The Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran

by Kahlil Gibran

  Us for an hour, you croak and clamour merrily

  Like the frogs of the water. And when we

  Conquer you and subdue you for an Age, we

  Remain as silent giants.

  You crucified Jesus and stood below Him,

  Blaspheming and mocking at Him; but at last

  He came down and overcame the generations,

  And walked among you as a hero, filling the

  Universe with His glory and His beauty.

  You poisoned Socrates and stoned Paul and

  Destroyed Ali Talib and assassinated

  Madhat Pasha, and yet those immortals are

  With us forever before the face of Eternity.

  But you live in the memory of man like

  Corpses upon the face of the earth; and you

  Cannot find a friend who will bury you in

  The obscurity of non-existence and oblivion,

  Which you sought on earth.

  We are the sons of Sorrow, and sorrow is a

  Rich cloud, showering the multitudes with

  Knowledge and Truth. You are the sons of

  Joy, and as high as your joy may reach,

  By the Law of God it must be destroyed

  Before the winds of heaven and dispersed

  Into nothingness, for it is naught but a

  Thin and wavering pillar of smoke.

  THE HOUSE OF FORTUNE

  MY WEARIED heart bade me farewell and left for the House of Fortune. As he reached that holy city which the soul had blessed and worshipped, he commenced wondering, for he could not find what he had always imagined would be there. The city was empty of power, money, and authority.

  And my heart spoke to the daughter of Love saying, “Oh Love, where can I find Contentment? I heard that she had come here to join you.”

  And the daughter of Love responded, “Contentment has already gone to preach her gospel in the city, where greed and corruption are paramount; we are not in need of her.”

  Fortune craves not Contentment, for it is an earthly hope, and its desires are embraced by union with objects, while Contentment is naught but heartfelt.

  The eternal soul is never contented; it ever seeks exaltation. Then my heart looked upon Life of Beauty and said, “Thou art all knowledge; enlighten me as to the mystery of Woman.” And he answered, “Oh human heart, woman is your own reflection, and whatever you are, she is; wherever you live, she lives; she is like religion if not interpreted by the ignorant, and like a moon, if not veiled with clouds, and like a breeze, if not poisoned with impurities.”

  And my heart walked toward Knowledge, the daughter of Love and Beauty, and said, “Bestow upon me wisdom, that I might share it with the people.” And she responded, “Say not wisdom, but rather fortune, for real fortune comes not from outside, but begins in the Holy of Holies of life. Share of thyself with the people.”

  TWO INFANTS

  A PRINCE stood on the balcony of his palace addressing a great multitude summoned for the occasion and said, “Let me offer you and this whole fortunate country my congratulations upon the birth of a new prince who will carry the name of my noble family, and of whom you will be justly proud. He is the new bearer of a great and illustrious ancestry, and upon him depends the brilliant future of this realm. Sing and be merry!” The voices of the throngs, full of joy and thankfulness, flooded the sky with exhilarating song, welcoming the new tyrant who would affix the yoke of oppression to their necks by ruling the weak with bitter authority, and exploiting their bodies and killing their souls. For that destiny, the people were singing and drinking ecstatically to the health of the new Emir.

  Another child entered life and that kingdom at the same time. While the crowds were glorifying the strong and belittling themselves by singing praise to a potential despot, and while the angels of heaven were weeping over the people’s weakness and servitude, a sick woman was thinking. She lived in an old, deserted hovel and, lying in her hard bed beside her newly-born infant wrapped with ragged swaddles, was starving to death. She was a penurious and miserable young wife neglected by humanity; her husband had fallen into the trap of death set by the prince’s oppression, leaving a solitary woman to whom God had sent, that night, a tiny companion to prevent her from working and sustaining life.

  As the mass dispersed and silence was restored to the vicinity, the wretched woman placed the infant on her lap and looked into his face and wept as if she were to baptize him with tears. And with a hunger-weakened voice she spoke to the child saying, “Why have you left the spiritual world and come to share with me the bitterness of earthly life? Why have you deserted the angels and the spacious firmament and come to this miserable land of humans, filled with agony, oppression, and heartlessness? I have nothing to give you except tears; will you be nourished on tears instead of milk? I have no silk clothes to put on you; will my naked, shivering arms give you warmth? The little animals graze in the pasture and return safely to their shed; and the small birds pick the seeds and sleep placidly between the branches. But you, my beloved, have naught save a loving but destitute mother.”

  Then she took the infant to her withered breast and clasped her arms around him as if wanting to join the two bodies in one, as before. She lifted her burning eyes slowly toward heaven and cried, “God! Have mercy on my unfortunate countrymen!”

  At that moment the clouds floated from the face of the moon, whose beams penetrated the transom of that poor home and fell upon two corpses.

  THE DAY OF MY BIRTH

  IT WAS on this day of the year that my

  Mother brought me into the world; on

  This day, a quarter-century past, the

  Great silence placed me between the arms

  Of Existence, replete with lamentation

  And tears and conflicts.

  Twenty-five times have I encircled the

  Blazing sun, and many times more has the

  Moon encircled my smallness; yet, I have

  Not learned the secrets of light, neither

  Do I comprehend the mystery of darkness.

  I have journeyed these twenty-five years

  With the earth and the sun and the planets

  Through the Supreme Infinite; yet, my soul

  Yearns for understanding of the Eternal Law

  As the hollow grotto reverberates with the

  Echo of the waves of the sea, but never fills.

  Life exists through the existence of the

  Heavenly system, but is not aware of the

  Unbounded might of the firmament; and the

  Soul sings the praise of the ebb and flow

  Of a heavenly melody, but does not perceive

  Its meaning.

  Twenty-five years past, the hand of Time

  Recorded my being, and I am a living page

  In the book of the universe; yet, I am now

  But naught; but a vague word with meaning

  Of complication symbolizing now nothing,

  And then many things.

  Meditations and memories, on this day of

  Each year, congest my soul and halt the

  Procession of life, revealing to me the

  Phantoms of wasted nights, and sweeping

  Them away as the great wind disperses the

  Thin cloud from the horizon. And they

  Vanish in the obscured corner of my hut

  As the murmur of the narrow stream must

  Vanish in the distant, broadened valley.

  On this day of each year, the spirits

  Which have fashioned my soul visit with

  Me from all of Eternity and gather about

  Me, chanting the sorrowful hymns of memories

  Then they retreat swiftly and disappear

  Behind the visible objects like a flock of

  Birds descending upon a deserted threshing

  Floor whereupon they find no seeds; they

  Hover in disappointment and depart quickly

  For a more
rewarding place.

  On this day I meditate upon the past,

  Whose purpose puzzles me in mind and

  Confuses me in heart, and I look

  Upon it as I look into a hazy mirror

  In which I see naught but death-like

  Countenances upon the past years.

  As I gaze again, I see my own self

  Staring upon my sorrowful self, and

  I question Sorrow but find him mute.

  Sorrow, if able to speak, would

  Prove sweeter than the joy of song.

  During my twenty-five years of life

  I have loved many things, and often

  I loved that which the people hated,

  And loathed that which the people

  Loved.

  And that which I loved when I was a

  Child, I still love, and shall continue

  To love forevermore. The power to

  Love is God’s greatest gift to man,

  For it never will be taken from the

  Blessed one who loves.

  I love death, and entitle it with

  Sweet names, and praise it with

  Loving words, secretly and to the

  Throngs of taunting listeners.

  Although I have not renounced my great

  Allegiance to death, I became deeply

  Enamoured with life also, for life and

  Death are equal to me in charm and

  Sweetness and attraction, and they

  Have joined hands in fostering in me

  My longings and affections, and in

  Sharing with me my love and suffering.

  I love freedom, and my love for true

  Freedom grew with my growing knowledge

  Of the people’s surrender to slavery

  And oppression and tyranny, and of

  Their submission to the horrible idols

  Erected by the past ages and polished

  By the parched lips of the slaves.

  But I love those slaves with my love

  For freedom, for they blindly kissed

  The jaws of ferocious beasts in calm

  And blissful unawareness, feeling not

  The venom of the smiling vipers, and

  Unknowingly digging their graves with

  Their own fingers.

  My love for freedom is my greatest love,

  For I have found it to be a lovely

  Maiden, trailed by aloneness and

  Withered by solitude until she became

  As a spectre wandering in the midst

  Of the dwellings unrecognized and

  Unwelcome, and stopping by the waysides

  And calling to the wayfarers who did

  Not offer heed.

  During this score and five years I have

  Loved happiness as all men love happiness.

  I was in constant search of her but did

  Not find her in man’s pathway; nor did

  I observe the imprints of her footsteps

  Upon the sand before man’s palaces;

  Neither did I hear the echo of her voice

  From the windows of man’s temples.

  I sought happiness in my solitude, and

  As I drew close to her I heard my soul

  Whisper into my heart, saying, “The

  Happiness you seek is a virgin, born

  And reared in the depths of each heart,

  And she emerges not from her birthplace.”

  And when I opened my heart to find her,

  I discovered in its domain only her

  Mirror and her cradle and her raiment,

  And happiness was not there.

  I love mankind and I love equally all

  Three human kinds … the one who

  Blasphemes life, the one who blesses

  It, and the one who meditates upon it.

  I love the first for his misery and

  The second for his generosity and the

  Third for his perception and peace.

  Thus, with love, did five and twenty

  Years race into nothingness, and thus

  Swiftly sped the days and the nights,

  Falling from the roadway of my life

  And fluttering away like the drying

  Leaves of the trees before the winds of

  Autumn.

  Today I stopped on my road, like the

  Weary traveler who has not reached his

  Destination but seeks to ascertain his

  Position. I look in every direction, but

  Cannot find trace of any part of my past

  At which I might point and say, “This is

  Mine!”

  Nor can I reap harvest from the seasons

  Of my years, for my bins boast only

  These parchments upon which the black

  Ink is traced, and these paintings,

  Upon which appear simple lines and colours.

  With these papers and pictures I have

  Succeeded only in shrouding and burying

  My love and my thoughts and my dreams,

  Even as the sower buries the seeds in

  The heart of the earth.

  But when the sower sows the seeds in

  The heart of the earth he returns home

  At eventide, hoping and waiting for

  The day of harvest; but I have sown

  The inner seeds of my heart in despair,

  And hoping and waiting are in vain.

  And now, since I have made my five and

  Twenty journeys about the sun, I look

  Upon the past from behind a deep veil

  Of sighs and sorrows, and the silent

  Future enlightens itself to me only

  Through the sad lamp of the past.

  I stare at the universe through the

  Transom of my hut and behold the faces

  Of men, and hear their voices rise into

  Space and hear their footsteps falling

  Into the stones; and I perceive the

  Revelations of their spirits and the

  Vibrations of their desires and the

  Throbbings of their hearts.

  And I see the children, running and

  Laughing and playing and crying; and

  I observe the youth walking with their

  Heads lifted upward as if reading and

  Singing the Kaseeda of youth between

  The margins of their eyes, lined with

  The radiant rays of the sun.

  And I behold the maidens, who are walking

  Gracefully and swaying like tender

  Branches, and smiling like flowers, and

  Gazing upon the youths from behind the

  Quivering eyes of love.

  And I see the aged walking slowly with

  Bent backs, leaning upon their walking

  Staffs, staring at the earth as though

  Seeking there a treasure lost in youth.

  I observe these images and phantoms

  Moving and crawling in the paths and

  Roadways of the city.

  Then I look beyond the city and meditate

  Upon the wilderness and its revered

  Beauty and its speaking silence; its

  Knolls and valleys and lofty trees; its

  Fragrant flowers and brisk brooks and

  Singing birds.

  Then I look beyond the wilderness and

  Contemplate the sea with all the magical

  Wonders and secrets of its depths, and

  The foaming and raging waves of its

  Surface. The depths are calm.

  Then I gaze beyond the ocean and see the

  Infinite sky with its glittering stars;

  And its suns and moons and planets; its

  Gigantic forces and its myriad elements

  That comply unerringly with a great

  Law possessing neither a beginning nor

  An ending.

 
Upon these things I ponder from between

  My walls, forgetting my twenty-five

  Years and all the years which preceded

  Them and all the centuries to come.

  At this moment my own existence and

  All of my environs seem as the weak

  Sigh of a small child trembling in the

  Deep and eternal emptiness of a supreme

  And boundless space.

  But this insignificant entity …

  This self which is myself, and whose

  Motion and clamour I hear constantly,

  Is now lifting strengthening wings

  Toward the spacious firmament,

  Extending hands in all directions,

  Swaying and shivering upon this day

  Which brought me into life, and life

  Into me.

  And then a tremendous voice arises

  From the Holy of Holies within me,

  Saying, “Peace be with you, Life!

  Peace be with you, Awakening!

  Peace be with you, Revelation!

  “Peace be with you, oh Day, who

  Engulfs the darkness of the earth

  With thy brilliant light!

  “Peace be with you, oh Night,

  Through whose darkness the lights

  Of heaven sparkle!

  “Peace be with you, Seasons of the

  Year!

  Peace be with you, Spring, who

  Restores the earth to youth!

  Peace be with you, Summer, who

  Heralds the glory of the sun!

  Peace be with you, Autumn, who

  Gives with joy the fruits of

  Labour and the harvest of toil!

  Peace be with you, Winter, whose

  Rage and tempest restore to

  Nature her sleeping strength!

  “Peace be with you, Years, who

  Reveal what the years concealed!

  Peace be with you, Ages, who

  Build what the ages destroyed!

  Peace be with you, Time, who leads

  Us to the fullness of death!

  Peace be with you, Heart, who

  Throbs in peace while submerged

  In tears!

  Peace be with you, Lips, who

  Utter joyous words of salaam while

  Tasting the gall and the vinegar

  Of life!

  Peace be with you, Soul, who

  Directs the rudder of life and

  Death while hidden from us

  Behind the curtain of the sun!”

  THE CRIMINAL

  A YOUNG man of strong body, weakened by hunger, sat on the walker’s portion of the street stretching his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating the sad song of his defeat in life, while suffering from hunger and from humiliation.