You ask me how I became a madman.
It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born,
I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen
-- the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in seven lives --
I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
"Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves."
Men and women laughed at me
and some ran to their houses in fear of me.
And when I reached the market place,
a youth standing on a house-top cried,
"He is a madman."
I looked up to behold him;
for the first time the sun kissed my own naked face
and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun,
and I wanted my masks no more.
And as if in a trance I cried,
"Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness;
the freedom of loneliness and
the safety from being understood,
for those who understand us enslave something in us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety.
Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.
