And sour as the hard grapes, and I said to
Myself, “Woe to me, for I have placed a
Curse in the mouths of the people, and an
Ailment in their bodies. What have you
Done, my soul, with the sweet sap which
Your roots have sucked from the earth, and
The fragrance which you have drawn from
The sky?” In anger did I tear the strong
And old tree of my soul, with each of the
Struggling roots, from the depths of the
Earth.
I uprooted it from the past, and took
From it the memories of one thousand
Springs and one thousand Autumns, and I
Planted the tree of my soul in another
Place. It was now in a field afar from
The path of Time; and I tended it in day
And in night, saying within me, “Wakefulness
Will bring us closer to the stars.”
I watered it with blood and tears, saying,
“There is a flavour in blood, and a
Sweetness in tears.” When Spring returned,
My tree bloomed again, and in the Summer it
Bore fruit. And when Autumn came, I gathered
All the ripe fruit upon a golden plate and
Offered it in the public path, and the people
Passed but none desired my fruit.
Then I took one fruit and brought it to my
Lips, and it was sweet as the honeycomb
And exhilarating as the wine of Babylon
And fragrant as the jasmine. And I cried
Out, saying, “The people do not want a
Blessing in their mouths, nor a truth in
Their hearts, for Blessing is the daughter
Of Tears, and Truth is the son of Blood.”
I left the noisome city to sit in the shadow
Of the solitary tree of my soul, in a
Field far from life’s path.
Be silent, my heart, until Dawn comes;
Be silent and attend my story;
Yesterday my thoughts were a boat sailing
Amidst the waves in the sea, and moving
With the winds from one land to another.
And my boat was empty except of seven
Jars of rainbow colours; and the time
Came when I grew weary of moving about
On the face of the sea, and I said to
Myself, “I shall return with the empty
Boat of my thoughts to the harbour of the
Isle of my birth.”
And I prepared by colouring my boat yellow
Like the sunset, and green like the heart
Of Spring, and blue like the sky, and red
Like the anemone. And on the masts and
On the rudder I drew strange figures that
Compelled the attention and dazzled the
Eye. And as I ended my task, the boat of
My thoughts seemed as a prophetic vision,
Sailing between the two infinities, the
Sea and the sky.
I entered the harbour of the isle of my
Birth, and the people surged to meet me
With singing and merriment. And the
Throngs invited me to enter the city;
And they were plucking their instruments
And sounding their tambourines.
Such welcome was mine because my boat
Was beautifully decorated, and none
Entered and saw the interior of the
Boat of my thoughts, nor asked what
I had brought from beyond the seas. Nor
Could they observe that I had brought
My boat back empty, for its brilliance
Had rendered them blind. Thereupon I
Said within myself, “I have led the
People astray, and with seven jars of
Colours I have cheated their eyes.”
Thereafter, I embarked in the boat of
My thoughts, again to set sail. I
Visited the East Islands and gathered
Myrrh, frankincense and sandalwood, and
Placed them in my boat.… I roamed the
West Islands and brought ivory and ruby
And emerald and many rare gems.… I
Journeyed the South Islands and carried
Back with me beautiful armours and
Glittering swords and spears and all
Varieties of weapons.… I filled the
Boat of my thoughts with the choicest
And most precious things on earth, and
Returned to the harbour of the isle of
My birth, saying, “The people shall again
Glorify me, but with honesty, and they
Shall again invite me to enter their
City, but with merit.”
And when I reached the harbour, none
Came to meet me.… I walked the streets
Of my earlier glory but no person looked
Upon me.… I stood in the market place
Shouting to the people of the treasures
In my boat, and they mocked at me and
Heeded not.
I returned to the harbour with spiritless
Heart and disappointment and confusion.
And when I gazed upon my boat, I observed
A thing which I had not seen during my
Voyage, and I exclaimed, “The waves of
The sea have done away with the colours and
The figures on my boat and caused it to look
Like a skeleton.” The winds and the spray
Together with the burning sun had effaced
The brilliant hues and my boat looked now
Like tattered grey raiment. I could not
Observe these changes from amid my treasures,
For I had blinded my eyes from the inside.
I had gathered the most precious things on
Earth and placed them in a floating chest
Upon the face of the water and returned to
My people, but they cast me away and could
Not see me, for their eyes had been allured
By empty, shimmering objects.
At that hour I left the boat of my thoughts
For the City of the Dead, and sat in the
Midst of the trim graves, contemplating
Their secrets.
Be silent, my heart, until Dawn comes; be
Silent, for the raging tempest is ridiculing
Your inner whispering, and the caves of
The valleys do not echo the vibration of
Your strings.
Be silent, my heart, until Morn comes,
For he who awaits patiently the coming
Of Dawn will be embraced longingly by
Morningtide.
Dawn is breaking. Speak if you are able,
My heart. Here is the procession of
Morningtide.… Why do you not speak?
Has not the silence of the night left
A song in your inner depths with which
You may meet Dawn?
Here are the swarms of doves and the
Nightingales moving in the far portion
Of the valley. Are you capable of flying
With the birds, or has the horrible night
Weakened your wings? The shepherds are
Leading the sheep from their folds; has
The phantom of the night left strength
In you so you may walk behind them to
The green prairies? The young men and
Women are walking gracefully toward the
Vineyards. Will you be able to stand
And walk with them? Rise, my heart, and
Walk with Dawn, for the night has passed,
And the fear of darkness has vanished with
Its black dreams and ghastly thoughts and
Insane travels.
Rise, my heart,
and raise your voice with
Music, for he who shares not Dawn with
His songs is one of the sons of ever-Darkness.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook onscreen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
copyright © 1972 by Philosophical Library, Inc.
Translated by Anthony Rizcallah Ferris
Edited by Martin L. Wolf
This 2011 edition distributed by Open Road Integrated Media
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Between Night and Morn Page 6