In the first section of this chapter, Zarathustra recounts an encounter where he gazes into Life’s eye, seeing gold flashing in its nocturnal depths, which fills him with profound delight. Life appears as an alluring and elusive presence, symbolized by a golden boat glimmering on mighty waters—a boat that sinks, drinks, and beckons again.

Zarathustra describes himself as “dance-mad,” his feet moving irresistibly to Life’s subtle temptations. He follows her through a series of playful and teasing interactions: she casts glances that induce him to dance; she flits away when he approaches; her fleeting touch and the flicker of her hair entice him further. This dance becomes a metaphor for his pursuit of Life, filled with desire and frustration. He oscillates between loving her from afar and fearing her nearness, captivated by her contradictions—her coldness that ignites, her hate that seduces, her flight that binds.

The narrative unfolds with vivid imagery of chasing through caves and thickets. Zarathustra confronts her elusive nature, expressing both admiration and exasperation. He offers to walk gentler paths with her, to rest by the lakeside where goldfish swim and dance. Yet, Life continues to evade him, leaving only traces of her presence. In a moment of vexation, he contemplates asserting control, suggesting that she should dance to the crack of his whip, though he quickly questions this impulse.

In the second section, Life responds to Zarathustra, delicately covering her ears against his harshness. She reminds him that loud noises extinguish delicate thoughts, hinting at the need for tenderness. Life acknowledges their shared existence beyond conventional notions of good and evil, having found their own secluded realm—a metaphorical island and green meadow. She admits to being good to him, possibly too good, attributing this to her jealousy of his wisdom. Life playfully accuses Zarathustra of not being faithful enough, suspecting that he intends to leave her. She references the tolling of a heavy bell at midnight, suggesting that he contemplates departure during these solitary hours.

Zarathustra hesitates but confides a secret to Life, one that remains undisclosed. They share a poignant moment, gazing over the green meadow as the cool evening sets in, and weep together. Zarathustra recognizes that, in this instant, Life is dearer to him than all his accumulated wisdom.

The final section transitions into a rhythmic poem, structured around the counting from one to twelve, akin to the tolling of a clock at midnight. Each number introduces contemplative reflections on existence:

“One!

Oh man! Take heed!

Two!

What does the deep midnight declare?

Three!

‘I slept, I slept—’

Four!

‘From deep dream I have awakened—’

Five!

‘The world is deep,’

Six!

‘And deeper than the day thought.’

Seven!

‘Deep is its pain—’

Eight!

‘Joy—deeper still than heartache:’

Nine!

‘Pain says: Pass away!’

Ten!

‘But all joy wants eternity—’

Eleven!

‘—wants deepest, deep eternity!’

Twelve!”