In this passage, Zarathustra reflects on his experiences during winter. He describes winter as a “terrible guest” whose presence causes his hands to turn blue from the handshake of friendship. Despite acknowledging and honoring this harsh visitor, Zarathustra prefers to leave him alone, finding solace and warmth by moving swiftly to the sunny corner of his own “Mount of Olives”.

Zarathustra humorously appreciates winter’s ability to keep away flies and silence minor disturbances at home. He notes that winter does not tolerate even the slightest noise, such as the singing of a mosquito, and creates an emptiness in the streets that even moonlight fears at night. He contrasts his own attitude with those who worship comforting idols, emphasizing his preference for enduring hardship over seeking false warmth.

The narrative continues with Zarathustra expressing a fondness for winter’s challenges, suggesting that he loves those he cares for more in winter than in summer. He takes pleasure in mocking his enemies more heartily and even finds joy when retreating to bed, where his hidden happiness and “lying dream” amuse him. He declares that he has never crawled before the powerful and only lied out of love, which is why he remains content even in his winter bed.

Zarathustra takes pride in his poverty, stating that a modest bed warms him more than a luxurious one. Each day begins with a touch of mischief as he mocks winter by taking a cold bath, causing his stern houseguest to grumble. He playfully teases winter with a small wax candle to coax the bright sky out of the ashen twilight. Particularly mischievous in the mornings, he eagerly awaits the unveiling of the “snow-bearded winter sky,” the silent old man who often keeps his sun hidden.

He ponders whether he learned the art of prolonged, bright silence from the winter sky or vice versa, suggesting that the origin of all good things is manifold. Zarathustra compares himself to the silent winter sky, concealing his sun and inflexible will, mastering the craft of not betraying himself through silence. He distracts observers with words and dice, eluding those who watch his every move, ensuring that no one discerns his deepest intentions.

Zarathustra remarks on those who veil their faces and muddy their waters to prevent others from seeing through them, only to attract clever skeptics who uncover their secrets. In contrast, he praises the transparent and upright individuals whose depths remain concealed even in the clearest water. He likens himself to the snow-bearded silent winter sky, a celestial metaphor for his soul and its playful nature.

He feels compelled to hide himself like someone who has swallowed gold to avoid having his soul dissected. Surrounded by smoky, confined, and embittered souls, he wonders how they could bear his happiness. Therefore, he reveals only the ice and winter on his peaks, not the sun belts that encircle his mountain.

Zarathustra permits them to hear him shiver and sigh from the cold, using such expressions to escape their heated rooms. While they pity him for his frostbites, fearing he might freeze “at the ice of knowledge,” he meanwhile runs with warm feet across his Mount of Olives. In the sunny corner of his mountain, he sings and mocks all compassion.