Poets

Khalil Gibran

young Khalil Gibran

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“On Friendship”

Your friend is your needs answered.
He is your field which you sow with love and reap with thanksgiving.
And he is your board and your fireside.
For you come to him with your hunger, and you seek him for peace.

When your friend speaks his mind you fear not the ‘nay’ in your own mind, nor do you withhold the ‘ay.’
And when he is silent your heart ceases not to listen to his heart;
For without words, in friendship, all thoughts, all desires, all expectations are born and shared, with joy that is unacclaimed.
When you part from your friend, you grieve not;
For that which you love most in him may be clearer in his absence, as the mountain to the climber is clearer from the plain.
And let there be no purpose in friendship save the deepening of the spirit.
For love that seeks aught but the disclosure of its own mystery is not love but a net cast forth: and only the unprofitable is caught.

And let your best be for your friend.
If he must know the ebb of your tide, let him know its flood also.
For what is your friend that you should seek him with hours to kill?
Seek him always with hours to live.
For it is his to fill your need, but not your emptiness.
And in the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures.
For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. 

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“Leave Me, My Blamer”

Leave me, my blamer, 
For the sake of the love 
Which unites your soul with 
That of your beloved one; 
For the sake of that which 
Joins spirit with mothers 
Affection, and ties your 
Heart with filial love. Go, 
And leave me to my own 
Weeping heart. 

Let me sail in the ocean of 
My dreams; Wait until Tomorrow 
Comes, for tomorrow is free to 
Do with me as he wishes. Your 
Laying is naught but shadow 
That walks with the spirit to 
The tomb of abashment, and shows 
Heard the cold, solid earth. 

I have a little heart within me 
And I like to bring him out of 
His prison and carry him on the 
Palm of my hand to examine him 
In depth and extract his secret. 
Aim not your arrows at him, lest 
He takes fright and vanish ‘ere he 
Pours the secrets blood as a 
Sacrifice at the altar of his 
Own faith, given him by Deity 
When he fashioned him of love and beauty. 

The sun is rising and the nightingale 
Is singing, and the myrtle is 
Breathing its fragrance into space. 
I want to free myself from the 
Quilted slumber of wrong. Do not 
Detain me, my blamer! 

Cavil me not by mention of the 
Lions of the forest or the 
Snakes of the valley, for 
Me soul knows no fear of earth and 
Accepts no warning of evil before 
Evil comes. 

Advise me not, my blamer, for 
Calamities have opened my heart and 
Tears have cleanses my eyes, and 
Errors have taught me the language 
Of the hearts. 

Talk not of banishment, for conscience 
Is my judge and he will justify me 
And protect me if I am innocent, and 
Will deny me of life if I am a criminal. 

Love’s procession is moving; 
Beauty is waving her banner; 
Youth is sounding the trumpet of joy; 
Disturb not my contrition, my blamer. 
Let me walk, for the path is rich 
With roses and mint, and the air 
Is scented with cleanliness. 

Relate not the tales of wealth and
Greatness, for my soul is rich 
With bounty and great with God’s glory. 

Speak not of peoples and laws and 
Kingdoms, for the whole earth is 
My birthplace and all humans are 
My brothers. 

Go from me, for you are taking away 
Life – giving repentance and bringing 
Needless words. 


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