Collected Poetical Works of Kahlil Gibran

by Kahlil Gibran

  “The sea yields us once more to these shores. We are but another wave of her waves. She sends us forth to sound her speech, but how shall we do so unless we break the symmetry of our heart on rock and sand?

  “For this is the law of mariners and the sea: If you would freedom, you must needs turn to mist. The formless is for ever seeking form, even as the countless nebulae would become suns and moons; and we who have sought much and return now to this isle, rigid moulds, we must become mist once more and learn of the beginning. And what is there that shall live and rise unto the heights except it be broken unto passion and freedom?

  “For ever shall we be in quest of the shores, that we may sing and be heard. But what of the wave that breaks where no ear shall hear? It is the unheard in us that nurses our deeper sorrow. Yet it is also the unheard which carves our soul to form and fashion our destiny.”

  Then one of his mariners came forth and said: “Master, you have captained our longing for this harbour, and behold, we have come. Yet you speak of sorrow, and of hearts that shall be broken.”

  And he answered him and said: “Did I not speak of freedom, and of the mist which is our greater freedom? Yet it is in pain I make pilgrimage to the isle where i was born, even like unto a ghost of one slain come to kneel before those who have slain him.”

  And another mariner spoke and said: “Behold, the multitudes on the sea-wall. In their silence they have fortold even the day and the hour of your coming, and they have gathered from their fields and vineyards in their loving need, to await you.”

  And Almustafa looked afar upon the multitudes, and his heart was mindful of their yearning, and he was silent.

  Then a cry came from the people, and it was a cry of remembrance and of entreaty.

  And he looked upon his mariners and said: “And what have I brought them? A hunter was I, in a distant land. With aim and might i have spent the golden arrows they gave me, but I have brought down no game. I followed not the arrows. Mayhap they are spreading now in the sun with the pinions of wounded eagles that would not fall to the earth. And mayhap the arrow-heads have fallen into the hands of those who had need of them for bread and wine.

  “I know not where they have spent their flight, but this I know: they have made their curve in the sky.

  “Even so, love’s hand is still upon me, and you, my mariners, still sail my vision, and I shal not be dumb. I shall cry out when the hand of the seasons is upon my throat, and I shall sing my words when my lips are burned with flames.”

  And they were troubled in their hearts because he spoke of these things. And one said: “Master, teach us all, and mayhap because your blood flows in our veins, and our breath is of your fragrance, we shall understand.”

  The he answered them, and the wind was in his voice, ans he said: “Brought you me to the isle of my birth to be a teacher? Not yet have I been caged by wisdom. Too young am I and too verdant to speak of aught but self, which is for ever the deep calling upon the deep.

  “Let him who would have wisdom seek it in the buttercup or in a pinch of red clay. I am still the singer. Still I shall sing the earth, and I shall sing your lost dreaming that walks the day between sleep and sleep. But I shall gaze upon the sea.”

  And now the ship entered the harbour and reached the sea-wall, and he came thus to the isle of his birth and stood once more amongst his own people. And a great cry arose from their hearts so that the loneliness of his home-coming was shaken within him.

  And they were silent awaiting his word, but he amswered them not, for the sadness of memory was upon him, and he said in his heart: “Have I said that I shall sing? Nay, I can but open my lips that the voice of life may come forth and go out to the wind for joy and support.”

  Then Karima, she who had played with him, a child, in the Garden of his mother, spoke and said: “Twelve years have you hidden your face from us, and for twelve years have we hungered and thirsted for your voice.”

  And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had closed the eyes of his mother when the white wings of death had gathered her.

  And he answered and said: “Twelve years? Said you twelve years, Karima? I measured not my longing with the starry rod, nor did I sound the depth thereof. For love when love is homesick exhausts time’s measurements and time’s soundings.

  “There are moments that hold aeons of separation. Yet parting is naught but an exhaustion of the mind. Perhaps we have not parted.”

  And Almustafa looked upon the people, and he saw them all, the youth and the aged, the stalwart and the puny, those who were ruddy with the touch of wind and sun, and those who were of pallid countenance; and upon their face a light of longing and of questioning. And one spoke and said: “Master, life has dealt bitterly with our hopes and our desires. Our hearts are troubled, and we do not understand. I pray you, comfort us, and open to us the meanings of our sorrows.”

  And his heart was moved with compassion, and he said: “Life is older than all things living; even as beauty was winged ere the beautiful was born on earth, and even as truth was truth ere it was uttered.

  “Life sings in our silences, and dreams in our slumber. Even when we are beaten and low, Life is enthroned and high. And when we weep, Life smiles upon the day, and is free even when we drag our chains.

  “Oftentimes we call Life bitter names, but only when we ourselves are bitter and dark. And we deem her empty and unprofitable, but only when the soul goes wandering in desolate places, and the heart is drunken with overmindfulness of self.

  “Life is deep and high and distant; and though only your vast vision can reach even her feet, yet she is near; and though only the breath of your breath reaches her heart, the shadow of your shadow crosses her face, and the echo of your faintest cry becomes a spring and an autumn in her breast.

  “And Life is veiled and hidden, even as your greater self is hidden and veiled. Yet when Life speaks, all the winds become words; and when she speaks again, the smiles upon your lips and the tears in your eyes turn also into words. When she sings, the deaf hear and are held; and when shecomes walking, the sightless behold her and are amazed and follow her in wonder and astonishment.”

  And he ceased from speaking, and a vast silence enfolded the people, and in the silence there was an unheard song, and they were comforted of their loneliness and their aching.

  And he left them straightway and followed the path which led to his Garden, which was the Garden of his mother and his father, wherein they lay asleep, they and their forefathers.

  And there were those who would have followed after him, seeing that it was a home-coming, and he was alone, for there was not one left of all his kin to spread the feast of welcome, after the manner of his people.

  But the captain of his ship counselled them saying: “Suffer him to go upon his way. For his bread is the bread of aloneness, and in his cup is the wine of remembrance, which he would drink alone.”

  And his mariners held their steps, for they knew it was even as the captain of the ship had told them. And all those who gathered upon the sea-wall restrained the feet of their desire.

  Only Karima went after him, a little way, yearning over his aloneness and his memories. And she spoke not, but turned and went unto her own house, and in the garden under the almond-tree she wept, yet she knew not wherefore. And Almustafa came and found the Garden of his mother and his father, and he entered in, and closed the gate that no man might come after him.

  And for forty days and forty nights he dwelt alone in that house and that Garden, and none came, not even unto the gate, for it was closed, and all the people knew that he would be alone.

  And when the forty days and nights were ended, Almustafa opened the gate that they might come in.

  And there came nine men to be with him in th Garden; three mariners from his own ship; three who had been his comrades in play when they were but children together. And these were his disciples.

  And on a morning his disciples sat around him, and th
ere were distances and remembrances in his eyes. And that disciple who was called Hafiz said unto him: “Master, tel us of the city of Orphalese, and of that land wherein you tarried those twelve years.”

  And Almustafa was silent, and he looked away towards the hills and toward the vast ether, and there was a battle in his silence.

  Then he said: “My friends and my road-fellows, pity the nation that is full of beliefs and empty of religion.

  “Pity the nation that wears a cloth it does not weave, eats a bread it does not harvest, and drinks a wine that flows not from its own winepress.

  “Pity the nation that acclaims the bully as hero, and that deems the glittering conqueror bountiful.

  “Pity the nation that despises a passion in its dream, yet submits in its awakening.

  “Pity the nation that raisesnot its voice save when it walks in a funeral, boasts not except when its neck is laid between the sword and the block.

  “Pity the nation whose statesman is a fox, whose philosopher is a juggle, and whose art is the art of patching and mimicking.

  “Pity the nation that welcomes its new ruler with trumpetings, and farewells him with hootings, only to welcome another with trumpetings again.

  “Pity the nation whose sages are dumb with years and whose strong men are yet in the cradle.

  “Pity the nation divided into fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation.”

  And one said: “Speak to us of that which is moving in your own heart even now.”

  And he looked upon that one, and there was in his voice a sound like a star singing, and he said: “In your waking dream, when you are hushed and listening to your deeper self, your thoughts, like snow- flakes, fall and flutter and garment all the sounds of your spaces with white silence.

  “And what are waking dreams but clouds that bud and blossom on the sky-tree of your heart? And what are your thoughts but the petals which the winds of your heart scatter upon the hills and its fields?

  “And even as you wait for peace until the formless within you takes form, so shall the cloud gather and drift until the Blessed Fingers shape its grey desire to little crystal suns and moons and stars.”

  Then Sarkis, he who was the half-doubter, spoke and said: “But spring shall come, and all the snows of our dreams and our thoughts shall melt and be no more.”

  And he answered saying: “When Spring comes to seek His beloved amongst the slumbering groves and vineyards, the snows shall indeed melt and shall run in streams to seek the river in the valley, to be the cup-bearer to the myrtle-trees and laurel.

  “So shall the snow of your heart melt when your Spring is come, and thus shall your secret run in streams to seek the river of life in the valley. And the river shall enfold your secret and carry it to the great sea.

  “All things shall melt and turn into songs when Spring comes. Even the stars, the vast snow-flakes that fall slowly upon the larger fields, shall melt into singing streams. When the sun of His face shall rise above the wider horizon, then what frozen symmetry would not turn into liquid melody? And who among you would not be the cup-bearer to the myrtle and the laurel?

  “It was but yesterday that you were moving with the moving sea, and you were shoreless and without a self. Then the wind, the breath of Life, wove you, a veil of light on her face; then her hand gathered you and gave you form, and with a head held high you sought the heights. But the sea followed after you, and her song is still with you. And though you have forgotten your parentage, she will for ever assert her motherhood, and for ever will she call you unto her.

  “In your wanderings among the mountains and the desert you will always remember the depth of her cool heart. And though oftentimes you will not know for what you long, it is indeed for her vast and rhythmic peace.

  “And how else can it be? In grove and in bower when the rain dances in leaves upon the hill, when snow falls, a blessing and a covenant; in the valley when you lead your flocks to the river; in your fields where brooks, like silver streams. join together the green garment; in your gardens when the early dews mirror the heavens; in your meadows when the mist of evening half veils your way; in all these the sea is with you, a witness to your heritage, and a claim upon your love.

  “It is the snow-flake in you running down to the sea.” And on a morning as they walked in the Garden, there appeared before the gate a woman, and it was Karima, she whom Almustafa had loved even as a sister in his boyhood. And she stood without, asking nothing, nor knocking with her hand upon the gate, but only gazing with longing and sadness into the Garden.

  And Almustafa saw the desire upon her eyelids, and with swift steps he came to the wall and the gate and opened unto her, and she came in and was made welcome.

  And she spoke and said: “Wherefore have you withdrawn yourself from us altogether, that we may not live in the light of your countenance? For behold, these many years have we loved you and waited with longing for your safe return. And now the people cry for you and would have speech with you; and I am their messenger come to beseech you that you will show yourself to the people, and speak to them out of your wisdom, and comfort the broken of heart and instruct our foolishness.”

  And looking upon her, he said: “Call me not wise unless you call all men wise. A young fruit am I, still clinging to the branch, and it was only yesterday that I was but a blossom.

  “And call none among you foolish, for in truth we are neither wise nor foolish. We are green leaves upon the tree of life, and life itself is beyond wisdom, and surely beyond foolishness.

  “And have I indeed withdrawn myself from you? Know you not that there is no distance save that which the soul does not span in fancy? And when the soul shall span that distance, it becomes a rhythm in the soul.

  “The space that lies between you and your near neighbour unbefriended is indeed greater than that which lies between you and your beloved who dwells beyond seven lands and seven seas.

  “For in remembrance there are no distances; and only in oblivion is there a gulf that neither your voice nor your eye can abridge.

  “Between the shores of the oceans and the summit of the highest mountain there is a secret road which you must needs travel ere you become one with the sons of earth.

  “And between your knowledge and your understanding there is a secret path which you must needs discover ere you become one with man, and therefore one with yourself.

  “Between your right hand that gives and your left hand that receives there is a great space. Only by deeming them both giving and receiving can you bring them into spacelessness, for it is only in knowing that you have naught to give and naught to receive that you can overcome space.

  “Verily the vastest distance is that which lies between your sleep-vision and your wakefulness; and between that which is but a deed and that which is a desire.

  “And there is still another road which you must needs travel ere you become one with Life. But of that road I shall not speak now, seeing that you are weary already of travelling.”

  Then he went forth with the woman, he and the nine, even unto the market-place, and he spoke to the people, his friends and his neighbours, and there was joy in their hearts and upon their eyelids.

  And he said: “You grow in sleep, and live your fuller life in you dreaming. For all your days are spent in thanksgiving for that which you have received in the stillness of the night.

  “Oftentimes you think and speak of night as the season of rest, yet in truth night is the season of seeking and finding.

  “The day gives unto you the power of knowledge and teaches your fingers to become versed in the art of receiving; but it is night that leads you to the treasure-house of Life.

  “The sun teaches to all things that grow their longing for the light. But it is night that raises them to the stars.

  “It is indeed the stillness of the night that weaves a wedding-veil over the trees in the forest, and the flowers in the garden, and then spreads the lavish feast and makes ready the nuptial ch
amber; and in that holy silence tomorrow is conceived in the womb of Time.

  ‘Thus it is with you, and thus, in seeking, you find meat and fulfillment. And though at dawn your awakening erases the memory, the board of dreams is for ever spread, and the nuptial chamber waiting.”

  And he was silent for a space, and they also, awaiting his word. Then he spoke again, saying: “You are spirits though you move in bodies; and like oil that burns in the dark, you are flames though held in lamps.

  “If you were naught save bodies, then my standing before you and speaking unto you would be but emptiness, even as the dead calling unto the dead. But this is not so. All that is deathless in you is free unto the day and the night and cannot be housed nor fettered, for this is the will of the Most High. You are His breath even as the wind that shall be neither caught nor caged. And I also am the breath of His breath.”

  And he went from their midst walking swiftly and entered again into the Garden.

  And Sarkis, he who was the half-doubter, spoke and said: “And what of ugliness, Master? You speak never of ugliness.”

  And Almustafa answered him, and there was a whip in his words, and he said: “My friend, what man shall call you inhospitable if he shall pass by your house, yet would not knock at your door?

  “And who shall deem you deaf and unmindful if he shall speak to you in a strange tongue of which you understand nothing?

  “Is it not that which you have never striven to reach, into whose heart you have never desired to enter, that you deem ugliness?

  “If ugliness is aught, indeed, it is but the scales upon our eyes, and the wax filling our ears.

  “Call nothing ugly, my friend, save the fear of a soul in the presence of its own memories.”

  And upon a day as they sat in the long shadows of the white poplars, one spoke saying: “Master, I am afraid of time. It passes over us and robs us of our youth, and what does it give in return?”