Online Read Free Novel
  • Home
  • Romance & Love
  • Fantasy
  • Science Fiction
  • Mystery & Detective
  • Thrillers & Crime
  • Actions & Adventure
  • History & Fiction
  • Horror
  • Western
  • Humor

    Between Night and Morn

    Page 6
    Prev Next


      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

      180 Varick Street

      New York, NY 10014

      www.openroadmedia.com

      EBOOKS BY KAHLIL GIBRAN

      FROM OPEN ROAD MEDIA

      Available wherever ebooks are sold

      FIND OUT MORE AT WWW.OPENROADMEDIA.COM

      FOLLOW US: @openroadmedia and Facebook.com/OpenRoadMedia

      Videos, Archival Documents,

      and New Releases

      Sign up for the Open Road Media

      newsletter and get news delivered

      straight to your inbox.

      FOLLOW US:

      @openroadmedia and

      Facebook.com/OpenRoadMedia

      SIGN UP NOW at

      www.openroadmedia.com/newsletters

     

     

     



    Prev Next
Online Read Free Novel Copyright 2016 - 2026