MUSEO ROSENBACH - Zarathustra

L’ultimo uomo / The last man

Face of light, the told me about you, your story is in the echo of the mountains, too high to descend in us.
In your eternal walk there isn't what you're chasing; without a goal life can exist. It completes itself in one day.
Shabby shadow, empty glare of the ego you don't need to understand the force pushing me to seek in the World.
Bright divine essence already is hiding inside whom is living the game of the time in wait of a different dawn.

Il re di ieri / Yesterday king

No, don't continue the walk in neverending roads; you already see in me what my father, God, learnt to you.
Maybe neither you believe to the one who never created you. Love your land, in her womb God will form.

Al di là del bene e del male / Beyond the good and the evil

Ancient boards, divine wills already divided in time the good and the evil.
The man alone far from God cannot build his own moral. Run away from your will.
Under these veils, fake wisdom, the truth is insulted. From the moral that you created nothing will boost.
Blind in the dogma of your faith you lose the choice of freedom. Grey sunset of ancient lights will have the last man.

Superuomo / Super-man

But too many answers confuse an ancient life. Thousand traditions built a wall around me.
Alone and without forces I get lost in my words and perhaps whom I'm looking for always walked behind me...
Here he's born in me, I live the Super-man.

Il tempo delle clessidre / The time of the hourglasses

Degli uomini / About men

Blood, commands, flags, cities, screams of joy, pain... Why?
Like the Autumn the World wants to wither, it offers swords to the sky overriding the loyalty.
It grows up and in time kills its humanity.

Della natura / About nature

Quietness falls over the night, virgin in its mantle.
The World keeps silent and in it anxiety lives again and the fear that the silence with its void reignites,
suspicious and treacherous in the dark.
Terror, pregnant of magic as it is, makes Death's face come back in mind.
I live alone on the contrary in this reality which pulses strong in the race of a star,
sure to be able to set in a sea of tired fountains, in peace.
I believe and I feel: this is freedom, a river, the wind and this life.
Silence is the sung of real poetry. A child will be born tonight: it's me.
My eyes are tired, I feel by now that I will sleep.
The dawn comes from quietness, virgin in its own mantle, it lives and already thrills.

Dell'eterno ritorno / About the eternal return

Strange omens light my never placed doubts. Do I tie my name to life, to death, to glory?
Unfortunately it's destiny that I don't receive any reply, if I really believe in me.
Life you ask me if I served you faithful; in front of death I didn't recline my head.
Neither for glory I made my face scornful or lordly.
I closed with dignity a day.
But in this space where I set down and another day will be born
and Zarathustra will be able to find the same things here.
But how many times again will the same Sun heat myself?
But how many nights again will I sing the same Moon?
I can't anymore look for a way since the same one I will trace.
I die, without hoping that something then will be born something will change.
By now my future is already there,
the road I will know takes where the man stops and where the Eternal Return reigns.