And when I sing my songs my
neighbours
come not to listen.
Khalil Gibran - Poems
For one of them denied
the existence of the gods and the other was a believer.
One day the two met in the marketplace, and amidst their followers
they began to dispute and to argue about the existence or the
non-existence of the gods. And after hours of contention they
parted.
That evening the unbeliever went to the temple and prostrated himself
before the altar and prayed the gods to forgive his wayward past.
And the same hour the other learned man, he who had upheld the
gods, burned his sacred books. For he had become an unbeliever.
When My Sorrow Was Born
When my Sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it
with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful
and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world
about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with
Sorrow.
And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and
our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent
tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.
And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors sat at
their windows and listened; for our songs were deep as the sea and
our melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us
with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness.
And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was
a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to
muse and ponder.
And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, "See, there lies
the man whose Sorrow is dead. "
And When my Joy was Born
And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the
house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy
this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that
laugheth in the sun. "
But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was
my astonishment.
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the
house-top--and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone,
unsought and unvisited.
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine
held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.
Then my Joy died of isolation.
And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my dead Sorrow.
But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and
then is heard no more.
"The Perfect World"
God of lost souls, thou who are lost amongst the gods, hear me:
Gentle Destiny that watchest over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear
me:
I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.
I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst
finished worlds--peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose
thoughts are assorted, whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions
are enrolled and registered.
Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and
even the countless things that pass in the dim twilight of neither
sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.
Here days and night are divided into seasons of conduct and governed
by rules of blameless accuracy.
the existence of the gods and the other was a believer.
One day the two met in the marketplace, and amidst their followers
they began to dispute and to argue about the existence or the
non-existence of the gods. And after hours of contention they
parted.
That evening the unbeliever went to the temple and prostrated himself
before the altar and prayed the gods to forgive his wayward past.
And the same hour the other learned man, he who had upheld the
gods, burned his sacred books. For he had become an unbeliever.
When My Sorrow Was Born
When my Sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it
with loving tenderness.
And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful
and full of wondrous delights.
And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world
about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with
Sorrow.
And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and
our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent
tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.
And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors sat at
their windows and listened; for our songs were deep as the sea and
our melodies were full of strange memories.
And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us
with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness.
And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was
a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.
But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to
muse and ponder.
And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.
Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, "See, there lies
the man whose Sorrow is dead. "
And When my Joy was Born
And when my Joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the
house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy
this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that
laugheth in the sun. "
But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was
my astonishment.
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the
house-top--and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone,
unsought and unvisited.
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine
held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.
Then my Joy died of isolation.
And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my dead Sorrow.
But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and
then is heard no more.
"The Perfect World"
God of lost souls, thou who are lost amongst the gods, hear me:
Gentle Destiny that watchest over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear
me:
I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.
I, a human chaos, a nebula of confused elements, I move amongst
finished worlds--peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose
thoughts are assorted, whose dreams are arranged, and whose visions
are enrolled and registered.
Their virtues, O God, are measured, their sins are weighed, and
even the countless things that pass in the dim twilight of neither
sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.
Here days and night are divided into seasons of conduct and governed
by rules of blameless accuracy.