Mistral Wind

by Peter Saint-Andre

In old Provence there is a gale
So powerful they call it master —
A rain- and cloud- and darkness-blaster
That sends all gloom away to sail

Far off across the southern ocean.
This clarity of light and air
Inspires the singers' gai saber:
The artful and extreme devotion

To mastering a joyous form
Of living — for, by giving love
As passion, I can soar above
The human, all-too-human norm.

The mistral wind comes from afar:
It sets both foot and mind to dance
Amidst the swirling world of chance —
To leap up to the highest star.

(cf. The Joyful Learning, Appendix of Songs, §13 "To the Mistral"; Beyond Good and Evil, §260)

Peter Saint-Andre > Writings > Nietzsche