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Die Geburt der Tragödie
Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
(1872)

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El Nacimiento de la Tragedia The Birth of Tragedy
11.
Sea lo que sea aquello que esté a la base de este libro problemático: una cuestión de primer rango y máximo atractivo tiene que haber sido, y además una cuestión profundamente personal testimonio de ello es la época en la cual surgió, pese a la cual surgió, la excitante época de la guerra franco- alemana de 1870-1871. Mientras los estampidos de la batalla de Wörth se expandían sobre Europa, el hombre caviloso y amigo de enigmas a quien se le deparó la paternidad de este libro estaba en un rincón cualquiera de los Alpes, muy sumergido en sus cavilaciones y enigmas, en consecuencia muy preocupado y despreocupado a la vez, y redactaba sus pensamientos sobre los griegos, núcleo del libro extraño y difícilmente accesible a que va a estar dedicado este tardío prólogo (o epílogo). Unas semanas más tarde: y también él se encontraba bajo los muros de Metz, no desembarazado aún de los signos de interrogación que había colocado junto a la presunta «jovialidad» de los griegos y junto al arte griego; hasta que por fin, en aquel mes de hondísima tensión en que en Versalles se deliberaba sobre la paz, también él consiguió hacer la paz consigo mismo, y mientras convalecía lentamente de una enfermedad que había contraído en el campo de batalla, comprobó en sí de manera definitiva el «nacimiento de la tragedia en el espíritu de la música».
¿En la música? ¿Música y tragedia? ¿Griegos y música de tragedia? ¿Griegos y la obra de arte del pesimismo? La especie más lograda de hombres habidos hasta ahora, la más bella, la más envidiada, la que más seduce a vivir, los griegos ¿cómo?, ¿es que precisamente ellos tuvieron necesidad de la tragedia?
¿Más aún del arte? ¿Para qué el arte griego?...
Se adivina el lugar en que con estas preguntas quedaba colocado el gran signo de interrogación acerca del valor de la existencia. ¿Es el pesimismo, necesariamente, signo de declive, de ruina, de fracaso, de instintos fatigados y debilitados? ¿como lo fue entre los indios, como lo es, según todas las apariencias, entre nosotros los hombres y europeos «modernos»? ¿Existe un pesimismo de la fortaleza? ¿Una predilección intelectual por las cosas duras, horrendas, malvadas, problemáticas de la existencia, predilección nacida de un bienestar, de una salud desbordante, de una plenitud de la existencia? ¿Se da tal vez un sufrimiento causado por esa misma sobreplenitud? ¿Una tentadora valentía de la más aguda de las miradas, valentía que anhela lo terrible, por considerarlo el enemigo, el digno enemigo en el que poder poner a prueba su fuerza?, ¿en el que ella quiere aprender qué es «el sentir miedo»? ¿Qué significa, justo entre los griegos de la época mejor, más fuerte, más valiente, el mito trágico? ¿Y el fenómeno enorme de lo dionisíaco? ¿Qué significa, nacida de él, la tragedia? Y por otro lado: aquello de que murió la tragedia, el socratismo de la moral, la dialéctica, la suficiencia y la jovialidad del hombre teórico ¿cómo?, ¿no podría ser justo ese socratismo un signo de declive, de fatiga, de enfermedad, de unos instintos que se disuelven de modo anárquico?
¿Y la «jovialidad griega» del helenismo tardío, tan sólo un arrebol de crepúsculo? ¿La voluntad epicúrea contra el pesimismo, tan sólo una precaución del hombre que sufre? Y la ciencia misma, nuestra ciencia sí, ¿qué significa en general, vista como síntoma de vida, toda ciencia? ¿Para qué, peor aún, de dónde toda ciencia? ¿Cómo? ¿Acaso es el cientificismo nada más que un miedo al pesimismo y una escapatoria frente a él? ¿Una defensa sutil obligada contra la verdad? ¿Y hablando en términos morales, algo así como cobardía y falsedad? ¿Hablando en términos no morales, una astucia? Oh
Sócrates, Sócrates, ¿fue ése acaso tu secreto? Oh ironista misterioso, ¿fue ésa acaso tu ironía?


Whatever might have been be the basis for this dubious book, it must have been a question of the utmost importance and charm, as well as a deeply personal one. Testimony to that effect is the time in which it arose
(in spite of which it arose), that disturbing era of the Franco-Prussian war of 1870-71. While the thunderclap of the Battle of Worth was reverberating across Europe, the meditative lover of enigmas whose lot it was to father this book sat somewhere in a corner of the Alps, extremely reflective and perplexed (thus simultaneously very distressed and carefree) and wrote down his thoughts concerning the Greeks, the kernel of that odd and difficult book to which this later preface (or postscript) should be dedicated. A few weeks after that, he found himself under the walls of Metz, still not yet free of the question mark which he had set down beside the alleged "serenity" of the Greeks and of Greek culture, until, in that month of the deepest tension, as peace was being negotiated in Versailles, he finally came to peace with himself and, while slowly recovering from an illness he'd brought back home with him from the field, finished composing the Birth of
Tragedy out of the Spirit of Music. From music? Music and tragedy? The Greeks and the Music of Tragedy? The Greeks and the art work of pessimism? The most successful, most beautiful, most envied people, those with the most encouraging style of life — the Greeks? How can this be? Did they really need tragedy? Even more to the point, did they really need art? And Greek art, what is that, and how did it come about?

One can guess from all this just where the great question mark about the worth of existence was placed. Is pessimism necessarily the sign of collapse, destruction, and disaster, of the exhausted and enfeebled instinct, as it was among the Indians, as it is now, to all appearances, among us "modern" peoples and Europeans? Is there a pessimism of the strong? An intellectual inclination for what in existence is hard, dreadful, angry, and problematic, emerging from what is healthy, from overflowing well being, from living existence to the full? Is there perhaps a way of suffering from the very fullness of life, a tempting courage of the keenest sight which demands what is terrible, like an enemy — a worthy enemy — against which it can test its power, from which it will learn what "to fear" means? What does the tragic myth mean precisely for the Greeks of the best, strongest, and bravest age? What about that tremendous phenomenon of the Dionysian? And what about what was born out of the Dionysian — the tragedy? By contrast, what are we to make of what killed tragedy — Socratic morality, dialectic, the satisfaction and serenity of the theoretical man? Could not this very Socratic way be a sign of collapse, exhaustion, sickness, and the dissolution of the anarchic instinct? And could the "Greek serenity" of later
Greek periods be only a red sunset? Could the Epicurean will hostile to pessimism be merely the prudence of a suffering man? And even scientific enquiry itself, our science — indeed, what does all scientific enquiry in general mean considered as a symptom of life? What is the point of all that science and, even more serious, where did it come from? What about that? Is scientific scholarship perhaps only a fear and an excuse in the face of pessimism, a delicate self-defence against — the Truth? And speaking morally, something like cowardice and falsehood? Speaking unmorally, a clever trick? Oh, Socrates, Socrates, was that perhaps your secret? Oh you secretive ironist, was that perhaps your — irony?



  • angry: When someone is angry, they may want to speak loudly or fight.
  • clever: When someone is clever, they can solve a hard puzzle or problem.
  • finally: If something happens finally, it happens after a longtime or at the end.
  • lot: A lot means a large number or amount of people, animals, things, etc.
  • trick: A trick is something you do to fool another person.
  • well: You use well to say that something was done in a good way.
  • kill: To kill someone or something is to make them die.
  • secret: A secret is something that you do not tell other people.
  • terrible: If something is terrible, it is very bad.
  • among: If you are among certain things, they are all around you.
  • ever: Ever means at any time.
  • concern: Concern is a feeling of worry.
  • field: A field is a big area of land.
  • face: If you face a problem, you deal with it.
  • beside: When someone or something is beside you, they are next to you.
  • harm: Harm is hurt or problems caused to someone or something.
  • peace: Peace is a time without war.
  • contrast: A contrast is the sharp difference between two things.
  • success: Success is doing something well that you choose to do.
  • against: To be against something is to be touching it or opposed to it.
  • perhaps: Perhaps is used when you say that something could happen.
  • still: Still is used when you say that a situation keeps going on.
  • effect: An effect is a change made by something else.
  • sail: To sail is to move a boat on the water.
  • serious: When something is serious, it is bad or unsafe.
  • thin: If someone or something is thin, they are not fat.
  • demand: To demand something is to say strongly that you want it.
  • owe: To owe is to have to pay or give back something received from another.
  • sight: A sight is something interesting to see.
  • suffer: To suffer is to feel pain.
  • across: To go across something is to go to the other side of it.
  • extreme: If something is extreme, it is in a large amount or degree.
  • fear: Fear is the feeling of being afraid.
  • yet: Yet is used to say something has not happened up to now.
  • exist: To exist is to be real.
  • flow: To flow is to move easily and continuously in one direction.
  • solution: A solution is a way to solve a problem.
  • consider: To consider something means to think about it.
  • real: If something is real, it actually exists.
  • reflect: To reflect is when a surface sends back light, heat, sound or an image.
  • war: A war is a big fight between two groups of people.
  • worth: If something is worth an amount of money, it costs that amount.
  • appear: To appear is to seem.
  • later: Later means after the present, expected, or usual time.
  • though: Though is used when the second idea makes the first seem surprising.
  • earn: To earn means to get money for the work you do.
  • set: To set something is to put it somewhere.
  • period: A period is an amount of time when something happens.
  • sign: A sign is a notice giving information, directions, a warning, etc.
  • final: If something is final, it is the last part.
  • false: If something is false, it is not correct.
  • own: To own something means to have it. That thing belongs to you.
  • gain: If you gain something, you get more of it.
  • importance: Importance means the quality or condition of being needed or valued.
  • mean: Mean describes someone who is unkind or cruel.

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