我是 tī 戇人 hām 死體中間

7.

Chit-sî, thiⁿ í-keng sī hông-hun, chhī-tiûⁿ tà tī àm-phú tang-tiong. Lâng-tīn sòaⁿ-khì, in-ūi sīm-chì hòⁿ-kî a̍h khióng-pò͘ mā ē ià-siān. M̄-koh, Zarathustra iáu sī chē tī hit-ê sí-lâng sin-piⁿ ê thô͘-kha, chhim-chhim teh siūⁿ: chū án-ne i bē kì-tit sî-kan. Chòe-āu, í-keng sī àm-mê, chi̍t-chūn léng-hong chhoe kòe chit-ê ko͘-toaⁿ ê lâng. Bóe-chhiú, Zarathustra khiā khí-lâi, tùi ka-tī ê sim kóng:

Kóng si̍t-chāi, Zarathustra kin-á-ji̍t ê lia̍h-hî siu-sêng bē bái! I bô lia̍h tio̍h lâng, sī lia̍h tio̍h sí-thé.

Jîn-seng chin ut-chut, iū-koh bô ì-gī: chi̍t-ê thiú-á tō khó-lêng tì-miā.

Góa boeh kà jîn-lūi chûn-chāi ê ì-gī, he tō sī Chhiau-jîn, sī chhut chū o͘-hûn (lâng) ê sih-nah.

M̄-koh, góa lī in chin hn̄g, góa ê ì-sek kóng bē ji̍p in ê ì-sek. Chāi in khòaⁿ, góa sī tī gōng-lâng hām sí-thé tiong-kan.

Hit-mê chin o͘-àm, Zarathustra ê lō͘-tô͘ chin o͘-àm. Lâi, lí chit-ê léng koh ngē ê tông-phōaⁿ! Góa giâ lí kàu góa boeh chhin-chhiú tâi lí ê só͘-chāi.

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7.

這時, 天 í-keng 是黃昏, 市場罩 tī 暗殕當中. 人陣散去, 因為甚至好奇 a̍h 恐怖 mā ē 厭僐. M̄-koh, Zarathustra 猶是坐 tī 彼个死人身邊 ê 塗跤, 深深 teh 想: 自 án-ne 伊袂記得時間. 最後, 已經是暗暝, 一陣冷風吹過這个孤單 ê 人. 尾手, Zarathustra 徛起來, tùi ka-tī ê 心講:

講實在, Zarathustra 今仔日 ê 掠魚收成 bē 䆀! 伊無掠著人, 是掠著死體.

人生真鬱卒, iū-koh 無意義: 一个丑仔 tō 可能致命.

我欲教人類存在 ê 意義, he tō 是超人, 是出自烏雲 (人) ê sih-nah.

M̄-koh, 我離 in 真遠, 我 ê 意識講 bē 入 in ê 意識. 在 in 看, 我是 tī 戇人 hām 死體中間.

Hit 暝真烏暗, Zarathustra ê 路途真烏暗. 來, 你這个冷 koh 硬 ê 同伴! 我夯你到我欲親手埋你 ê 所在.

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7

Meanwhile the evening came on, and the market-place veiled itself in gloom. Then the people dispersed, for even curiosity and terror become fatigued. Zarathustra, however, still sat beside the dead man on the ground, absorbed in thought: so he forgot the time. But at last it became night, and a cold wind blew upon the lonely one. Then arose Zarathustra and said to his heart:

Verily, a fine catch of fish hath Zarathustra made to-day! It is not a man he hath caught, but a corpse.

Sombre is human life, and as yet without meaning: a buffoon may be fateful to it.

I want to teach men the sense of their existence, which is the Superman, the lightning out of the dark cloud—man.

But still am I far from them, and my sense speaketh not unto their sense. To men I am still something between a fool and a corpse.

Gloomy is the night, gloomy are the ways of Zarathustra. Come, thou cold and stiff companion! I carry thee to the place where I shall bury thee with mine own hands.

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