Kahlil Gibran

In my youth I was told that in a certain city every one lived according to the Scriptures. And I said, “I will seek that city and the blessedness thereof.” And it was far.  And I made great provision for my journey.  And after forty days I beheld the city and on the forty-first day I entered into it. And lo! the whole company of the inhabitants had each but a single eye and but one hand.  And I was astonished and said to myself, “Shall they of this so holy city have but one eye and one hand?” Then I saw that they too were astonished, for they were marveling greatly at my two hands and my two eyes.  And as they were speaking together I inquired of them saying, “Is this indeed the Blessed City, where each man lives according to the Scriptures?”  And they said, “Yes, this is that city.” “And what,” said I, “hath befallen you, and where are your right eyes and your right hands?” And all the people were moved.  And they said, “Come thou and see.” And they took me to the temple in the midst of the city.  And in the temple I saw a heap of hands and eyes.  All withered.  Then said I, “Alas! what conqueror hath committed this cruelty upon you?” And there went a murmur amongst them.  And one of their elders stood forth and said, “This doing is of ourselves.  God hath made us conquerors over the evil that was in us.” And he led me to a high altar, and all the people followed.  And he showed me above the altar an inscription graven, and I read: “If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that the whole body should be cast into hell.  And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee; for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.” Then I understood.  And I turned about to all the people and cried, “Hath no man or woman among you two eyes or two hands?” And they answered me saying, “No, not one.  There is none whole save such as are yet too young to read the Scripture and to understand its commandment.” And when we had come out of the temple, I straightway left that Blessed City; for I was not too young, and I could read the scripture.

In the shadow of the temple my friend and I saw a blind man sitting alone.  And my friend said, “Behold the wisest man of our land.” Then I left my friend and approached the blind man and greeted him. And we conversed. After a while I said, “Forgive my question; but since when has thou been blind?” “From my birth,” he answered. Said I, “And what path of wisdom followest thou?” Said he, “I am an astronomer.” Then he placed his hand upon his breast saying, “I watch all these suns and moons and stars.”

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.

Three men met at a tavern table.  One was a weaver, another a carpenter and the third a ploughman. Said the weaver, “I sold a fine linen shroud today for two pieces of gold.  Let us have all the wine we want.” “And I,” said the carpenter, “I sold my best coffin.  We will have a great roast with the wine.” “I only dug a grave,” said the ploughman, “but my patron paid me double.  Let us have honey cakes too.” And all that evening the tavern was busy, for they called often for wine and meat and cakes.  And they were merry. And the host rubbed his hands and smiled at his wife; for his guests were spending freely. When they left the moon was high, and they walked along the road singing and shouting together. The host and his wife stood in the tavern door and looked after them. “Ah!” said the wife, “these gentlemen!  So freehanded and so gay! If only they could bring us such luck every day!  Then our son need not be a tavern-keeper and work so hard.  We could educate him, and he could become a priest.”