Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran

by Kahlil Gibran

  Since Sarkis was the head of the committee honoring the poet, he extended an invitation to his friend Gibran in New York to join them on the honor day in Beirut. Gibran could not make the trip, but he sent to Sarkis a prose poem with instructions to read it in his behalf before the poet on the day of the event. The story, which is not published in this book, was entitled “The Poet from Baalbeck.” It was a eulogy in which Gibran pictured the poet laureate of the two sister countries as a prince sitting on his golden throne and receiving wise men from the East. In the story, Gibran expressed his belief in the transmigration of souls and praises the great soul that was incarnated in the honored poet’s body.

  TO SALEEM SARKIS

  New York,

  Oct. 6, 1912

  Dear Sarkis Effandi,

  I am sending you a story that was revealed to me by the devilish muses to honor the poet Khalil Effandi Mutran. As you notice, the story is rather short compared with the dignity of the great prince and outstanding poet. But at the same time it is long in comparison to the ones written by other poets and writers who, of course, are inclined to be brief and clever, especially when it comes to honoring poets. What shall I do when the muses inspire me to write on such a subject that needs a little expatiation?

  Please accept my sincerest thanks for your invitation to join you in honoring a great poet who pours his soul as wine into the cups of the Arab League of Progress, and who burns his heart as incense before the two countries [Syria and Egypt] by strengthening the ties of friendship and love between them.

  To you goes my salaam mingled with my sincerest respect and admiration.

  GIBRAN

  TO AMEEN GURAIEB

  Boston,

  Feb. 18, 1913

  Brother Ameen:

  This is the last word I say to you while you are in this country. It is a word emanating from the holy of holies of the heart, mingled with a sigh of longing and a smile of hope:

  Be healthy every hour of the day, and every day of the month. Enjoy beautiful things wherever you see them, and let their memory and their echo remain in your heart until the day you return to your friends and well-wishers. Meet the admirers of Almuhager in Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon, and speak to them of the deeds of their immigrant brethren; unfold before them that which the long distance has folded between our hearts and their hearts; and strengthen the ties that connect our souls with their souls.

  Take a walk in the morning and stand on the top of one of the mountains in Lebanon and meditate upon the sun when it is rising and pouring its golden rays upon the villages and the valleys. Let these heavenly pictures remain inscribed upon your heart so that we can share them when you come back to us. Be kind enough to convey the longing of our souls and the wishes of our hearts to the youth of Lebanon. Tell the elderly men of Syria that our thoughts, affections, and dreams never leave our hearts and souls except when they fly towards them. When your boat reaches Beirut, stand on its prow and look towards Mount Sunnin and Fam El-Mizab and greet our forefathers who are sleeping under the layers of the earth, and salute the fathers and brothers who are living above the earth. Mention our works and endeavors in private and public meetings. Tell them that we are busy sowing seeds in America so that we may some day reap the harvest in Lebanon. Do and say whatever you wish provided you are happy, for your happiness is the wish and hope of every true Lebanese in the United States of America.

  Miriana shakes your hand and wishes you happiness. Remember me to the well-wishers of Almuhager in Egypt, Syria, and Lebanon. Perchance when my name reaches their ears it will turn into a soothing tune. Goodbye, Ameen, goodbye, O dear brother of

  GIBRAN

  Every time Gibran published a book, he sent a copy to May for criticism. When The Cortege or Procession, and The Madman were published, May reviewed them in Al-Hilal, a magazine in Egypt, and wrote Gibran a special letter in which she discussed the above books. Gibran answered her and thanked her for the criticism, praising her cleverness, her vast knowledge, and her frankness. At the same time he tried to acquit himself of being in agreement with Nietzsche and to deny some ideas he wrote on passion in The Madman.

  TO MAY ZIADEH

  Dear May,

  … All in all the madman is not I. The passion which I sought to bring out through the lips of a personage I had created does not represent my own feelings. The language that I found expressive of the desires of this madman is different from the language that I use when I sit down to converse with a friend whom I love and respect. If you really want to discover my reality through my writings, why don’t you refer to the youth in the field and the soothing tune of his flute instead of the madman and his ugly cries? You will realize that the madman is no more than a link in a long chain made of metal. I do not deny that the madman was an unpolished link of rough iron, but this does not mean that the whole chain is rough. For every soul there is a season, May. The soul’s winter is not like her spring, and her summer is not like her autumn….

  Then Gibran went on discussing his book Tears and Laughter whose dialogue May had criticized and enquired of its author what prompted him to write such a childish work, to which Gibran bravely answered:

  … Now let us discuss Tears And Laughter for a moment. I am not afraid to tell you that this came out before the World War. At that time I sent you a copy and never heard from you whether you received it or not. The articles in Tears And Laughter were the first ones that I wrote in series and published them in Almuhager sixteen years ago. Nasseeb Arida (may Allah forgive him) was the one who collected these articles, to which he added two more which I wrote in Paris, and published them in one book. During my childhood and the days of my youth, before the writings of Tears And Laughter, I wrote enough prose and poetry to fill many volumes, but I did not, and shall not, commit the crime of having them published.

  GIBRAN

  As the name of Kahlil Gibran was, and still is, dear to every Lebanese heart or Arabic-speaking person, so the name of Mikhail Naimay today is dear to the hearts of the sons and daughters of Lebanon.

  Naimy, who is a leading literary figure in Lebanon and the Middle East, lives in seclusion in his home town, Biskinta, near Mount Sunnin in Lebanon. While in New York, Naimy and Gibran were inseparable friends, and it was to Naimy that Gibran complained and entrusted his secrets. Even on his deathbed Gibran called for Naimy, who came to stay with him at the hospital until he breathed his last.

  Born in Biskinta, Lebanon, Mikhail Naimy received his early education at a parochial school conducted by the Imperial Russian Palestine Society. In 1906 he was granted a scholarship to the Seminary of Poltava in the Ukraine, where he made an extensive study of the Russian language in which he wrote poems and treatises that were widely admired. In 1916 Naimy received two degress from the University of Washington. He wrote and published in Arabic many critical articles and stories while at the University. In 1916 he decided that the Arabic literary circle in New York, with the great Arabic writers, Ameen Rihani, Kahlil Gibran, Nassib Arida, and others, was to be his field.

  In World War I, he served at the front with the AEF. After his honorable discharge in 1919 he returned to his literary career. In 1932 at the height of his fame he decided to return to Lebanon.

  Among the works he published are Two Generations, a popular play; The Cribble, a series of critical essays; Stages, dealing with inner and outer life; Once Upon a Time, a collection of short stories; Food for the Godward Journey, his famous discourses; Eyelid Whisperings, philosophical poems; Encounter, a novel; Threshing Floor and Light and Darkness, philosophical contemplations; The Memoirs of a Pitted Face, a self-portrait of a bizarre personality; Vineyard by the Road, sayings and parables; PresentDay Idols, an analytical essay; The World’s Voice, thoughts and meditations of life; The Book of Mirdad, a book for seekers after spiritual emancipation.

  In his letters Kahlil Gibran addresses Mikhail Naimy sometimes as “Dear Meesha”—a diminutive for Mikhail. The long trip that Gibran refers to in the following letter w
as one of his usual trips to Boston where his sister Miriana lived. He also refers to Al-Funoon, an Arabic magazine which Gibran started, but which did not last long.

  TO MIKHAIL NAIMY

  New York,

  Sept. 14, 1919

  Dear Mikhail:

  May God’s peace be upon you. I have returned from my long trip and met with our brother Nasseeb and had a long discussion with him about reviving Al-Funoon, and the ways and means of securing its future. I interviewed many educated and half-educated people in Boston and New York regarding this matter, but all of the talks stopped at a certain point. The point is this: Nasseeb Arida cannot take the responsibility alone. It is necessary that Mikhail Naimy return to New York and join Nasseeb in the project and put it on a working basis before the intelligentsia and the merchants of New York. By having these two men working together, the confidence of the Syrian people may be gained; for one alone cannot win. An entertainment should be given in New York, and the proceeds would go to the magazine. How can the entertainment be a success when the man who is capable of obtaining speakers and musicians is in Washington? A committee should be formed to start the work. The treasurer must be known to the Syrians in other states who will ask themselves a thousand and one questions before they answer the circular. But who else other than Mikhail Naimy is capable of forming this committee?

  There are numerous things, Mikhail, that begin and end with you each time we discuss the subject of Al-Funoon. If you wish to revive the magazine, you should come to New York and be the trigger behind every move. Nasseeb is unable to do anything at present, and of all the admirers and well-wishers of Al-Funoon in New York, there is no one who is capable of taking the responsibility upon himself. It is my belief that five thousand dollars would be sufficient to guarantee the future of the magazine. However, I presume that a circular without the entertainment would not bring half of the proposed amount. In short, the success of the project depends upon your presence in New York. If your return to New York means a sacrifice on your part, that sacrifice must be considered as placing that which is dear, and offering the important upon the altar of that which is more important. To me the dearest thing in your life is the realization of your dreams, and the most important thing is the reaping of the fruit of your talents.

  Write me if you will; and may God protect you for your brother

  GIBRAN

  Emil Zaidan was an outstanding scholar and well known throughout the Arabic-speaking world for his great works in the field of Arabic literature. Being a Lebanese and owner and editor of one of the best Arabic magazines in Egypt, he admired Gibran and looked upon him as a genius. He devoted many pages to him in his monthly magazine Al-Hilal, the Crescent. It was through this magazine and many others that Gibran won fame and became known as poet, artist, and philosopher.

  In the following letter to his friend Zaidan, Gibran speaks of the circumstances that made it necessary for him to work ten hours a day despite his doctor’s orders that he work no more than five. Gibran at that time was working on several projects that required many hours of daily work. He tells his friend that there is nothing more difficult than the existence of a strong spirit in a weak body.

  TO EMIL ZAIDAN

  1919

  My Brother Emil:

  … My health is better now than it used to be. Yet it is still like a violin with broken strings. What is bothering me most now is that circumstances have placed me in a position that require of me ten hours of daily work while I am forbidden to spend more than four or five hours writing or painting. There is nothing more difficult than the existence of a strong spirit in a weak body. I feel—I am not modest—that I am just at the beginning of a mountain road. The twenty years which I have spent as a writer and painter were but an era of preparation and desire. Up to the present time I have not yet done anything worthy of remaining before the face of the sun. My ideas have not ripened yet, and my net is still submerged in water.

  GIBRAN

  In this letter Gibran mentions his two friends, AbdulMasseh and Nasseeb Arida. The former was the owner and editor of As-Sayeh, an Arabic newspaper published in New York, and the latter was a famous poet and owner and editor of Al-Akhlak, the Character, a monthly magazine published also in New York. Both Abdul-Masseh and Nasseeb were members of Arrabitah, a literary circle limited in membership to ten or thirteen, organized in New York with Gibran as president and Mikhail Naimy as secretary. Other members of Arrabitah were Catzeflis, an intimate of Gibran and an essayist of recognized accomplishments in the field of Arabian thought and literature, Ayoub, Hawie, Rihani, Abu-Mady, Nadra, Alkazin, Bahut, Atalla. Each one of these pioneers from Syria or Lebanon made a worthy contribution to poetry and literature. Gibran was the first of eight now dead. Arrabitah brought about a real renaissance in modern Arabic literature. Many books in Arabic have already been written about it, and many more will be written.

  TO MIKHAIL NAIMY

  Boston, 1920

  My Brother Mikhail:

  Peace be unto you and unto your big heart and pure soul. I would like to know how you are and where you are. Are you in the forest of your dreams or in the knolls and hills of your thoughts? Or are you on the top of that mountain where all dreams turn into one vision, and all thoughts into a single ambition? Tell me where you are, Mikhail.

  As to myself, I am, between my confounded health and the will of the people, like an out-of-tune musical instrument in the hands of a giant who plays on it strange melodies devoid of harmony. God help me, Mikhail, with those Americans! May God take both of us away from them to the placid valleys of Lebanon.

  I have just mailed to Abdul-Masseh a short article for publication. Examine it, brother, and if it is not fit for publishing, tell Abdul-Masseh to keep it for me in an obscure corner until I return.

  This article was written between midnight and dawn, and I do not know whether it is good or not. But the basic idea in it is not strange to the subject matter we discuss during our evening gathering. Tell me, how is Nasseeb and where is he? Each time I think of you and him, I feel peaceful, calm and enchantingly tranquil, and I say to myself, “Nothing is vanity under the sun.”

  A thousand greetings and salaams to our brethren in the spirit of truth. May God protect you and watch over you, and keep you a dear brother to your brother

  GIBRAN

  When Gibran published his Arabic book The Tempest in 1920, Naimy came out with an article praising the author and the outstanding works included in the volume.

  TO MIKHAIL NAIMY

  Boston, 1920

  Brother Mikhail:

  I have just read your article on The Tempest. What shall I say to you, Mikhail?

  You have put between your eyes and the pages of my book a magnifying glass which made them appear greater than they really are. This made me feel ashamed of myself. You have placed, through your article, a great responsibility upon me. Will I ever be able to live up to it? Will I be able to vindicate the basic thought in the vision you have revealed of me? It seems to me that you wrote that wonderful article while looking upon my future, and not upon my past. For my past has consisted only of threads, not woven. It has also been stones of various sizes and shapes, but not a structure. I could see you looking upon me with the eye of hope, not of criticism, which makes me regret much of my past and at the same time dream about my future with a new enthusiasm in my heart. If that was what you wanted to do for me, you have succeeded, Mikhail.

  I liked the stationery for Arrabitah very much, but the motto “To God many a treasure beneath the throne, etc.” should be more obvious. The printing of the names of the officers and members is necessary if we wish to create the desired result. Everyone looking at a missive from Arrabitah would wonder who the members of Arrabitah are. However, I prefer that the names be printed in the smallest Arabic type.

  I am sorry, Mikhail, that I shall not return to New York before the middle of next week, for I am tied up with some important problems in this abominable city. What shall
I do? You all go to Milford, and replenish your cups with the wine of the spirit and the wine of the grapes, but do not forget your loving brother who is longing to see you

  GIBRAN

  In the following letter Gibran speaks of the meeting he and other members of Arrabitah had at the home of Rasheed Ayoub. Plans had been made at the meeting for the publication of the Anthology of Arrabitah, an Arabic book containing a history of the literary organization as well as a collection of stories, articles, and poems written by its members.

  Gibran refers to Barren and Memoirs of a Pitted Face. These were manuscripts of Mikhail Naimy, who had asked Gibran to inquire of Nasseeb Aribda as to their whereabouts.

  The word inshallah means “God willing.”

  TO MIKHAIL NAIMY

  New York,

  October 8, 1920

  Dear Mikhail:

  Each time I think of you traveling as a salesman in the interior for a business firm, I feel somehow hurt. Yet I know that this pain is the residue of an old philosophy. Today I believe in Life and in all that she brings upon us, and I confirm that all that the days and nights bring is good, and beautiful and useful.

  We met last night at Rasheed’s home, and we drank and ate and listened to songs and poetry. But our evening was not complete because you were not with us in person.

  The materials for the Anthology of Arrabitah are all ready, if only in spirit! And they are all arranged, but only in words. When I ask for something from any of our brethren, he answers me saying, “In two days” or “At the end of this week,” or “Next week.” The philosophy of postponement, which is oriental, almost chokes me. And the strange thing about it, Meesha, is that some people consider coquettishness as a sign of intelligence!