsts for her and is not satisfied, one looks through veils, one grasps through nets.
Is she beautiful? What do I know! But the oldest carps are still lured by her.
Changeable is she, and wayward; often have I seen her bite her lip, and pass the comb against the grain of her hair.
Perhaps she is wicked and false, and altogether a woman; but when she speaks ill of herself, just then does she seduce most."
When I had said this to Life, then laughed she maliciously, and shut her eyes. "Of whom do you speak?" said she. "Perhaps of me?
And if you were right- is it proper to say that in such wise to my face! But now, pray, speak also of your Wisdom!"
Ah, and now have you again opened your eyes, O beloved Life! And into the unfathomable have I again seemed to sink.-
Thus sang Zarathustra. But when the dance was over and the maidens had departed, he became sad.
"The sun has been long set," said he at last, "the meadow is damp, and from the forest comes coolness.
An unknown presence is about me, and gazes thoughtfully. What! you live still, Zarathustra?
Why? Wherefore? Whereby? Where? Where? How? Is it not folly still to live?-
Ah, my friends; the evening is it which thus interrogates in me. Forgive me my sadness!
Evening has come on: forgive me that evening has come on!"
Thus sang Zarathustra.
