And after a thousand years I ascended the holy
mountain
and again
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation.
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation.
Khalil Gibran - Poems
?
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Madman, by Khalil Gibran
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Title: The Madman
Author: Khalil Gibran
Posting Date: July 2, 2011 [EBook #5616]
Release Date: May, 2004
[This file was first posted on July 22, 2002]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MADMAN ***
Produced by William Fishburne
The Madman
His Parables and Poems
By Kahlil Gibran
You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in
seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
"Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves. "
Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear
of me.
And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top
cried, "He is a madman. " I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed
my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for
the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I
cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks. "
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in
us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail
is safe from another thief.
God
In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips,
I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, "Master,
I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee
for ever more. "
But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay
hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all. "
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed
away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son. In pity and love
thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall
inherit thy kingdom. "
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant
hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "My God, my aim and my fulfillment; I am
thy yesterday and thou are my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth
and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the
face of the sun. "
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there
also.
My Friend
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear--a
care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee
from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and
therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I
do--for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my
deeds thy own hopes in action.
When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward," I say, "Aye it doth
blow eastward"; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth
not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.
Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have
thee understand. I would be at sea alone.
When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even
then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of
the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou
canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating
against the stars--and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I
would be with night alone.
When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell--even then
thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my
comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion"--for
I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight
and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too
well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.
Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake
say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart
I laught at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.
I would laugh alone.
My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art
perfect--and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And
yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.
My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee
understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand
in hand.
The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field. "
And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it. "
Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have
known that joy. "
Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it. "
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: "At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you! "
And the daughter spoke, and she said: "O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead! "
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, "Is that you, darling? " And the daughter answered gently,
"Yes, dear. "
The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, "Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice. "
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, "O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones. "
The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, "It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions. "
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, "It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it," and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, "We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine. "
Then the older hermit said, "Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided. "
And the younger one said, "If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot. "
But the older hermit said again, "I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided. "
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, "If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl. "
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight. "
On Giving and Taking
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle? "
And he gave her not a needle, but he gave her a learned discourse
on Giving and Taking to carry to her son before he should go to
the temple.
The Seven Selves
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter
and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance
his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary
existence.
Why would you rebel?
He rebels because he can bear his fate no longer.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self
who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is
I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell,
who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to
fulfill. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined
lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits
in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating
life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with
pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper
one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy
submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness,
which is behind all things.
War
One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, "What has
befallen you? " And the man replied, "O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver. "
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary. "
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
The Fox
A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, "I will have
a camel for lunch today. " And all morning he went about looking
for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again--and he said, "A
mouse will do. "
The Wise King
Once there ruled in the distant city of Wirani a king who was both
mighty and wise. And he was feared for his might and loved for
his wisdom.
Now, in the heart of that city was a well, whose water was cool and
crystalline, from which all the inhabitants drank, even the king
and his courtiers; for there was no other well.
One night when all were asleep, a witch entered the city, and poured
seven drops of strange liquid into the well, and said, "From this
hour he who drinks this water shall become mad. "
Next morning all the inhabitants, save the king and his lord
chamberlain, drank from the well and became mad, even as the witch
had foretold.
And during that day the people in the narrow streets and in the
market places did naught but whisper to one another, "The king is
mad. Our king and his lord chamberlain have lost their reason.
Surely we cannot be ruled by a mad king. We must dethrone him. "
That evening the king ordered a golden goblet to be filled from the
well. And when it was brought to him he drank deeply, and gave it
to his lord chamberlain to drink.
And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani,
because its king and its lord chamberlain had regained their reason.
Ambition
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. "
The New Pleasure
Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the
first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They
met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created
pleasure; the one crying, "It is a sin! "--the other, "It is a
virtue! "
The Other Language
Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silken cradle, gazing
with astonished dismay on the new world round about me, my mother
spoke to the wet-nurse, saying, "How does my child? "
And the wet-nurse answered, "He does well, Madame, I have fed him
three times; and never before have I seen a babe so young yet so
gay. "
And I was indignant; and I cried, "It is not true, mother; for
my bed is hard, and the milk I have sucked is bitter to my mouth,
and the odour of the breast is foul in my nostrils, and I am most
miserable. "
But my mother did not understand, nor did the nurse; for the language
I spoke was that of the world from which I came.
And on the twenty-first day of my life, as I was being christened,
the priest said to my mother, "You should indeed by happy, Madame,
that your son was born a Christian. "
And I was surprised,--and I said to the priest, "Then your mother
in Heaven should be unhappy, for you were not born a Christian. "
But the priest too did not understand my language.
And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and he
said to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leader
of men. "
But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a musician shall I be. "
But even at that age my language was not understood--and great was
my astonishment.
And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and the
nurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be upon
their spirits) the soothsayer still lives. And yesterday I met him
near the gates of the temple; and while we were talking together
he said, "I have always known you would become a great musician.
Even in your infancy I prophesied and foretold your future. "
And I believed him--for now I too have forgotten the language of
that other world.
The Pomegranate
Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed
saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in
my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be
strong and beautiful through all the seasons. "
Then another seed spoke and said, "When I was as young as you, I
too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things,
I see that my hopes were vain. "
And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that promises so
great a future. "
And a fourth said, "But what a mockery our life would be, without
a greater future! "
Said a fifth, "Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even
what we are. "
But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall continue to
be. "
And a seventh said, "I have such a clear idea how everything will
be, but I cannot put it into words. "
Then an eight spoke--and a ninth--and a tenth--and then many--until
all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many
voices.
And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the
seeds are few and almost silent.
The Two Cages
In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which
my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other
is a songless sparrow.
Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, "Good morrow to
thee, brother prisoner. "
The Three Ants
Three ants met on the nose of a man who was asleep in the sun. And
after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
The first ant said, "These hills and plains are the most barren I
have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found. "
Said the second ant, "I too have found nothing, though I have
visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people
call the soft, moving land where nothing grows. "
Then the third ant raised his head and said, "My friends, we are
standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite
Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow
is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we
cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent. "
When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other
and laughed.
At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and
scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay
hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all. "
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed
away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son. In pity and love
thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall
inherit thy kingdom. "
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant
hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "My God, my aim and my fulfillment; I am
thy yesterday and thou are my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth
and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the
face of the sun. "
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there
also.
My Friend
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear--a
care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee
from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and
therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I
do--for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my
deeds thy own hopes in action.
When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward," I say, "Aye it doth
blow eastward"; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth
not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.
Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have
thee understand. I would be at sea alone.
When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even
then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of
the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou
canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating
against the stars--and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I
would be with night alone.
When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell--even then
thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my
comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion"--for
I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight
and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too
well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.
Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake
say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart
I laught at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.
I would laugh alone.
My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art
perfect--and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And
yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.
My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee
understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand
in hand.
The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field. "
And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it. "
Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have
known that joy. "
Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it. "
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: "At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you! "
And the daughter spoke, and she said: "O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead! "
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, "Is that you, darling? " And the daughter answered gently,
"Yes, dear. "
The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, "Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice. "
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, "O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones. "
The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, "It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions. "
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, "It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it," and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, "We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine. "
Then the older hermit said, "Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided. "
And the younger one said, "If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot. "
But the older hermit said again, "I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided. "
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, "If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl. "
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight. "
On Giving and Taking
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle? "
And he gave her not a needle, but he gave her a learned discourse
on Giving and Taking to carry to her son before he should go to
the temple.
The Seven Selves
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter
and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance
his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary
existence.
Why would you rebel?
He rebels because he can bear his fate no longer.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self
who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is
I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell,
who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to
fulfill. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined
lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits
in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating
life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with
pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper
one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy
submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness,
which is behind all things.
War
One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, "What has
befallen you? " And the man replied, "O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver. "
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary. "
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
The Fox
A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, "I will have
a camel for lunch today. " And all morning he went about looking
for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again--and he said, "A
mouse will do. "
The Wise King
Once there ruled in the distant city of Wirani a king who was both
mighty and wise. And he was feared for his might and loved for
his wisdom.
Now, in the heart of that city was a well, whose water was cool and
crystalline, from which all the inhabitants drank, even the king
and his courtiers; for there was no other well.
One night when all were asleep, a witch entered the city, and poured
seven drops of strange liquid into the well, and said, "From this
hour he who drinks this water shall become mad. "
Next morning all the inhabitants, save the king and his lord
chamberlain, drank from the well and became mad, even as the witch
had foretold.
And during that day the people in the narrow streets and in the
market places did naught but whisper to one another, "The king is
mad. Our king and his lord chamberlain have lost their reason.
Surely we cannot be ruled by a mad king. We must dethrone him. "
That evening the king ordered a golden goblet to be filled from the
well. And when it was brought to him he drank deeply, and gave it
to his lord chamberlain to drink.
And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani,
because its king and its lord chamberlain had regained their reason.
Ambition
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. "
The New Pleasure
Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the
first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They
met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created
pleasure; the one crying, "It is a sin! "--the other, "It is a
virtue! "
The Other Language
Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silken cradle, gazing
with astonished dismay on the new world round about me, my mother
spoke to the wet-nurse, saying, "How does my child? "
And the wet-nurse answered, "He does well, Madame, I have fed him
three times; and never before have I seen a babe so young yet so
gay. "
And I was indignant; and I cried, "It is not true, mother; for
my bed is hard, and the milk I have sucked is bitter to my mouth,
and the odour of the breast is foul in my nostrils, and I am most
miserable. "
But my mother did not understand, nor did the nurse; for the language
I spoke was that of the world from which I came.
And on the twenty-first day of my life, as I was being christened,
the priest said to my mother, "You should indeed by happy, Madame,
that your son was born a Christian. "
And I was surprised,--and I said to the priest, "Then your mother
in Heaven should be unhappy, for you were not born a Christian. "
But the priest too did not understand my language.
And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and he
said to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leader
of men. "
But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a musician shall I be. "
But even at that age my language was not understood--and great was
my astonishment.
And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and the
nurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be upon
their spirits) the soothsayer still lives. And yesterday I met him
near the gates of the temple; and while we were talking together
he said, "I have always known you would become a great musician.
Even in your infancy I prophesied and foretold your future. "
And I believed him--for now I too have forgotten the language of
that other world.
The Pomegranate
Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed
saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in
my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be
strong and beautiful through all the seasons. "
Then another seed spoke and said, "When I was as young as you, I
too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things,
I see that my hopes were vain. "
And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that promises so
great a future. "
And a fourth said, "But what a mockery our life would be, without
a greater future! "
Said a fifth, "Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even
what we are. "
But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall continue to
be. "
And a seventh said, "I have such a clear idea how everything will
be, but I cannot put it into words. "
Then an eight spoke--and a ninth--and a tenth--and then many--until
all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many
voices.
And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the
seeds are few and almost silent.
The Two Cages
In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which
my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other
is a songless sparrow.
Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, "Good morrow to
thee, brother prisoner. "
The Three Ants
Three ants met on the nose of a man who was asleep in the sun. And
after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
The first ant said, "These hills and plains are the most barren I
have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found. "
Said the second ant, "I too have found nothing, though I have
visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people
call the soft, moving land where nothing grows. "
Then the third ant raised his head and said, "My friends, we are
standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite
Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow
is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we
cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent. "
When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other
and laughed.
At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and
scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.
The Grave-Digger
Once, as I was burying one of my dead selves, the grave-digger came
by and said to me, "Of all those who come here to bury, you alone
I like. "
Said I, "You please me exceedingly, but why do you like me? "
"Because," said he, "They come weeping and go weeping--you only
come laughing and go laughing. "
On the Steps of the Temple
Yestereve, on the marble steps of the Temple, I saw a woman sitting
between two men. One side of her face was pale, the other was
blushing.
The Blessed City
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.
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
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Title: The Madman
Author: Khalil Gibran
Posting Date: July 2, 2011 [EBook #5616]
Release Date: May, 2004
[This file was first posted on July 22, 2002]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MADMAN ***
Produced by William Fishburne
The Madman
His Parables and Poems
By Kahlil Gibran
You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long
before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all
my masks were stolen,--the seven masks I have fashioned and worn in
seven lives,--I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,
"Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves. "
Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear
of me.
And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top
cried, "He is a madman. " I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed
my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun
kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for
the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I
cried, "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks. "
Thus I became a madman.
And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from
being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in
us.
But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail
is safe from another thief.
God
In the ancient days, when the first quiver of speech came to my lips,
I ascended the holy mountain and spoke unto God, saying, "Master,
I am thy slave. Thy hidden will is my law and I shall obey thee
for ever more. "
But God made no answer, and like a mighty tempest passed away.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay
hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all. "
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed
away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son. In pity and love
thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall
inherit thy kingdom. "
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant
hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "My God, my aim and my fulfillment; I am
thy yesterday and thou are my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth
and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the
face of the sun. "
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there
also.
My Friend
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear--a
care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee
from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and
therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I
do--for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my
deeds thy own hopes in action.
When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward," I say, "Aye it doth
blow eastward"; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth
not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.
Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have
thee understand. I would be at sea alone.
When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even
then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of
the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou
canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating
against the stars--and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I
would be with night alone.
When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell--even then
thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my
comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion"--for
I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight
and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too
well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.
Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake
say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart
I laught at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.
I would laugh alone.
My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art
perfect--and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And
yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.
My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee
understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand
in hand.
The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field. "
And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it. "
Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have
known that joy. "
Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it. "
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: "At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you! "
And the daughter spoke, and she said: "O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead! "
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, "Is that you, darling? " And the daughter answered gently,
"Yes, dear. "
The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, "Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice. "
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, "O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones. "
The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, "It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions. "
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, "It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it," and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, "We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine. "
Then the older hermit said, "Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided. "
And the younger one said, "If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot. "
But the older hermit said again, "I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided. "
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, "If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl. "
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight. "
On Giving and Taking
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle? "
And he gave her not a needle, but he gave her a learned discourse
on Giving and Taking to carry to her son before he should go to
the temple.
The Seven Selves
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter
and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance
his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary
existence.
Why would you rebel?
He rebels because he can bear his fate no longer.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self
who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is
I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell,
who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to
fulfill. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined
lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits
in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating
life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with
pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper
one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy
submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness,
which is behind all things.
War
One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, "What has
befallen you? " And the man replied, "O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver. "
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary. "
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
The Fox
A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, "I will have
a camel for lunch today. " And all morning he went about looking
for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again--and he said, "A
mouse will do. "
The Wise King
Once there ruled in the distant city of Wirani a king who was both
mighty and wise. And he was feared for his might and loved for
his wisdom.
Now, in the heart of that city was a well, whose water was cool and
crystalline, from which all the inhabitants drank, even the king
and his courtiers; for there was no other well.
One night when all were asleep, a witch entered the city, and poured
seven drops of strange liquid into the well, and said, "From this
hour he who drinks this water shall become mad. "
Next morning all the inhabitants, save the king and his lord
chamberlain, drank from the well and became mad, even as the witch
had foretold.
And during that day the people in the narrow streets and in the
market places did naught but whisper to one another, "The king is
mad. Our king and his lord chamberlain have lost their reason.
Surely we cannot be ruled by a mad king. We must dethrone him. "
That evening the king ordered a golden goblet to be filled from the
well. And when it was brought to him he drank deeply, and gave it
to his lord chamberlain to drink.
And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani,
because its king and its lord chamberlain had regained their reason.
Ambition
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. "
The New Pleasure
Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the
first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They
met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created
pleasure; the one crying, "It is a sin! "--the other, "It is a
virtue! "
The Other Language
Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silken cradle, gazing
with astonished dismay on the new world round about me, my mother
spoke to the wet-nurse, saying, "How does my child? "
And the wet-nurse answered, "He does well, Madame, I have fed him
three times; and never before have I seen a babe so young yet so
gay. "
And I was indignant; and I cried, "It is not true, mother; for
my bed is hard, and the milk I have sucked is bitter to my mouth,
and the odour of the breast is foul in my nostrils, and I am most
miserable. "
But my mother did not understand, nor did the nurse; for the language
I spoke was that of the world from which I came.
And on the twenty-first day of my life, as I was being christened,
the priest said to my mother, "You should indeed by happy, Madame,
that your son was born a Christian. "
And I was surprised,--and I said to the priest, "Then your mother
in Heaven should be unhappy, for you were not born a Christian. "
But the priest too did not understand my language.
And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and he
said to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leader
of men. "
But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a musician shall I be. "
But even at that age my language was not understood--and great was
my astonishment.
And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and the
nurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be upon
their spirits) the soothsayer still lives. And yesterday I met him
near the gates of the temple; and while we were talking together
he said, "I have always known you would become a great musician.
Even in your infancy I prophesied and foretold your future. "
And I believed him--for now I too have forgotten the language of
that other world.
The Pomegranate
Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed
saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in
my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be
strong and beautiful through all the seasons. "
Then another seed spoke and said, "When I was as young as you, I
too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things,
I see that my hopes were vain. "
And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that promises so
great a future. "
And a fourth said, "But what a mockery our life would be, without
a greater future! "
Said a fifth, "Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even
what we are. "
But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall continue to
be. "
And a seventh said, "I have such a clear idea how everything will
be, but I cannot put it into words. "
Then an eight spoke--and a ninth--and a tenth--and then many--until
all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many
voices.
And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the
seeds are few and almost silent.
The Two Cages
In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which
my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other
is a songless sparrow.
Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, "Good morrow to
thee, brother prisoner. "
The Three Ants
Three ants met on the nose of a man who was asleep in the sun. And
after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
The first ant said, "These hills and plains are the most barren I
have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found. "
Said the second ant, "I too have found nothing, though I have
visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people
call the soft, moving land where nothing grows. "
Then the third ant raised his head and said, "My friends, we are
standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite
Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow
is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we
cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent. "
When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other
and laughed.
At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and
scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.
And after a thousand years I ascended the holy mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "Creator, I am thy creation. Out of clay
hast thou fashioned me and to thee I owe mine all. "
And God made no answer, but like a thousand swift wings passed
away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son. In pity and love
thou hast given me birth, and through love and worship I shall
inherit thy kingdom. "
And God made no answer, and like the mist that veils the distant
hills he passed away.
And after a thousand years I climbed the sacred mountain and again
spoke unto God, saying, "My God, my aim and my fulfillment; I am
thy yesterday and thou are my tomorrow. I am thy root in the earth
and thou art my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the
face of the sun. "
Then God leaned over me, and in my ears whispered words of sweetness,
and even as the sea that enfoldeth a brook that runneth down to
her, he enfolded me.
And when I descended to the valleys and the plains God was there
also.
My Friend
My friend, I am not what I seem. Seeming is but a garment I wear--a
care-woven garment that protects me from thy questionings and thee
from my negligence.
The "I" in me, my friend, dwells in the house of silence, and
therein it shall remain for ever more, unperceived, unapproachable.
I would not have thee believe in what I say nor trust in what I
do--for my words are naught but thy own thoughts in sound and my
deeds thy own hopes in action.
When thou sayest, "The wind bloweth eastward," I say, "Aye it doth
blow eastward"; for I would not have thee know that my mind doth
not dwell upon the wind but upon the sea.
Thou canst not understand my seafaring thoughts, nor would I have
thee understand. I would be at sea alone.
When it is day with thee, my friend, it is night with me; yet even
then I speak of the noontide that dances upon the hills and of
the purple shadow that steals its way across the valley; for thou
canst not hear the songs of my darkness nor see my wings beating
against the stars--and I fain would not have thee hear or see. I
would be with night alone.
When thou ascendest to thy Heaven I descend to my Hell--even then
thou callest to me across the unbridgeable gulf, "My companion, my
comrade," and I call back to thee, "My comrade, my companion"--for
I would not have thee see my Hell. The flame would burn thy eyesight
and the smoke would crowd thy nostrils. And I love my Hell too
well to have thee visit it. I would be in Hell alone.
Thou lovest Truth and Beauty and Righteousness; and I for thy sake
say it is well and seemly to love these things. But in my heart
I laught at thy love. Yet I would not have thee see my laughter.
I would laugh alone.
My friend, thou art good and cautious and wise; nay, thou art
perfect--and I, too, speak with thee wisely and cautiously. And
yet I am mad. But I mask my madness. I would be mad alone.
My friend, thou art not my friend, but how shall I make thee
understand? My path is not thy path, yet together we walk, hand
in hand.
The Scarecrow
Once I said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this
lonely field. "
And he said, "The joy of scaring is a deep and lasting one, and I
never tire of it. "
Said I, after a minute of thought, "It is true; for I too have
known that joy. "
Said he, "Only those who are stuffed with straw can know it. "
Then I left him, not knowing whether he had complimented or belittled
me.
A year passed, during which the scarecrow turned philosopher.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows building a nest
under his hat.
The Sleep-Walkers
In the town where I was born lived a woman and her daughter, who
walked in their sleep.
One night, while silence enfolded the world, the woman and her
daughter, walking, yet asleep, met in their mist-veiled garden.
And the mother spoke, and she said: "At last, at last, my enemy!
You by whom my youth was destroyed--who have built up your life
upon the ruins of mine! Would I could kill you! "
And the daughter spoke, and she said: "O hateful woman, selfish
and old! Who stand between my freer self and me! Who would have
my life an echo of your own faded life! Would you were dead! "
At that moment a cock crew, and both women awoke. The mother said
gently, "Is that you, darling? " And the daughter answered gently,
"Yes, dear. "
The Wise Dog
One day there passed by a company of cats a wise dog.
And as he came near and saw that they were very intent and heeded
him not, he stopped.
Then there arose in the midst of the company a large, grave cat and
looked upon them and said, "Brethren, pray ye; and when ye have
prayed again and yet again, nothing doubting, verily then it shall
rain mice. "
And when the dog heard this he laughed in his heart and turned from
them saying, "O blind and foolish cats, has it not been written and
have I not known and my fathers before me, that that which raineth
for prayer and faith and supplication is not mice but bones. "
The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, "It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions. "
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, "It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it," and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, "We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine. "
Then the older hermit said, "Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided. "
And the younger one said, "If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot. "
But the older hermit said again, "I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided. "
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, "If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl. "
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight. "
On Giving and Taking
Once there lived a man who had a valley-full of needles. And one
day the mother of Jesus came to him and said: "Friend, my son's
garment is torn and I must needs mend it before he goeth to the
temple. Wouldst thou not give me a needle? "
And he gave her not a needle, but he gave her a learned discourse
on Giving and Taking to carry to her son before he should go to
the temple.
The Seven Selves
In the stillest hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven
selves sat together and thus conversed in whisper:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years,
with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow
by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is
given to me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter
and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance
his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary
existence.
Why would you rebel?
He rebels because he can bear his fate no longer.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand
of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self
who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught
was given me but odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is
I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell,
who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self,
the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without
rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is
I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this
man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to
fulfill. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined
lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits
in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, while you are busy re-creating
life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with
pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper
one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy
submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness,
which is behind all things.
War
One night a feast was held in the palace, and there came a man and
prostrated himself before the prince, and all the feasters looked
upon him; and they saw that one of his eyes was out and that
the empty socket bled. And the prince inquired of him, "What has
befallen you? " And the man replied, "O prince, I am by profession
a thief, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob
the money-changer's shop, and as I climbed in through the window
I made a mistake and entered the weaver's shop, and in the dark I
ran into the weaver's loom and my eye was plucked out. And now,
O prince, I ask for justice upon the weaver. "
Then the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed
that one of his eyes should be plucked out.
"O prince," said the weaver, "the decree is just. It is right that
one of my eyes be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary to me
in order that I may see the two sides of the cloth that I weave.
But I have a neighbour, a cobbler, who has also two eyes, and in
his trade both eyes are not necessary. "
Then the prince sent for the cobbler. And he came. And they took
out one of the cobbler's two eyes.
And justice was satisfied.
The Fox
A fox looked at his shadow at sunrise and said, "I will have
a camel for lunch today. " And all morning he went about looking
for camels. But at noon he saw his shadow again--and he said, "A
mouse will do. "
The Wise King
Once there ruled in the distant city of Wirani a king who was both
mighty and wise. And he was feared for his might and loved for
his wisdom.
Now, in the heart of that city was a well, whose water was cool and
crystalline, from which all the inhabitants drank, even the king
and his courtiers; for there was no other well.
One night when all were asleep, a witch entered the city, and poured
seven drops of strange liquid into the well, and said, "From this
hour he who drinks this water shall become mad. "
Next morning all the inhabitants, save the king and his lord
chamberlain, drank from the well and became mad, even as the witch
had foretold.
And during that day the people in the narrow streets and in the
market places did naught but whisper to one another, "The king is
mad. Our king and his lord chamberlain have lost their reason.
Surely we cannot be ruled by a mad king. We must dethrone him. "
That evening the king ordered a golden goblet to be filled from the
well. And when it was brought to him he drank deeply, and gave it
to his lord chamberlain to drink.
And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani,
because its king and its lord chamberlain had regained their reason.
Ambition
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. "
The New Pleasure
Last night I invented a new pleasure, and as I was giving it the
first trial an angel and a devil came rushing toward my house. They
met at my door and fought with each other over my newly created
pleasure; the one crying, "It is a sin! "--the other, "It is a
virtue! "
The Other Language
Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silken cradle, gazing
with astonished dismay on the new world round about me, my mother
spoke to the wet-nurse, saying, "How does my child? "
And the wet-nurse answered, "He does well, Madame, I have fed him
three times; and never before have I seen a babe so young yet so
gay. "
And I was indignant; and I cried, "It is not true, mother; for
my bed is hard, and the milk I have sucked is bitter to my mouth,
and the odour of the breast is foul in my nostrils, and I am most
miserable. "
But my mother did not understand, nor did the nurse; for the language
I spoke was that of the world from which I came.
And on the twenty-first day of my life, as I was being christened,
the priest said to my mother, "You should indeed by happy, Madame,
that your son was born a Christian. "
And I was surprised,--and I said to the priest, "Then your mother
in Heaven should be unhappy, for you were not born a Christian. "
But the priest too did not understand my language.
And after seven moons, one day a soothsayer looked at me, and he
said to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leader
of men. "
But I cried out,--"That is a false prophet; for I shall be a
musician, and naught but a musician shall I be. "
But even at that age my language was not understood--and great was
my astonishment.
And after three and thirty years, during which my mother, and the
nurse, and the priest have all died, (the shadow of God be upon
their spirits) the soothsayer still lives. And yesterday I met him
near the gates of the temple; and while we were talking together
he said, "I have always known you would become a great musician.
Even in your infancy I prophesied and foretold your future. "
And I believed him--for now I too have forgotten the language of
that other world.
The Pomegranate
Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed
saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in
my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be
strong and beautiful through all the seasons. "
Then another seed spoke and said, "When I was as young as you, I
too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things,
I see that my hopes were vain. "
And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that promises so
great a future. "
And a fourth said, "But what a mockery our life would be, without
a greater future! "
Said a fifth, "Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even
what we are. "
But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall continue to
be. "
And a seventh said, "I have such a clear idea how everything will
be, but I cannot put it into words. "
Then an eight spoke--and a ninth--and a tenth--and then many--until
all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many
voices.
And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the
seeds are few and almost silent.
The Two Cages
In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which
my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other
is a songless sparrow.
Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, "Good morrow to
thee, brother prisoner. "
The Three Ants
Three ants met on the nose of a man who was asleep in the sun. And
after they had saluted one another, each according to the custom
of his tribe, they stood there conversing.
The first ant said, "These hills and plains are the most barren I
have known. I have searched all day for a grain of some sort, and
there is none to be found. "
Said the second ant, "I too have found nothing, though I have
visited every nook and glade. This is, I believe, what my people
call the soft, moving land where nothing grows. "
Then the third ant raised his head and said, "My friends, we are
standing now on the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite
Ant, whose body is so great that we cannot see it, whose shadow
is so vast that we cannot trace it, whose voice is so loud that we
cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent. "
When the third ant spoke thus the other ants looked at each other
and laughed.
At that moment the man moved and in his sleep raised his hand and
scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.
The Grave-Digger
Once, as I was burying one of my dead selves, the grave-digger came
by and said to me, "Of all those who come here to bury, you alone
I like. "
Said I, "You please me exceedingly, but why do you like me? "
"Because," said he, "They come weeping and go weeping--you only
come laughing and go laughing. "
On the Steps of the Temple
Yestereve, on the marble steps of the Temple, I saw a woman sitting
between two men. One side of her face was pale, the other was
blushing.
The Blessed City
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.
