The drunken song (midnight)

Meanwhile one after another had gone out into the open air, and into the cool, thoughtful night; Zarathustra himself, however, led the ugliest man by the hand, that he might show him his night-world, and the great round…

Outside in the night, the ugliest man asks whether they too would say 'Once more' to death for Zarathustra's sake. The higher men rush to honour Zarathustra, and the soothsayer dances.

‘Was THAT—life?’ will I say unto death.

The ugliest man says he would greet death with 'Well! Once more!'

When, however, this took place with the ugliest man, Zarathustra stood there like one drunken: his glance dulled, his tongue faltered and his feet staggered. And who could divine what thoughts then passed through…

Zarathustra stands as if drunken, then hears something and three times bids all be still and listen. A clock-bell sounds and he says: let us wander into the night.

Ye higher men, it is getting on to midnight: then will I say something into your ears, as that old clock-bell saith it into mine ear,— —As mysteriously, as frightfully, and as cordially as that midnight clock-bell…

In a mysterious, dreamlike speech Zarathustra echoes the bell: the world sleeps, the hour asks who will master the world, and the sepulchres mutter. He declares 'the world is deep'.

Sweet lyre! Sweet lyre! I love thy tone, thy drunken, ranunculine tone!—how long, how far hath come unto me thy tone, from the distance, from the ponds of love! Thou old clock-bell, thou sweet lyre! Every pain hath torn…

The old bell and lyre speak of past pain ripened like autumn grapes. The world's drunken midnight happiness is deeper than the day could read.

Leave me alone! Leave me alone! I am too pure for thee. Touch me not! Hath not my world just now become perfect? My skin is too pure for thy hands. Leave me alone, thou dull, doltish, stupid day! Is not the midnight…

Zarathustra turns away the coarse day and world, saying the purest, midnight-souls shall master the world. He calls himself a midnight-lyre that none understands, and says joy is deeper than grief.

For joy, although woe be deep, JOY IS DEEPER STILL THAN GRIEF CAN BE.

Zarathustra states that joy is deeper than woe.

Joy, however, doth not want heirs, it doth not want children,—joy wanteth itself, it wanteth eternity, it wanteth recurrence, it wanteth everything eternally-like-itself.

Speaking to the vine, Zarathustra contrasts suffering, which wants to pass on to heirs and be gone, with joy, which wants itself and recurrence.

Said ye ever Yea to one joy? O my friends, then said ye Yea also unto ALL woe.

Zarathustra says midnight is also midday, pain also joy, curse also blessing. He argues that whoever wanted one moment to return wanted everything to return.

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!…

Joy is richer and more frightful than woe. It wants everything, even grief and this world, and the higher men must learn that joys want deep, profound eternity.

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…

Zarathustra asks the higher men to sing his roundelay, then gives the verse: the world is deep, joy is deeper than grief, and joys all want eternity.