Up, abysmal thought, out of my depths! I am your rooster and dawn, you sleepy worm: Up! Up! My voice will yet crow you awake!
Unsnap the straps of your ears: listen! Because I want to hear you! Up! Up! Here there is thunder enough to make even graves learn to listen!
And wipe the sleep and all that befogs and blinds you from your eyes! Hear me with your eyes too: my voice is a remedy even for those born blind.
And once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally. It is not my manner to wake great-grandmothers from their sleep only to tell them — go back to sleep!
You stir, you stretch, you gasp? Up! Up! No gasping — you will speak to me! Zarathustra summons you, the godless one!
I, Zarathustra, the advocate of life, the advocate of suffering, the advocate of the circle — you I summon, my most abysmal thought!
Hail to me! You are coming – I hear you! My abyss speaks, I have unfolded my ultimate depth to the light!
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