Collected Poetical Works of Kahlil Gibran

by Kahlil Gibran

  Once on an evening a poet met a peasant. The poet was distant and the peasant was shy, yet they conversed.

  And the peasant said, “Let me tell you a little story which I heard of late. A mouse was caught in a trap, and while he was happily eating the cheese that lay therein, a cat stood by. The mouse trembled awhile, but he knew he was safe within the trap.

  “Then the cat said, ‘You are eating your last meal, my friend.’

  “‘Yes,’ answered the mouse, ‘one life have I, therefore one death. But what of you? They tell me you have nine lives. Doesn’t that mean that you will have to die nine times?’ “

  And the peasant looked at the poet and he said, “Is not this a strange story?”

  And the poet answered him not, but he walked away saying in his soul, “To be sure, nine lives have we, nine lives to be sure. And we shall die nine times, nine times shall we die. Perhaps it were better to have but one life, caught in a trap — the life of a peasant with a bit of cheese for the last meal. And yet, are we not kin unto the lions of the desert and the jungle?”

  THE CURSE

  And old man of the sea once said to me, “It was thirty years ago that a sailor ran away with my daughter. And I cursed them both in my heart, for of all the world I loved but my daughter.

  “Not long after that, the sailor youth went down with his ship to the bottom of the sea, and with him my lovely daughter was lost unto me.

  “Now therefore behold in me the murderer of a youth and a maid. It was my curse that destroyed them. And now on my way to the grave I seek God’s forgiveness.”

  This the old man said. But there was a tone of bragging in his words, and it seems that he is still proud of the power of his curse.

  THE POMEGRANATES

  There was once a man who had many pomegranate trees in his orchard. And for many an autumn he would put his pomegranates on silvery trays outside of his dwelling, and upon the trays he would place signs upon which he himself had written, “Take one for aught. You are welcome.”

  But people passed by and no one took of the fruit.

  Then the man bethought him, and one autumn he placed no pomegranates on silvery trays outside of his dwelling, but he raised this sign in large lettering: “Here we have the best pomegranates in the land, but we sell them for more silver than any other pomegranates.”

  And now behold, all the men and women of the neighbourhood came rushing to buy.

  GOD AND MANY GODS

  In the city of Kilafis a sophist stood on the steps of the Temple and preached many gods. And the people said in their hearts, “We know all this. Do they not live with us and follow us wherever we go?”

  Not long after, another man stood in the market place and spoke unto the people and said, “There is no god.” And many who heard him were glad of his tidings, for they were afraid of gods.

  And upon another day there came a man of great eloquence, an he said, “There is but one God.” And now the people were dismayed for in their hearts they feared the judgment of one God more than that of many gods.

  That same season there came yet another man, and he said to the people, “There are three gods, and they dwell upon the wind as one, and they have a vast and gracious mother who is also their mate and their sister.”

  Then everyone was comforted, for they said in their secret, “three gods in one must needs disagree over our failings, and besides, their gracious mother will surely be an advocate for us poor weaklings.”

  Yet even to this day there are those in the city of Kilafis who wrangle and argue with each other about many gods and no god, and one god and three gods in one, and a gracious mother of gods.

  SHE WHO WAS DEAF

  Once there lived a rich man who had a young wife, and she was stone deaf.

  And upon a morning when they were breaking their feast, she spoke to him and she said, “Yesterday I visited the market place, and there were exhibited silken raiment from Damascus, and coverchiefs from India, necklaces from Persia, and bracelets from Yamman. It seems that the caravans had but just brought these things to our city. And now behold me, in rags, yet the wife of a rich man. I would have some of those beautiful things.”

  The husband, still busy with his morning coffee said, “My dear, there is no reason why you should not go down to the Street and buy all that your heart may desire.”

  And the deaf wife said, “‘No!’ You always say, ‘No, no.’ Must I needs appear in tatters among our friends to shame your wealth and my people?”

  And the husband said, “I did not say, ‘No.’ You may go forth freely to the market place and purchase the most beautiful apparel and jewels that have come to our city.”

  But again the wife mis-read his words, and she replied, “Of all rich men you are the most miserly. You would deny me everything of beauty and loveliness, while other women of my age walk the gardens of the city clothed in rich raiment.”

  And she began to weep. And as her tears fell upon her breast she cried out again, “You always say, ‘Nay, nay’ to me when I desire a garment or a jewel.”

  Then the husband was moved, and he stood up and took out of his purse a handful of gold and placed it before her, saying in a kindly voice, “Go down to the market place, my dear, and buy all that you will.”

  From that day onward the deaf young wife, whenever she desired anything, would appear before her husband with a pearly tear in her eye, and he in silence would take out a handful of gold and place it in her lap.

  Now, it changed that the young woman fell in love with a youth whose habit it was to make long journeys. And whenever he was away she would sit in her casement and weep.

  When her husband found her thus weeping, he would say in his heart, “There must be some new caravan, and some silken garments and rare jewels in the Street.”

  And he would take a handful of gold and place it before her.

  THE QUEST

  A thousand years ago two philosophers met on a slope of Lebanon, and one said to the other, “Where goest thou?”

  And the other answered, “I am seeking after the fountain of youth which I know wells out among these hills. I have found writings which tell of that fountain flowering toward the sun. And you, what are you seeking?”

  The first man answered, “I am seeking after the mystery of death.”

  Then each of the two philosophers conceived that the other was lacking in his great science, and they began to wrangle, and to accuse each other of spiritual blindness.

  Now while the two philosophers were loud upon the wind, a stranger, a man who was deemed a simpleton in his own village, passed by, and when he heard the two in hot dispute, he stood awhile and listened to their argument.

  Then he came near to them and said, “My good men, it seems that you both really belong to the same school of philosophy, and that you are speaking of the same thing, only you speak in different words. One of you is seeks the fountain of youth, and the other seeks the mystery of death. Yet indeed they are but one, and as they dwell in you both.”

  Then the stranger turned away saying, “Farewell sages.” And as he departed he laughed a patient laughter.

  The two philosophers looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then they laughed also. And one of them said, “Well now, shall we not walk and seek together.”

  THE SCEPTRE

  Said a king to his wife, “Madame, you are not truly a queen. You are too vulgar and ungracious to be my mate.”

  Said his wife, “Sir, you deem yourself king, but indeed you are only a poor soundling.”

  Now these words angered the king, and he took his sceptre with his hand, and struck the queen upon her forehead with his golden sceptre.

  At that moment the lord chamberlain entered, and he said, “Well, well, Majesty! That sceptre was fashioned by the greatest artist of the land. Alas! Some day you and the queen shall be forgotten, but this sceptre shall be kept, a thing of beauty from generation to generation. And now that you have drawn blood from her Majesty
’s head, Sire, the sceptre shall be the more considered and remembered.”

  THE PATH

  There lived among the hills a woman and her son, and he was her first-born and her only child.

  And the boy died of a fever whilst the physician stood by.

  The mother was distraught with sorrow, and she cried to the physician and besought him saying, “Tell me, tell me, what was it that made quiet his striving and silent his song?”

  And the physician said, “It was the fever.”

  And the mother said, “What is the fever?”

  And the physician answered, “I cannot explain it. It is a thing infinitely small that visits the body, and we cannot see it with the human eye.”

  The physician left her. And she kept repeating to herself, “Something infinitely small. We cannot see it with our human eye.”

  And at evening the priest came to console her. And she wept and she cried out saying, “Oh, why have I lost my son, my only son, my first-born?”

  And the priest answered, “My child, it is the will of God.”

  And the woman said, “What is God and where is God? I would see God that I may tear my bosom before Him, and pour the blood of my heart at His feet. Tell me where I shall find Him.”

  And the priest said, ““God is infinitely vast. He is not to be seen with our human eye.”

  Then the woman cried out, “The infinitely small has slain my son through the will of the infinitely great! Then what are we? What are we?”

  At that moment the woman’s mother came into the room with the shroud for the dead boy, and she heard the words of the priest and also her daughter’s cry. And she laid down the shroud, and took her daughter’s hand in her own hand, and she said, “My daughter, we ourselves are the infinitely small and the infinitely great; and we are the path between the two.”

  THE WHALE AND THE BUTTERFLY

  Once on an evening a man and a woman found themselves together in a stagecoach. They had met before.

  The man was a poet, and as he sat beside the woman he sought to amuse her with stories, some that were of his own weaving, and some that were not his own.

  But even while he was speaking the lady went to sleep. Then suddenly the coach lurched, and she awoke, and she said, “I admire your interpretation of the story of Jonah and the whale.”

  And the poet said, “But Madame, I have been telling you a story of mine own about a butterfly and a white rose, and how they behaved the one to the other!”

  THE SHADOW

  Upon a June day the grass said to the shadow of an elm tree, “You move to right and left over-often, and you disturb my peace.”

  And the shadow answered and said, “Not I, not I. Look skyward. There is a tree that moves in the wind to the east and to the west, between the sun and the earth.”

  And the grass looked up, and for the first time beheld the tree. And it said in its heart, “Why, behold, there is a larger grass than myself.”

  And the grass was silent.

  PEACE CONTAGIOUS

  One branch in bloom said to his neighbouring branch, “This is a dull and empty day.” And the other branch answered, “It is indeed empty and dull.”

  At that moment a sparrow alighted on one of the branches, and the another sparrow, nearby.

  And one of the sparrows chirped and said, “My mate has left me.”

  And the other sparrow cried, “My mate has also gone, and she will not return. And what care I?”

  Then the two birds began to twitter and scold, and soon they were fighting and making harsh noise upon the air.

  All of a sudden two other sparrows came sailing from the sky, and they sat quietly beside the restless two. And there was calm, and there was peace.

  Then the four flew away together in pairs.

  And the first branch said to his neighbouring branch, “That was a mighty zig-zag of sound.”

  And the other branch answered, “Call it what you will, it is now both peaceful and spacious. And if the upper air makes peace it seems to me that those who dwell in the lower might make peace also. Will you not wave in the wind a little nearer to me?”

  And the first branch said, “Oh, perchance, for peace’ sake, ere the Spring is over.”

  And then he waved himself with the strong wind to embrace her.

  SEVENTY

  The poet youth said to the princess, “I love you.” And the princess answered, “And I love you too, my child.”

  “But I am not your child. I am a man and I love you.”

  And she said, “I am the mother of sons and daughters, and they are fathers and mothers of sons and daughters; and one of the sons of my sons is older than you.”

  And the poet youth said, “But I love you.”

  It was not long after that the princess died. But ere her last breath was received again by the greater breath of earth, she said within her soul, “My beloved, mine only son, my youth-poet, it may yet be that some day we shall meet again, and I shall not be seventy.”

  FINDING GOD

  Two men were walking in the valley, and one man pointed with his finger toward the mountain side, and said, “See you that hermitage? There lives a man who has long divorced the world. He seeks but after God, and naught else upon this earth.”

  And the other man said, “He shall not find God until he leaves his hermitage, and the aloneness of his hermitage, and returns to our world, to share our joy and pain, to dance with our dancers at the wedding feast, and to weep with those who weep around the coffins of our dead.”

  And the other man was convinced in his heart, though in spite of his conviction he answered, “I agree with all that you say, yet I believe the hermit is a good man. And it may it not well be that one good man by his absence does better than the seeming goodness of these many men?”

  THE RIVER

  In the valley of Kadisha where the mighty river flows, two little streams met and spoke to one another.

  One stream said, “How came you, my friend, and how was your path?”

  And the other answered, “My path was most encumbered. The wheel of the mill was broken, and the master farmer who used to conduct me from my channel to his plants, is dead. I struggled down oozing with the filth of laziness in the sun. But how was your path, my brother?”

  And the other stream answered and said, “Mine was a different path. I came down the hills among fragrant flowers and shy willows; men and women drank of me with silvery cups, and little children paddled their rosy feet at my edges, and there was laughter all about me, and there were sweet songs. What a pity that your path was not so happy.”

  At that moment the river spoke with a loud voice and said, “Come in, come in, we are going to the sea. Come in, come in, speak no more. Be with me now. We are going to the sea. Come in, come in, for in me you shall forget you wanderings, sad or gay. Come in, come in. And you and I will forget all our ways when we reach the heart of our mother the sea.”

  THE TWO HUNTERS

  Upon a day in May, Joy and Sorrow met beside a lake. They greeted one another, and they sat down near the quiet waters and conversed.

  Joy spoke of the beauty which is upon the earth, and the daily wonder of life in the forest and among the hills, and of the songs heard at dawn and eventide.

  And sorrow spoke, and agreed with all that Joy had said; for Sorrow knew the magic of the hour and the beauty thereof. And Sorrow was eloquent when he spoke of may in the fields and among the hills.

  And Joy and Sorrow talked long together, and they agreed upon all things of which they knew.

  Now there passed by on the other side of the lake two hunters. And as they looked across the water one of them said, “I wonder who are those two persons?” And the other said, “Did you say two? I see only one.”

  The first hunter said, “But there are two.” And the second said, “There is only one that I can see, and the reflection in the lake is only one.”

  “Nay, there are two,” said the first hunter, “and the reflectio
n in the still water is of two persons.”

  But the second man said again, “Only one do I see.” And again the other said, “But I see two so plainly.”

  And even unto this day one hunter says that the other sees double; while the other says, “My friend is somewhat blind.”

  THE OTHER WANDERER

  Once on a time I met another man of the roads. He too was a little mad, and thus spoke to me:

  “I am a wanderer. Oftentimes it seems that I walk the earth among pygmies. And because my head is seventy cubits farther from the earth than theirs, it creates higher and freer thoughts.

  “But in truth I walk not among men but above them, and all they can see of me is my footprints in their open fields.

  “And often have I heard them discuss and disagree over the shape and size of my footprints. For there are some who say, ‘These are the tracks of a mammoth that roamed the earth in the far past.’ And others say, ‘Nay, these are places where meteors have fallen from the distant stars.’

  “But you, my friend, you know full well that they are naught save the footprints of a wanderer.”

  THE GARDEN OF THE PROPHET (1933)

  THE GARDEN OF THE PROPHET

  Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a noon unto his own day, returned to the isle of his birth in the month of Tichreen, which is the month of remembrance.

  And as his ship approached the harbour, he stood upon its prow, and his mariners were about him. And there was a homecoming in his heart.

  And he spoke, and the sea was in his voice, and he said: “Behold, the isle of our birth. Even here the earth heaved us, a song and a riddle; a song unto the sky, a riddle unto the earth; and what is there between earth and sky that shall carry the song and solve the riddle save our own passion?