* * *
Death murmured, “You are not rich, but pitifully poor.” Then Death took the hand of that earthly slave, removed his reality, and gave to the angels the heavy task of correction.
* * *
And Death walked slowly amidst the dwellings of the poor until he reached the most miserable he could find. He entered and approached a bed upon which a youth slept fitfully. Death touched his eyes; the lad sprang up as he saw Death standing by, and, with a voice full of love and hope he said, “Here I am, my beautiful Death. Accept my soul, for you are the hope of my dreams. Be their accomplishment! Embrace me, oh beloved Death! You are merciful; do not leave me. You are God’s messenger; deliver me to Him. You are the right hand of Truth and the heart of Kindness; do not neglect me.
* * *
“I have begged for you many times, but you did not come; I have sought you, but you avoided me; I called out to you, but you listened not. You hear me now – embrace my soul, beloved Death!”
* * *
Death placed his softened hand upon the trembling lips, removed all reality, and enfolded it beneath his wings for secure conduct. And returning to the sky, Death looked back and whispered his warning :
* * *
“Only those return to Eternity. Who on earth seek out Eternity.”
Yesterday And Today
The gold-hoarder walked in his palace park and with him walked his troubles. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reached a beautiful lake surrounded by magnificent marble statuary. He sat there pondering the water which poured from the mouths of the statues like thoughts flowing freely from a lover’s imagination, and contemplating heavily his palace which stood upon a knoll like a birth-mark upon the cheek of a maiden. His fancy revealed to him the pages of his life’s drama which he read with falling tears that veiled his eyes and prevented him from viewing man’s feeble additions to Nature. He looked back with piercing regret to the images of his early life, woven into pattern by the gods, until he could no longer control his anguish. He said aloud, “Yesterday I was grazing my sheep in the green valley, enjoying my existence, sounding my flute, and holding my head high. Today I am a prisoner of greed. Gold leads into gold, then into restlessness and finally into crushing misery. “Yesterday I was like a singing bird, soaring freely here and there in the fields. Today I am a slave to fickle wealth, society’s rules, and city’s customs, and purchased friends, pleasing the people by conforming to the strange and narrow laws of man. I was born to be free and enjoy the bounty of life, but I find myself like a beast of burden so heavily laden with gold that his back is breaking. “Where are the spacious plains, the singing brooks, the pure breeze, the closeness of Nature? Where is my deity? I have lost all! Naught remains save loneliness that saddens me, gold that ridicules me, slaves who curse to my back, and a palace that I have erected as a tomb for my happiness, and in whose greatness I have lost my heart. “Yesterday I roamed the prairies and the hills together with the Bedouin’s daughter; Virtue was our companion, Love our delight, and the moon our guardian. Today I am among women with shallow beauty who sell themselves for gold and diamonds. “Yesterday I was carefree, sharing with the shepherds all the joy of life; eating, playing, working, singing, and dancing together to the music of the heart’s truth. Today I find myself among the people like a frightened lamb among the wolves. As I walk in the roads, they gaze at me with hateful eyes and point at me with scorn and jealousy, and as I steal through the park I see frowning faces all about me. “Yesterday I was rich in happiness and today I am poor in gold. “Yesterday I was a happy shepherd looking upon his head as a merciful king looks with pleasure upon his contented subjects. Today I am a slave standing before my wealth, my wealth which robbed me of the beauty of life I once knew. “Forgive me, my Judge! I did not know that riches would put my life in fragments and lead me into the dungeons of harshness and stupidity. What I thought was glory is naught but an eternal inferno.” He gathered himself wearily and walked slowly toward the palace, sighing and repeating, “Is this what people call wealth? Is this the god I am serving and worshipping? Is this what I seek of the earth? Why can I not trade it for one particle of contentment? Who would sell me one beautiful thought for a ton of gold? Who would give me one moment of love for a handful of gems? Who would grant me an eye that can see others’ hearts, and take all my coffers in barter?” As he reached the palace gates he turned and looked toward the city as Jeremiah gazed toward Jerusalem. He raised his arms in woeful lament and shouted, “Oh people of the noisome city, who are living in darkness, hastening toward misery, preaching falsehood, and speaking with stupidity...until when shall you remain ignorant? Unit when shall you abide in the filth of life and continue to desert its gardens? Why wear you tattered robes of narrowness while the silk raiment of Nature’s beauty is fashioned for you? The lamp of wisdom is dimming; it is time to furnish it with oil. The house of true fortune is being destroyed; it is time to rebuild it and guard it. The thieves of ignorance have stolen the treasure of your peace; it is time to retake it!” At that moment a poor man stood before him and stretched forth his hand for alms. As he looked at the beggar, his lips parted, his eyes brightened with a softness, and his face radiated kindness. It was as if the yesterday he had lamented by the lake had come to greet him. He embraced the pauper with affection and filled his hands with gold, and with a voice sincere with the sweetness of love he said, “Come back tomorrow and bring with you your fellow sufferers. All your possessions will be restored.” He entered his palace saying, “Everything in life is good; even gold, for it teaches a lesson. Money is like a stringed instrument; he who does not know how to use it properly will hear only discordant music. Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and it enlivens the other who turns it upon his fellow man.”
Leave Me, My Blamer
Leave me, my blamer,
For the sake of the love which unites your soul with that of your beloved one ;
For the sake of that which joins spirit with mothers affection,
And ties your heart with filial love.
Go, and leave me to my own weeping heart.
* * *
Let me sail in the ocean of my dreams ;
Wait until Tomorrow comes,
For tomorrow is free to do with me as he wishes.
Your laying is naught but shadow
That walks with the spirit to the tomb of abashment,
And shows heard the cold, solid earth.
* * *
I have a little heart within me
And I like to bring him out of his prison and carry him on the palm of my hand
To examine him In depth and extract his secret.
Aim not your arrows at him,
Lest he takes fright and vanish ‘ere he pours the secret blood
As a sacrifice at the altar of his own faith,
Given him by Deity
When he fashioned him of love and beauty.
* * *
The sun is rising and the nightingale Is singing,
And the myrtle is breathing its fragrance into space.
I want to free myself from the quilted slumber of wrong.
Do not detain me, my blamer!
* * *
Cavil me not by mention of the lions of the forest
Or the snakes of the valley,
For me soul knows no fear of earth
And accepts no warning of evil before evil comes.
* * *
Advise me not, my blamer,
For calamities have opened my heart
And tears have cleansed my eyes,
And errors have taught me the language of the hearts.
* * *
Talk not of banishment, for conscience is my judge
And he will justify me and protect me if I am innocent,
And will deny me of life if I am a criminal.
* * *
Love’s procession is moving ;
&n
bsp; Beauty is waving her banner ;
Youth is sounding the trumpet of joy ;
Disturb not my contrition, my blamer.
Let me walk, for the path is rich with roses and mint,
And the air is scented with cleanliness.
* * *
Relate not the tales of wealth and greatness,
For my soul is rich with bounty and great with God’s glory.
* * *
Speak not of peoples and laws and kingdoms,
For the whole earth is my birthplace
And all humans are my brothers.
* * *
Go from me, for you are taking away life –
Giving repentance and bringing needless words.
The Beauty Of Death
Part One – The Calling
Let me sleep, for my soul is intoxicated with love and
Let me rest, for my spirit has had its bounty of days and nights ;
Light the candles and burn the incense around my bed, and
Scatter leaves of jasmine and roses over my body ;
Embalm my hair with frankincense and sprinkle my feet with perfume,
And read what the hand of Death has written on my forehead.
* * *
Let me rest in the arms of Slumber, for my open eyes are tired ;
Let the silver-stringed lyre quiver and soothe my spirit ;
Weave from the harp and lute a veil around my withering heart.
* * *
Sing of the past as you behold the dawn of hope in my eyes, for
It’s magic meaning is a soft bed upon which my heart rests.
* * *
Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers
Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.
Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light
Between my bed and the infinite ;
Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of her
white wings.
* * *
Come close and bid me farewell ;
Touch my eyes with smiling lips.
Let the children grasp my hands with soft and rosy fingers ;
Let the ages place their veined hands upon my head and bless me ;
Let the virgins come close and see the shadow of God in my eyes,
And hear the echo of His will racing with my breath.
Part Two – The Ascending
I have passed a mountain peak
And my soul is soaring in the firmament of complete and unbound freedom ;
I am far, far away, my companions,
And the clouds are hiding the hills from my eyes.
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence,
And the hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses ;
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white spectre
That looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight
And red as the twilight.
* * *
The songs of the waves and the hymns of the streams are scattered,
And the voices of the throngs reduced to silence ;
And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity
In exact harmony with the spirit’s desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness ;
I am in comfort; I am in peace.
Part Three – The Remains
Unwrap me from this white linen shroud
And clothe me with leaves of jasmine and lilies ;
Take my body from the ivory casket and let it rest
Upon pillows of orange blossoms.
Lament me not, but sing songs of youth and joy ;
Shed not tears upon me, but sing of harvest and the winepress ;
Utter no sigh of agony,
But draw upon my face with your finger the symbol of Love and Joy.
Disturb not the air’s tranquillity with chanting and requiems,
But let your hearts sing with me the song of Eternal Life ;
Mourn me not with apparel of black,
But dress in colour and rejoice with me ;
Talk not of my departure with sighs in your hearts ;
Close your eyes and you will see me with you forevermore.
* * *
Place me upon clusters of leaves
And carry my upon your friendly shoulders
And walk slowly to the deserted forest.
Take me not to the crowded burying ground
Lest my slumber be disrupted by the rattling of bones and skulls.
Carry me to the cypress woods
And dig my grave where violets and poppies grow not in the other’s shadow ;
Let my grave be deep
So that the flood will not carry my bones to the open valley ;
Let my grace be wide,
So that the twilight shadows will come and sit by me.
* * *
Take from me all earthly raiment
And place me deep in my Mother Earth ;
And place me with care upon my mother’s breast.
Cover me with soft earth,
And let each handful be mixed with seeds of jasmine, lilies and myrtle ;
And when they grow above me,
And thrive on my body’s element they will breathe the fragrance of my heart into space ;
And reveal even to the sun the secret of my peace ;
And sail with the breeze and comfort the wayfarer.
* * *
Leave me then, friends – leave me and depart on mute feet,
As the silence walks in the deserted valley ;
Leave me to God and disperse yourselves slowly,
As the almond and apple blossoms disperse under the vibration of
Nisan’s breeze.
Go back to the joy of your dwellings
And you will find there that which Death cannot remove from you and me.
Leave with place, for what you see here is far away in meaning
From the earthly world. Leave me.
A Poet’s Voice
Part One
The power of charity sows deep in my heart, and I reap and gather the wheat in bundles and give them to the hungry.
* * *
My soul gives life to the grapevine and I press its bunches and give the juice to the thirsty.
* * *
Heaven fills my lamp with oil and I place it at my window to direct the stranger through the dark.
* * *
I do all these things because I live in them; and if destiny should tie my hands and prevent me from so doing, then death would be my only desire. For I am a poet, and if I cannot give, I shall refuse to receive.
* * *
Humanity rages like a tempest, but I sigh in silence for I know the storm must pass away while a sigh goes to God.
* * *
Human kinds cling to earthly things, but I seek ever to embrace the torch of love so it will purify me by its fire and sear inhumanity from my heart.
* * *
Substantial things deaden a man without suffering; love awakens him with enlivening pains.
* * *
Humans are divided into different clans and tribes, and belong to countries and towns. But I find myself a stranger to all communities and belong to no settlement. The universe is my country and the human family is my tribe.
* * *
Men are weak, and it is sad that they divide amongst themselves. The world is narrow and it is unwise to cleave it into kingdoms, empires, and provinces.
* * *
Human kinds unite themselves one to destroy the temples of the soul, and they join hands to build edifices for earthly bodies. I stand alone listening to the voice of hope in my deep self saying, “As love enlivens a man’s heart with pain, so ignorance teaches him the way of knowledge.” Pain and ignorance lead to great joy and knowledge because the Supreme Being has created nothing vain under the sun.
Part Two
I have a yearning
for my beautiful country, and I love its people because of their misery. But if my people rose, stimulated by plunder and motivated by what they call “patriotic spirit” to murder, and invaded my neighbour’s country, then upon the committing of any human atrocity I would hate my people and my country.
* * *
I sing the praise of my birthplace and long to see the home of my children; but if the people in that home refused to shelter and feed the needy wayfarer, I would convert my praise into anger and my longing to forgetfulness. My inner voice would say, “The house that does not comfort the need is worthy of naught by destruction.”
* * *
I love my native village with some of my love for my country; and I love my country with part of my love for the earth, all of which is my country; and I love the earth will all of myself because it is the haven of humanity, the manifest spirit of God.
* * *
Humanity is the spirit of the Supreme Being on earth, and that humanity is standing amidst ruins, hiding its nakedness behind tattered rags, shedding tears upon hollow cheeks, and calling for its children with pitiful voice. But the children are busy singing their clan’s anthem; they are busy sharpening the swords and cannot hear the cry of their mothers.
The Kahlil Gibran Collection Page 12
