The Secrets of the Heart

Kahlil Gibran, Martin L. Wolf, Anthony Rizcallah Ferris

• Publisher: Philosophical Library/Open Road
• Year: 2011
• ISBN:
  9781453228548
• Topic: Littérature
• Subtopic: Poésie du Moyen-Orient

An early collection of Kahlil Gibran's writings, showcasing the many styles of this prolific thinker, all profoundly beautiful Kahlil Gibran reveals his vision of the soul and understanding of the world—past, present, and future—in this rich sampling of more than twenty works. Prose tales, fables, and poems evoke the mystic East and form a world at once powerful, tender, joyous, and melancholy. This collection, penned when Gibran was still a young writer, reveals many of the themes and styles plumbed throughout his life, including his lifelong struggle against injustice in "The Crucified, " his heart-wrenching lament for a Lebanon shackled by tradition and politics in "My Countrymen, " and his masterful use of symbolism and simile in "The Secrets of the Heart." A writer with infinite abilities, Gibran continually seeks true beauty, no matter the form.

The Cortège

The Cortège

INTRODUCTION

THE MOTIVE of Gibran in writing this work probably finds its basis in his never-ending efforts to analyze human society, its laws, rules and customs. In society Gibran perceives a general falsehood of living that leads the people from the truth, elating some persons, humiliating others. He admonishes that no individual can experience the fullness of life and enjoy the bounty of Nature while his fellowman is pursuing greed in order to attain his goal.

To illustrate his precepts, Gibran chooses two metaphorical characters. The first is Age, represented by a bent old man who lives in the city and suffers through its man-made laws, traditions, inheritances and corruptions. He wearies of the stifling clamor, and departs for the field in order to relax his trembling hands and meditate. In the field he meets Youth, symbolized by a handsome, robust young man whose eyes have seen only the trees, mountains and brooks, whose body has inhaled only the pure air, and whose ears have listened only to the singing of the streams and birds, and the whistling of the wind through the autumn leaves.

At this meeting, Youth is carrying a flute in his hand, preparing to greet Nature with his eternal melody of the open field. Youth and Age discuss freely their respective conceptions of life, Age commenting that naught but evil and misery are created in the city by human society, while Youth insists that only by leading a life close to the heart of Nature can one’s heart find true pleasure and contentment, filling the heart’s domain to its fullest with simple, God-given joy.

From this debate between Age and Youth, Kahlil Gibran’s approaches to life, death, and religion are revealed. He does not propose that all persons abandon urbanity for life on the mountainside, but he endeavors to focus attention upon a simple formula for better life, and urges the people to unchain themselves from the rattling shackles of society and avail themselves, to as great a degree as possible, of the natural freedom and tranquility of rural existence. The field which Gibran describes is symbolic of the life of rich wholesomeness accruing to the heart of the person who abides close by the earth.

By reason of the nebulous, untranslatable character of the Arabic language, this play-poem is variously called The Procession and The Cavalcade. In considering Gibran’s sadness as reflected herein, the translator determined that The Cortège was best suited, as a title, to the author’s intention. This same indefiniteness, inherent in the Arabic, required occasional departure from strict translation in order that Gibran’s mighty message be captured intact.

* * * * * * *

Age: True, good deed by man is ever done,

But when man is gone, evil does not

Perish with him. Like turning wheels

We are controlled by the hands of

Time where e’er man resides. Say not

“This man is famed and learned, or

Master of knowledge from the angels

Sent,” for in the city the best of

Man is but one of a flock, led by

The shepherd in strong voice. And he

Who follows not the command must soon

Stand before his killers.

Youth: There is no shepherd over man in

The beautiful field, nor sheep to

Graze nor hearts to bleed. Winter

Departs with her garment and Spring

Must come, but only by God’s great

Command. Your people are born as

Slaves, and by your tyrants their

Souls are torn. Where e’er goes the

Leader, so go they, and woe unto

Him who would refuse!

Give me the flute and let me sing,

And through my soul let music ring;

The song of the flute is more sublime

Than all glory of kings in all of time.

Age: Life amid the throngs is but brief

And drug-laden slumber, mixed with

Mad dreams and spectres and fears.

The secret of the heart is encased

In sorrow, and only in sorrow is

Found our joy, while happiness serves

But to conceal the deep mystery of life,

And if sorrow I were to abandon for

The calm of the field, naught but

Emptiness would be my lot.

Youth: The joy of one is the sorrow of the

Other, and there is no sorrow in the

Beautiful field, or sadness brought

By scornful deed. The frolicsome

Breeze brings joy to sad hearts, and

Your sorrow of heart is but a dream of

Fancy, passing swiftly, like the quick

Brook. Your sorrow would in the field

Vanish, as the autumn leaf is sped off

On the forehead of the brook, and your

Heart would be calm, as the broad lake

Is calm under the great lights of God.

Give me the flute and let me sing,

And through my soul let music ring;

Heaven’s melody alone will ever remain,

All of earth’s objects are but vain.

Age: Few are those content with life and far

From care. The river of the field is

But a carrier of emptiness; the river

Of human life has been diverted into old

Cups of knowledge and presented to man

Who drinks of life’s richness but heeds

Not its warnings. He is joyous when the

Cups are of happiness, but he grumbles

When he prays to God and asks for the

Wealth he scarce merits. And when he

Attains his goal of iron riches his

Dreams of fear enslave him forever.

This world is but a wine shop whose

Owner is Time, and the drunkards

Demand much for little offering.

Youth: There is no wine in the beautiful

Field, for glorious intoxication of

The soul is the reward of all who

Seek it in the bosom of Nature. The

Cloud which shelters the moon must

Be pierced with ardour if one needs

Behold the moon’s light. The people

Of the city abuse the wine of Time,

For they think upon it as a temple,

And they drink of it with ease and

With unthinking, and they flee,

Scurrying into old age w...