Hi there
Welcome back.
It's been too long
today I would like to read from this book
it's
called the Prophet by Kahlil Gibran
I hope I pronounce his name correctly
from the first glance, this book might
seem like not anything special, but
it feels really good to hold it
the pages are not lined up correctly
it's nice to look at how it's printed
it's old
it was printed in October 1944
manufactured in the United States of America
New York, by
Alfred Knopf
and that's what Alfred put in
the back of the book here:
this book is set in original old style
original old style possesses in high degree those two qualities by which a book type must be judged:
first eligibility and second the
ability to impart a definite character
to a page without intruding itself upon
the reader's consciousness
obviously, he put a lot of thought and care in printing of this little book
it definitely has character
Khalil Gibran was
an American Lebanese writer and visual artist
the illustrations here in the
book are made by Kahlil Gibran himself
the style reminds me of William Blake's
paintings
October 1944 is the third year
of the second world war against Nazi
Germany
and there are little references
to that history here it says this book
has been produced in full compliance
with all government regulations for the
conservation of paper metal and other
essential materials
so conservation was
essential at the time of war
and then it says here books are weapons in the war of ideas
"The Prophet" is very famous writing
it's a very famous book printed
the first time in 1923
this is the 43rd printing here
and I checked with
Wikipedia and it says that Gibran
Khalil Gibran was the third most published
author after Shakespeare and Lao Tzu
the first chapter is called "the coming of
the ship"
Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved,
who was a dawn unto his own
day,
had waited 12 years in the city of Orphalese  for his ship
that was to return and bring him back
to the Isle of his birth
and in the 12th year, on the
seventh day of Ielool,
the month of reaping,
he climbed the hill without the
city walls and looked seaward
and he beheld his ship coming with the mist
then the gates of his heart were flung open
and his joy flew far over the sea
and he closed his eyes and prayed in the
silence of his soul
but as he descended the hill a sadness came upon him and he thought in his heart
how shall I go in peace and without sorrow
nay
not without
the wound in the spirit shall I leave this city
long were the days of pain I
have spent within its walls
and long were the nights of aloneness
and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret
too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in the streets
and too many
other children of my longing that walk
naked among these hills and I cannot
withdraw from them without the burden
and an ache
it is not a garment I cast
over this day but the skin that I tear
with my own hands
nor is it a thought I
leave behind me but a heart made sweet
with hunger and with thirst
yet I cannot tarry longer
the sea that calls all things unto her calls me
and I must embark
for the stay
though the hours burn in the night
is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould
fain would I take with me all that is
here but how shall I?
a voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings
alone must it seek the ether
and alone and without his nest
shall the eagle fly across the Sun
now when he reached the foot of the hill he turned again towards the sea
and he saw his ship approaching the harbor
and upon her prow the Mariners the men of his own land
and his soul cried out to them
and he said: sons of my ancient mothers
you riders of the tides,
how often have
you sailed in my dreams
and now you come in my awakening,
which is my deeper dream
ready am I to go and my eagerness
with sails full set awaits the wind
only another breath will I breathe in this still air
only another loving look cast
backwards
and then I shall stand among you
a Seafarer among seafarers
and you,
vast sea, sleepless mother who alone
are peace and freedom to the river and the stream
only another winding will this stream make
only another murmur in this
Glade
and then shall I come to you
a boundless drop to a boundless ocean
here is the painting that he's enclosing
and as he walked he saw from afar men
and women leaving their fields and their vineyards
and hustling towards the city
gates
and he heard their voices calling his name
and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship
and he said to himself:
shall the day of parting be the day of gathering
and shall it be said that my
eve was in truth my dawn
and what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow
or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress
shall my heart become a tree heavy laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto
them
and shall my desire flow like
a fountain that I may fill their cups
am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me
or a flute that his breath may
pass through me
a seeker of silence am I
and what treasure have I found in
silences
that I may dispense with confidence
if this is my day of harvest
in what fields have I sowed the seed and
in what unremembered seasons?
these things he said in words but much in his heart remained unsaid
for he himself could not speak his
deeper secret
and when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him
and they were crying out to him as with one voice
and the elders of the city stood forth and said go not yet away from us
a noontide have you been in
our twilight
and your youth has given us dreams to dream
no stranger are you among us nor a guest but our son  and our dearly beloved
suffer not yet our eyes
to hunger for your face
you have walked among us a spirit and your shadow has been a light upon our faces
much have we loved you but speechless was our love and
what the veils has it been veiled yet
yet now it cries aloud unto you and would
stand revealed before you
and ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation
and others came also and entreated him but he answered them not - he only bent his head
and those who stood near saw his tears
falling upon his breast
and he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple
and there came out of the sanctuary a 
 woman whose name was Almitra
and she was a seeress
and he looked upon
her with exceeding tenderness
for it was she who had first thought and
believed in him
when he had been but a day in their City
and she heiled him saying: prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost
long have you searched the distances for your ship, and now your ship has come and you must needs go
deep in your longing for the
land of your memories
and the dwelling place of your greatest desires
and our love would not bind you, nor our needs hold you
yet this we ask are you leave
us and you speak to us and give us of your truth
and we will give it unto our
children and they onto their children
and it shall not perish
in your aloneness you have watched with our days
and your wakefulness you have
listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep
now therefore disclose us
to ourselves and tell us all that has
been shown you of that which between
birth and death
and he answered
people of Orphalese, of what can I speak save that which is even now moving within your souls?
then said Almitra:
speak to us of love
and he raised his head and looked upon the people and there fell a stillness upon them
and with a great voice he said
when love
beckons to you follow him
though his ways are hard and steep
and when his wings enfold you - yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you
and when he speaks to you
believe him, though his voice may shatter
your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden
for even as love crowns you
so shall he crucify you
even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning
even as he ascends the height and caresses your tenderest branches that
quiver in the Sun
so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth
like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself
he thrashes you to make you naked
he sifts you to free you from your husks
he grinds you to whiteness
he kneads you until you are pliant,
and then he assigns you
to his sacred fire that you may become
sacred bread for God's sacred feast
all these things shall love do unto you that
you may know the secrets of your heart
and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's' heart
but if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure
then it is better for you that
you cover your nakedness and pass out of
Love's threshing floor into the
seasonless world where you shall laugh
but not all of your laughter and weep
but not all of your tears
love gives not but itself, and takes not but from itself
love possesses not, nor would it be possessed. for love is sufficient on to love
when you love you should not say 'God is in my heart', but rather 'I am in the heart of God '
and think not you can direct the
course of love, for love if it finds you worthy
directs your course
love has no
other desire but to fulfill itself
but if you love and must needs have desires, let this be your desires to melt and be
like a running brook that sings its
melody to the night,
to know the pain of too much tenderness, to be wounded by your own understanding of love,
and to bleed willingly and joyfully
to wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks
for another day of loving
to rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy
to return home at Eventide with gratitude
and then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and the song of praise upon your lips
so, this concludes the chapter on love
and the next chapter is on marriage
and we're gonna leave it for the next video
we got enough material for the day
I'll see you soon
you
