57. LVII. THE CONVALESCENT.
One morning, not long after his return to his cave, Zarathustra sprang up
from his couch like a madman, crying with a frightful voice, and acting as
if some one still lay on the couch who did not wish to rise. Zarathustra's
voice also resounded in such a manner that his animals came to him
frightened, and out of all the neighbouring caves and lurking-places all
the creatures slipped away--flying, fluttering, creeping or leaping,
according to their variety of foot or wing. Zarathustra, however, spake
Up, abysmal thought out of my depth! I am thy cock and morning dawn, thou
overslept reptile: Up! Up! My voice shall soon crow thee awake!
Unbind the fetters of thine ears: listen! For I wish to hear thee! Up!
Up! There is thunder enough to make the very graves listen!
And rub the sleep and all the dimness and blindness out of thine eyes!
Hear me also with thine eyes: my voice is a medicine even for those born
And once thou art awake, then shalt thou ever remain awake. It is not MY
custom to awake great-grandmothers out of their sleep that I may bid them--
Thou stirrest, stretchest thyself, wheezest? Up! Up! Not wheeze, shalt
thou,--but speak unto me! Zarathustra calleth thee, Zarathustra the
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of living, the advocate of suffering, the
advocate of the circuit--thee do I call, my most abysmal thought!
Joy to me! Thou comest,--I hear thee! Mine abyss SPEAKETH, my lowest
depth have I turned over into the light!
Joy to me! Come hither! Give me thy hand--ha! let be! aha!--Disgust,
disgust, disgust--alas to me!