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368 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV
Torturest my pride to pieces ?
Give love unto me ! Who still warmeth me ?
Who still loveth me? Give hot hands, Give heart's coal-pans ! Give me, the loneliest, Who by ice, alas ! by sevenfold ice, Am taught to thirst for enemies, For enemies themselves, Give, yea, give thyself up, Cruellest enemy, Unto me!
��Away !
There he fled himself,
My sole companion,
My great enemy,
Mine unknown one,
My hangman's God ! . . .
Nay!
Come back !
With all thy tortures!
Oh, come back
Unto the last of all lonely ones !
All my tears run
Their course unto thee!
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