about: torn from every shore

Ah, where else can I climb with my sorrow? From every mountain I search for the lands of my fathers and mothers. But nowhere have I found a homeland: I am restless in every city, and from every gate I long to flee.

Strange and even laughable to me are the people of today; yet not long ago my heart was drawn to them. And so I am cast out from the lands of my fathers and mothers.

Thus I love only the land of my children, still undiscovered, lying in the most distant seas; and I bid my ships seek it out again and again.

In my children I wish to atone for being the son of my fathers; and for all the future — this is my present.

Thus spoke Zarathustra.