- The Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran: Author of The Prophet (Hardcover)?
- The Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran - BOOKBERRY.
- Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran by Khalil Gibran (2009, Hardcover).
- Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran.
Hello, Login. Visit Our Stores. This enriching collection of stories, prose poems, verse, parables and autobiographical essays comprising the major body of Kahlil Gibran's works have been carefully translated and edited by a noted trio of Gibran scholars Martin L. Wolf, Anthony R. Ferris and Andrew Dib Sherfan.
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He wrote: "You are my brother and I love you. I love you when you prostrate yourself in your mosque, and kneel in your church and pray in your synagogue. You and I are sons of one faith—the Spirit. His more than seven hundred images include portraits of his friends W.
Yeats , Carl Jung and Auguste Rodin. Gibran was born into a Maronite Christian family and raised in Maronite schools. He was influenced not only by his own religion but also by Islam, and especially by the mysticism of the Sufis.
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His knowledge of Lebanon's bloody history, with its destructive factional struggles, strengthened his belief in the fundamental unity of religions, which his parents exemplified by welcoming people of various religions in their home. Gibran also worked with St. Mark's Church in-the-Bowery on a number of occasions  both in terms of art like his drawings and readings of his work,   and in religious matters. One of Gibran's acquaintances later in life, Juliet Thompson , reported several anecdotes relating to Gibran.
Gibran was by no means a politician. He used to say: "I am not a politician, nor do I wish to become one" and "Spare me the political events and power struggles, as the whole earth is my homeland and all men are my fellow countrymen. I have my Lebanon and its beauty. Your Lebanon is an arena for men from the West and men from the East. My Lebanon is a flock of birds fluttering in the early morning as shepherds lead their sheep into the meadow and rising in the evening as farmers return from their fields and vineyards.
You have your Lebanon and its people. I have my Lebanon and its people. Nevertheless, Gibran called for the adoption of Arabic as a national language of Syria, considered from a geographic point of view, not as a political entity. When the Ottomans were eventually driven from Syria during World War I, Gibran sketched a euphoric drawing "Free Syria" which was then printed on the special edition cover of the Syrian-American paper al-Sa'ih The Traveler , founded by Abdul Mashih Haddad in  ; this play, according to Khalil Hawi, "defines Gibran's belief in Syrian nationalism with great clarity, distinguishing it from both Lebanese and Arab nationalism , and showing us that nationalism lived in his mind, even at this late stage, side by side with internationalism.
His poem "You have your Lebanon and I have mine" written after the First World War in the s is one of his most remembered works. Gibran's best-known work is The Prophet , a book composed of twenty-six poetic essays. Its popularity grew markedly during the s with the American counterculture and then with the flowering of the New Age movements. It has remained popular with these and with the wider population to this day. Since it was first published in , The Prophet has never been out of print. Having been translated into more than languages, making it among the top ten most translated books in history  it was one of the best-selling books of the twentieth century in the United States.
Elvis Presley was deeply affected by Gibran's The Prophet after receiving his first copy in He reportedly read passages to his mother and over the years gave away copies of "The Prophet" to friends and colleagues. Photographs of his hand-written notes under certain passages throughout his copy are archived on various Museum web-sites. One of his most notable lines of poetry is from "Sand and Foam" , which reads: "Half of what I say is meaningless, but I say it so that the other half may reach you". This line was used by John Lennon and placed, though in a slightly altered form, into the song " Julia " from the Beatles ' album The Beatles A.
Johnny Cash recorded Gibran's "The Eye of the Prophet" as an audio cassette book, and Cash can be heard talking about Gibran's work on a track called "Book Review" on his album Unearthed. Bowie used Gibran as a "hip reference",  because Gibran's work "A Tear and a Smile" became popular in the hippy counterculture of the s.
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In Gibran's fable On Death was composed in Hebrew by Gilad Hochman to the unique setting of soprano, theorbo and percussion and premiered in France under the title River of Silence. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. For other uses of Gebran or Gibran, see Gebran name. For other uses of Kahlil Gibran, see Kahlil Gibran disambiguation. Random House Webster's Unabridged Dictionary.
Modern Arabic Literature. The New Edinburgh Islamic Surveys. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. An Introduction to Arabic Literature. Cambridge, U. The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Arabic Literature—An Overview. Culture and Civilization in the Middle East. London: Routledge Curzon. Retrieved June 26, Daily Mail Online. The New Yorker.
Retrieved March 9, Retrieved April 18, I have begged for you many times, but you did not come; I have sought you, but you avoided me; I called out to you, but you listened not. You hear me now—embrace my soul, beloved Death! Death placed his softened hand upon the trembling lips, removed all reality, and enfolded it beneath his wings for secure conduct.
And returning to the sky, Death looked back and whispered his warning:. And over his head hovered worries as a vulture hovers over a carcass, until he reached a beautiful lake surrounded by magnificent marble statuary. He looked back with piercing regret to the images of his early life, woven into pattern by the gods, until he could no longer control his anguish. He said aloud, "Yesterday I was grazing my sheep in the green valley, enjoying my existence, sounding my flute, and holding my head high. Today I am a prisoner of greed.
Gold leads into gold, then into restlessness, and finally into crushing misery. I was born to be free and enjoy the bounty of life, but I find myself like a beast of burden so heavily laden with gold that his back is breaking. Where is my deity? I have lost all! Naught remains save loneliness that saddens me, gold that ridicules me, slaves who curse to my back, and a palace that I have erected as a tomb for my happiness, and in whose greatness I have lost my heart. Today I am among women with shallow beauty who sell themselves for gold and diamonds.
Today I find myself among the people like a frightened lamb among the wolves. As I walk in the roads, they gaze at me with hateful eyes and point at me with scorn and jealousy, and as I steal through the park I see frowning faces all about me. Today I am a slave standing before my wealth, my wealth which robbed me of the beauty of life I once knew. Forgive me, my Judge! I did not know that riches would put my life in fragments and lead me into the dungeons of harshness and stupidity.
What I thought was glory is naught but an eternal inferno. He gathered himself wearily and walked slowly toward the palace, sighing and repeating, Is this what people call wealth? Is this the god I am serving and worshipping? Is this what I seek of the earth? Why can I not trade it for one particle of contentment? Who would sell me one beautiful thought for a ton of gold?
Who would give me one moment of love for a handful of gems? As he reached the palace gates he turned and looked toward the city as Jeremiah gazed toward Jerusalem. He raised his arms in woeful lament and shouted, Oh people of the noisome city, who are living in darkness, hastening toward misery, preaching falsehood, and speaking with stupidity … until when shall you remain ignorant? Until when shall you abide in the filth of life and continue to desert its gardens?
The lamp of wisdom is dimming; it is time to furnish it with oil. The house of true fortune is being destroyed; it is time to rebuild it and guard it. The thieves of ignorance have stolen the treasure of your peace; it is time to retake it! At that moment a poor man stood before him and stretched forth his hand for alms. As he looked at the beggar, his lips parted, his eyes brightened with a softness, and his face radiated kindness. It was as if the yesterday he had lamented by the lake had come to greet him.
He embraced the pauper with affection and filled his hand with gold, and with a voice sincere with the sweetness of love he said, Come back tomorrow and bring with you your fellow sufferers. All your possessions will be restored. He entered his palace saying, Everything in life is good; even gold, for it teaches a lesson. Money is like a stringed instrument; he who does not know how to use it properly will hear only discordant music.
Money is like love; it kills slowly and painfully the one who withholds it, and it enlivens the other who turns it upon his fellow men. I pursued the beckoning course of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from touching the earth.
I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul—my thirsty soul who had seen naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness. I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when a Houri, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a. This action might not be possible to undo.
Are you sure you want to continue? Upload Sign In Join. Save For Later. Create a List. Summary The most wide-ranging collection of wisdom and works from the legendary twentieth-century spiritual guide and author of The Prophet. Read on the Scribd mobile app Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere. Knowest thou my weakness? Thy tears strike sharp and injure, For I know not my wrong. Until when shalt thou cry? I have naught but human words To interpret your dreams, Your desires, and your instructions. Look upon me, my Soul; I have Consumed my full life heeding Your teachings.
Think of how I suffer! I have exhausted my Life following you. My heart was glorying upon the Throne, but is now yoked in slavery; My patience was a companion, but Now contends against me; My youth was my hope, but Now reprimands my neglect. Why, my Soul, are you all-demanding? I have denied myself pleasure And deserted the joy of life Following the course which you Impelled me to pursue.
Be just to me, or call Death To unshackle me, For justice is your glory. Have mercy on me, my Soul. You have laden me with Love until I cannot carry my burden. You and Love are inseparable might; Substance And I are inseparable weakness. You have shown me Fortune beyond My grasp. You have shown me Beauty, but then Concealed her. Your delight comes with the Ending, And you revel now in anticipation; But this body suffers with life While in life. This, my Soul, is perplexing. You are hastening toward Eternity, But this body goes slowly toward Perishment. You do not wait for him, And he cannot go quickly.
This, my Soul, is sadness. You do not console Him, and he does not appreciate you. This, my Soul, is misery. You are rich in wisdom, but this Body is poor in understanding. You do not compromise And he does not obey. This, my Soul, is extreme suffering. In the silence of the night you visit The Beloved and enjoy the sweetness of His presence.
The Treasured Writings of Kahlil Gibran
This body ever remains The bitter victim of hope and separation. This, my Soul, is agonizing torture. Have mercy on me, my Soul! TWO INFANTS A PRINCE stood on the balcony of his palace addressing a great multitude summoned for the occasion and said, Let me offer you and this whole fortunate country my congratulations upon the birth of a new prince who will carry the name of my noble family, and of whom you will be justly proud.
Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the Distant fields, and mount the hilltops to draw Inspiration high above the cool green plains. Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment And placed it on the peach and citrus trees; and They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of The Night of Kedre. The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like Sweethearts, and the brooks burst out in dance Between the rocks, repeating the song of joy; And the flowers bud suddenly from the heart of Nature, like foam from the rich heart of the sea.
Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide; let us Pursue their exchange of the sweetness of kisses. Let us tend the fruit of the earth, as the Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the Seeds of Love, sowed deep in our hearts. Let us fill our bins with the products of Nature, as life fills so abundantly the Domain of our hearts with her endless bounty. Let us make the flowers our bed, and the Sky our blanket, and rest our heads together Upon pillows of soft hay.
Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer. Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the birds Have made pilgrimage to warmth and left the chilled Prairies suffering pangs of solitude. The jasmine And myrtle have no more tears. Let us retreat, for the tired brook has Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs Are drained of their copious weeping; and The cautious old hills have stored away Their colourful garments. Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell With quiet and contented melody.
Sit by me before the hearth, For fire is the only fruit of Winter. Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for That is greater than the shrieking elements Beyond our door. Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the Angry countenance of the heaven depresses my Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields Makes my soul cry. Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and Place it by you, so I can read with tears what Your life with me has written upon your face. Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes. Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing Our eyes.
Let us look upon each other before They are shut. Find me with your arms and embrace me; let Slumber then embrace our souls as one. Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has stolen All but our moving lips. You are close by me, My Forever. How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber; And how recent was the dawn! We are at last united by love, and Then the moon draws me from him. I go to him in haste and depart Reluctantly, with many Little farewells.
I steal swiftly from behind the Blue horizon to cast the silver of My foam upon the gold of his sand, and We blend in melted brilliance.
Catalog - The treasured writings of Kahlil Gibran.
I quench his thirst and submerge his Heart; he softens my voice and subdues My temper. At dawn I recite the rules of love upon His ears, and he embraces me longingly. At eventide I sing to him the song of Hope, and then print smooth kisses upon His face; I am swift and fearful, but he Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His Broad bosom soothes my restlessness. As the tide comes we caress each other, When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in Prayer.
Many times have I danced around mermaids As they rose from the depths and rested Upon my crest to watch the stars; Many times have I heard lovers complain Of their smallness, and I helped them to sigh. Many times have I teased the great rocks And fondled them with a smile, but never Have I received laughter from them; Many times have I lifted drowning souls And carried them tenderly to my beloved Shore. He gives them strength as he Takes mine. Many times have I stolen gems from the Depths and presented them to my beloved Shore. He takes in silence, but still I give for he welcomes me ever.
In the heaviness of night, when all Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I Sit up, singing at one time and sighing At another. I am awake always. Sleeplessness has weakened me!
But I am a lover, and the truth of love Is strong. I may weary, but I shall never die. Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in bandage soaked with escaping life. In that hour the soul sees for herself The Natural Law, and for that century she Imprisons herself behind the law of man; And she is shackled with irons of oppression. That hour was the inspiration of the Songs Of Solomon, and that century was the blind Power which destroyed the temple of Baalbek.
That hour was the birth of the Sermon on the Mount, and that century wrecked the castles of Palmyra and the tower of Babylon. One hour devoted to mourning and lamenting the Stolen equality of the weak is nobler than a Century filled with greed and usurpation. It is at that hour when the heart is Purified by flaming sorrow, and Illuminated by the torch of Love. And in the century, desires for Truth Are buried in the bosom of the earth. That hour is the root which must flourish. That hour is the hour of contemplation, The hour of meditation, the hour of Prayer, and the hour of a new era of good.
And that century is a life of Nero spent On self-investment taken solely from Earthly substance. This is life. Portrayed on the stage for ages; Recorded earthily for centuries; Lived in strangeness for years; Sung as a hymn for days; Exalted for but an hour, but the Hour is treasured by Eternity as a jewel. Between us has appeared A rival who brings us misery. She is cruel and demanding, Possessing empty lure. Her name is Substance. She follows wherever we go And watches like a sentinel, bringing Restlessness to my lover. I ask for my beloved in the forest, Under the trees, by the lakes.