I am Zarathustra, the herald of height,

I thunder to valleys, I summon the night.

Not priest, nor prophet, nor servant am I,

But flame on the peak, a voice from the sky.

Behold, I descend with the laughter of fire,

To quicken the will, to sharpen desire.

The shackles of ages I shatter, I break,

A new man must rise from the dust and awake.

The world is unfinished, no law is its end,

It bends and it circles, it calls to transcend.

What once was eternal dissolves into sand,

What once was commanded must yield to the hand.

I teach you the power to carve and create,

To wrestle with chaos, to master your fate.

For man is a bridge, not the goal but the span,

A rope over chasms, a trial of man.

Rise, O will, and dance in the flame,

Burn down the idols, consume every name.

Laugh with the lightning, stride with the storm,

Break every boundary, be born and transform.

The circle returns, the song is the same,

Yet higher, yet harder, yet fiercer the flame.

O Overman rising, O dancer of light,

Through struggle and strife you ascend into height.

“To affirm life is to kiss the serpent that coils around your neck.”

The herd hoards its comfort, it clings to its norm,

It quails at the fire, it trembles at storm.

They murmur of virtue, of duty, of peace,

But their virtue is weakness, their duty decease.

I spit on their idols, I laugh at their chains,

I trample their temples, I scorch their domains.

The spirit must fracture, the spirit must fight,

To summon the sunrise, bleed deep through the night.

All things return, the river recedes,

Yet flows back again with identical seeds.

Would you embrace it, would you proclaim,

“Yes, once more, and forever the same”?

This is the trial, the weight of the star,

To love your own life, to affirm what you are.

To say to the circle, “I choose you again,

With sorrow and joy, with fire and pain.”

“What you overcome becomes your marrow; what you flee becomes your master.”

The camel bears burden, the lion must roar,

But the child makes play, and the circle restores.

In laughter untamed, in innocence wild,

The spirit is crowned in the heart of the child.

Not bound by the past, not chained to regret,

The dawn is eternal, the sun never set.

Through wonder, through power, through peril, through flame,

The Overman rises, reborn without shame.

Rise, O will, and dance in the flame,

Burn down the idols, consume every name.

Laugh with the lightning, stride with the storm,

Break every boundary, be born and transform.

O Zarathustra, the herald, the seer,

I sing of the Overman, rising sincere.

Not worship, but laughter, not faith, but the will,

The circle eternal, the dancer is still.

Thus have I spoken, thus thunder has sung,

The burden is heavy, but brave be the young.

Through torment, through triumph, through laughter, through strife,

Affirm your recurrence, and dance into life.

Thus Sang Zarathustra !