Away with thee, thou blissful hour! With thee hath there come to me an involuntary bliss! Ready for my severest pain do I here stand:⁠—at the wrong time hast thou come!

Away with thee, thou blissful hour! Rather harbour there⁠—with my children! Hasten! and bless them before eventide with my happiness!

There, already approacheth eventide: the sun sinketh. Away⁠—my happiness!⁠—

Thus spake Zarathustra. And he waited for his misfortune the whole night; but he waited in vain. The night remained clear and calm, and happiness itself came nigher and nigher unto him. Towards morning, however, Zarathustra laughed to his heart, and said mockingly: “Happiness runneth after me. That is because I do not run after women. Happiness, however, is a woman.”