Thereupon the man from the hills paid two silver pieces and entered the shop to see the statue that he himself had sold for one spice of silver.
THE EXCHANGE
Once upon a crossroad a poor Poet met a rich Stupid, and they conversed. And all that they said revealed but their discontent.
Then the Angel of the Road passed by, and he laid his hand upon the shoulder of the two men.
And behold, a miracle: The two men had now exchanged their possessions.
And they parted. But strange to relate, the Poet looked and found naught in his hand but dry moving sand; and the Stupid closed his eyes and felt naught but moving cloud in his heart.
LOVE AND HATE
A woman said unto a man, “I love you.” And the man said, “It is in my heart to be worthy of your love.”
Ant he woman said, “You love me not?”
And the man only gazed upon her and said nothing.
Then the woman cried aloud, “I hate you.”
And the man said, “Then it is also in my heart to be worthy of your hate.”
DREAMS
A man dreamed a dream, and when he awoke he went to his soothsayer and desired that his dream be made plain unto him.
And the soothsayer said to the man, “Come to me with the dreams that you behold in your wakefulness and I will tell you their meaning. But the dreams of your sleep belong neither to my wisdom nor to your imagination.”
THE MADMAN
It was in the garden of a madhouse that I met a youth with a face pale and lovely and full of wonder. And I sat beside him upon the bench, and I said, “Why are you here?”
And he looked at me in astonishment, and he said, “It is an unseemly question, yet I will answer you. My father would make of me a reproduction of himself; so also would my uncle. My mother would have me the image of her seafaring husband as the perfect example for me to follow. My brother thinks I should be like him, a fine athlete.
“And my teachers also, the doctor of philosophy, and the music-master, and the logician, they too were determined, and each would have me but a reflection of his own face in a mirror.
“Therefore I came to this place. I find it more sane here. At least, I can be myself.”
Then of a sudden he turned to me and he said, “But tell me, were you also driven to this place by education and good counsel?”
And I answered, “No, I am a visitor.”
And he answered, “Oh, you are one of those who live in the madhouse on the other side of the wall.”
THE FROGS
Upon a summer day a frog said to his mate, “I fear those people living in that house on the shore are disturbed by our night-songs.”
And his mate answered and said, “Well, do they not annoy our silence during the day with their talking?”
The frog said, “Let us not forget that we may sing too much in the night.”
And his mate answered, “Let us not forget that they chatter and shout overmuch during the day.”
Said the frog, “How about the bullfrog who that they clatter and shout overmuch during the day.”
Said the frog, “How about the bullfrog who disturbs the whole neighbourhood with his God-forbidden booming?”
And his mate replied, “Aye, and what say you of the politician and the priest and the scientist who come to these shores and fill the air with noisy and rhymeless sound?”
Then the frog said, “Well, let us be better than these human beings. Let us be quiet at night, and keep our songs in our hearts, even though the moon calls for our rhythm and the stars for our rhyme. At least, let us be silent for a night or two, or even for three nights.”
And his mate said, “Very well, I agree. We shall see what your bountiful heart will bring forth.”
That night the frogs were silent; and they were silent the following night also, and again upon the third night.
And strange to relate, the talkative woman who lived in the house beside the lake came down to breakfast on that third day and shouted to her husband, “I have not slept these three nights. I was secure with sleep when the noise of the frogs was in my ear. But something must have happened. They have not sung now for three nights; and I am almost maddened with sleeplessness.”
The frog heard this and turned to his mate and said, winking his eye, “And we were almost maddened with our silence, were we not?”
And his mate answered, “Yes, the silence of the night was heavy upon us. And I can see now that there is no need for us to cease our singing for the comfort of those who must needs fill their emptiness with noise.”
And that night the moon called not in vain for their rhythm nor the stars for their rhyme.
LAWS AND LAW-GIVING
Ages ago there was a great king, and he was wise. And he desired to lay laws unto his subjects.
He called upon one thousand wise men of one thousand different tribes to his capitol and lay down the laws.
And all this came to pass.
But when the thousand laws written upon parchment were put before the king and he read them, he wept bitterly in his soul, for he had not known that there were one thousand forms of crime in his kingdom.
Then he called his scribe, and with a smile upon his mouth he himself dictated laws. And his laws were but seven.
And the one thousand wise men left him in anger and returned to their tribes with the laws they had laid down. And every tribe followed the laws of its wise men.
Therefore they have a thousand laws even to our own day.
It is a great country, but it has one thousand prisons, and the prisons are full of women and men, breakers of a thousand laws.
It is indeed a great country, but the people thereof are descendants of one thousand law-givers and of only one wise king.
YESTERDAY, TODAY AND TOMORROW
I said to my friend, “You see her leaning upon the arm of that man. It was but yesterday that she leaned thus upon my arm.”
And my friend said, “And tomorrow she will lean upon mine.”
I said, “Behold her sitting close at his side. It was but yesterday she sat close beside me.”
And he answered, “Tomorrow she will sit beside me.”
I said, “See, she drinks wine from his cup, and yesterday she drank from mine.”
And he said, “Tomorrow, from my cup.”
Then I said, “See how she gazes at him with love, and with yielding eyes. Yesterday she gazed thus upon me.”
And my friend said, “It will be upon me she gazes tomorrow.”
I said, “Do you not hear her now murmuring songs of love into his ears? Those very songs of love she murmured but yesterday into my ears.”
And my friend said, “And tomorrow she will murmur them in mine.”
I said, “Why see, she is embracing him. It was but yesterday that she embraced me.”
And my friend said, “She will embrace me tomorrow.”
Then I said, “What a strange woman.”
But he answered, “She is like unto life, possessed by all men; and like death, she conquers all men; and like eternity, she enfolds all men.”
THE PHILOSOPHER AND THE COBBLER
There came to a cobbler’s shop a philosopher with worn shoes. And the philosopher said to the cobbler, “Please mend my shoes.”
And the cobbler said, “I am mending another man’s shoes now, and there are still other shoes to patch before I can come to yours. But leave your shoes here, and wear this other pair today, and come tomorrow for your own.”
Then the philosopher was indignant, and he said, “I wear no shoes that are not mine own.”
And the cobbler said, “Well then, are you in truth a philosopher, and cannot enfold your feet with the shoes of another man? Upon this very street there is another cobbler who understands philosophers better than I do. Go you to him for mending.”
BUILDERS OF BRIDGES
In Antioch where the river Assi goes to meet the sea, a bridge was built to bring one half of the city n
earer to the other half. It was built of large stones carried down from among the hills, on the backs of the mules of Antioch.
When the bridge was finished, upon a pillar thereof was engraved in Greek and in Aramaic, “This bridge was builded by King Antiochus II.”
And all the people walked across the good bridge over the goodly river Assi.
And upon an evening, a youth, deemed by some a little mad, descended to the pillar where the words were engraven, and he covered over the graving with charcoal, and above it wrote, “The stones of this bridge were brought down from the hills by the mules. In passing to and fro over it you are riding upon the backs of the mules of Antioch, builders of this bridge.”
And when the people read what the youth had written, some of them laughed and some marvelled. And some said, “Ah yes, we know who has done this. Is he not a little mad?”
But one mule said, laughing, to another mule, “Do you not remember that we did carry those stones? And yet until now it has been said that the bridge was builded by King Antiochus.”
THE FIELD OF ZAAD
Upon the road of Zaad a traveller met a man who lived in a nearby village, and the traveller, pointing with his hand to a vast field, asked the man saying, “Was not this the battle-ground where King Ahlam overcame his enemies?”
And the man answered and said, “This has never been a battle-ground. There once stood on this field the great city of Zaad, and it was burnt down to ashes. But now it is a good field, is it not?”
And the traveller and the man parted.
Not a half mile farther the traveller met another man, and pointing to the field again, he said, “So that is where the great city of Zaad once stood?’
And the man said, “There has never been a city in this place. But once there was a monastery here, and it was destroyed by the people of the South Country.”
Shortly after, on that very road of Zaad, the traveller met a third man, and pointing once more to the vast field he said, “Is it not true that this is the place where once there stood a great monastery?”
But the man answered, “There has never been a monastery in this neighbourhood, but our fathers and our forefathers have told us that once there fell a great meteor on this field.”
Then the traveller walked on, wondering in his heart. And he met a very old man, and saluting his he said, “Sir, upon this road I have met three men who live in the neighbourhood and I have asked each of them about this field, and each one denied what the other had said, and each one told me a new tale that the other had not told.”
Then the old man raised his head, and answered, “My friend, each and every one of these men told you what was indeed so; but few of us are able to add fact to different fact and make a truth thereof.”
THE GOLDEN BELT
Once upon a day two men who met on the road were walking together toward Salamis, the City of Columns. In the mid-afternoon they came to a wide river and there was no bridge to cross it. They must needs swim, or seek another road unknown to them.
And they said to one another, “Let us swim. After all, the river is not so wide.” And they threw themselves into the water and swam.
And one of the men who had always known rivers and the ways of rivers, in mid-stream suddenly began to lose himself; and to be carried away by the rushing waters; while the other who had never swum before crossed the river straight-way and stood upon the farther bank. Then seeing his companion still wrestling with the stream, he threw himself again into the waters and brought him also safely to the shore.
And the man who had been swept away by the current said, “But you told me you could not swim. How then did you cross that river with such assurance?”
And the second man answered, “My friend, do you see this belt which girdles me? It is full of golden coins that I have earned for my wife and my children, a full year’s work. It is the weight of this belt of gold that carried me across the river, to my wife and my children. And my wife and my children were upon my shoulders as I swam.”
And the two men walked on together toward Salamis.
THE RED EARTH
Said a tree to a man, “My roots are in the deep red earth, and I shall give you of my fruit.”
And the man said to the tree, “How alike we are. My roots are also deep in the red earth. And the red earth gives you power to bestow upon me of your fruit, and the red earth teaches me to receive from you with thanksgiving.”
THE FULL MOON
The full moon rose in glory upon the town, and all the dogs of that town began to bark at the moon.
Only one dog did not bark, and he said to them in a grave voice, “Awake not stillness from her sleep, nor bring you the moon to the earth with your barking.”
Then all the dogs ceased barking, in awful silence. But the dog who had spoken to them continued barking for silence, the rest of the night.
THE HERMIT PROPHET
Once there lived a hermit prophet, and thrice a moon he would go down to the great city and in the market places he would preach giving and sharing to the people. And he was eloquent, and his fame was upon the land.
Upon an evening three men came to his hermitage and he greeted them. And they said, “You have been preaching giving and sharing, and you have sought to teach those who have much to give unto those who have little; and we doubt not that your fame has brought you riches. Now come and give us of your riches, for we are in need.”
And the hermit answered and said, “My friends, I have naught but this bed and this mat and this jug of water. Take them if it is in your desire. I have neither gold nor silver.”
Then they looked down with distain upon him, and turned their faces from him, and the last man stood at the door for a moment, and said, “Oh, you cheat! You fraud! You teach and preach that which you yourself do not perform.”
THE OLD, OLD WINE
Once there lived a rich man who was justly proud of his cellar and the wine therein. And there was one jug of ancient vintage kept for some occasion known only to himself.
The governor of the state visited him, and he bethought him and said, “That jug shall not be opened for a mere governor.”
And a bishop of the diocese visited him, but he said to himself, “Nay, I will not open that jug. He would not know its value, nor would its aroma reach his nostrils.”
The prince of the realm came and supped with him. But he thought, “It is too royal a wine for a mere princeling.”
And even on the day when his own nephew was married, he said to himself, “No, not to these guests shall that jug be brought forth.”
And the years passed by, and he died, an old man, and he was buried like unto every seed and acorn.
And upon the day that he was buried the ancient jug was brought out together with other jugs of wine, and it was shared by the peasants of the neighbourhood. And none knew its great age.
To them, all that is poured into a cup is only wine.
THE TWO POEMS
Many centuries ago, on a road to Athens, two poets met, and they were glad to see one another.
And one poet asked the other saying, “What have you composed of late, and how goes it with your lyre?”
And the other poet answered and said with pride, “I have but now finished the greatest of my poems, perchance the greatest poem yet written in Greek. It is an invocation to Zeus the Supreme.”
Then he took from beneath his cloak a parchment, saying, “Here, behold, I have it with me, and I would fain read it to you. Come, let us sit in the shade of that white cypress.”
And the poet read his poem. And it was a long poem.
And the other poet said in kindliness, “This is a great poem. It will live through the ages, and in it you shall be glorified.”
And the first poet said calmly, “And what have you been writing these late days?”
And the other another, “I have written but little. Only eight lines in remembrance of a child playing in a garden.” And he recited the lines.
/> The first poet said, “Not so bad; not so bad.”
And they parted.
And now after two thousand years the eight lines of the one poet are read in every tongue, and are loved and cherished.
And though the other poem has indeed come down through the ages in libraries and in the cells of scholars, and though it is remembered, it is neither loved nor read.
LADY RUTH
Three men once looked from afar upon a white house that stood alone on a green hill. One of them said, “That is the house of Lady Ruth. She is an old witch.”
The second man said, “You are wrong. Lady Ruth is a beautiful woman who lives there consecrated unto her dreams.”
The third man said, “You are both wrong. Lady Ruth is the holder of this vast land, and she draws blood from her serfs.”
And they walked on discussing Lady Ruth. Then when they came to a crossroad they met an old man, and one of them asked him, saying, “Would you please tell us about the Lady Ruth who lives in that white house upon the hill?”
And the old man raised his head and smiled upon them, and said, “I am ninety of years, and I remember Lady Ruth when I was but a boy. But Lady Ruth died eighty years ago, and now the house is empty. The owls hoot therein, sometimes, and people say the place is haunted.”
THE MOUSE AND THE CAT
Collected Poetical Works of Kahlil Gibran Page 27
