468 THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA, IV
Hearest thou not, how it familiarly, terribly, heart- ily speaketh unto thee old, deep, deep midnight? man, lose not sight !
��Woe unto me ! Whither is time gone ? Sank I not into deep wells ? The world sleepeth.
Alas ! alas ! The dog howleth, the moon shineth. Rather will I die, die than tell you what my midnight- heart thinketh this moment.
Now I have died. It is gone. Spider, why spinnest thou round me ? Wouldst thou have blood ? Alas ! alas ! The dew falleth, the hour cometh !
The hour when I feel cool and cold, which asketh and asketh and asketh : ' Who hath courage enough ?
Who shall be the master of earth ? Who will say : " Thus shall ye flow, ye great and small streams ! "
The hour approacheth ! O man, thou higher man, lose not sight ! This speech is for fine ears, for thine ears. What saith the deep midnight?
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I am carried away. My soul danceth. Work of the day ! Work of the day ! Who shall be the master of earth ?
The moon is cool, the wind is silent. Alas ! alas ! Have ye hitherto flown high enough ? Ye danced. But ye see, a leg is not a wing.
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