Khalil GibranBukan tempat tinggal yg sebenarnya.
Sedangkan manusia yg didalamnya selaku musafir yg sedang berkelana.
Awal pertama manusia singgah dalam perut ibunya,
dan terakhir manusia singgah di liang kubur.
Manusia masih dalam perjalanan dan yang dituju adalah kampung halaman
yang kekal yaitu Akhirat.
Maka tiap-tiap tahun yg telah dilalui oleh umurnya laksana satu
perhentian,
tiap bulan yg telah lewat adalah selaku istirahat,
dan tiap minggu yg dilewatinya selaku suatu kampung yang ditemuinya
dalam perjalanan.
Setiap hari selaku satu pal yg ditempuhnya,
Setiao detik yg dinafaskannya selaku satu langkah yg dijalani.
dan setiap nafas yg dihembuskannya akan mendekatkan dirinya ke pintu
Akhirat.
Dengan demikian manusia makin dekat ke pintu kubur dan makin renggang
dari dunia yang fana ini.
--
Kalian mungkin tidak menyangka bahwa penulis puisi ini adalah seorang
kristen maronite Lebanon bernama Khalil Gibran.
Khalil Gibran adalah seorang Lebanon, beragama kristen Maronite,
tulisannya adalah ciri khas pengikut Isa yang berciri khas Unitarian,
yg lebih menganggap Jesus itu nabi atau manusia biasa. Dia
menerbitkan buku puisi berjudul The Prophet atau Sang Nabi yg
maksudnya adalah Jesus. Dia menulis salah satu bukunya JESUS, THE SON
OF MAN, di tahun 1928.
Perhatikan kedekatan tulisannya dengan Islam,
benar bahwa antara gereja kristen Syria-Lebanon dengan ajaran
Muhammad semula ada kedekatan, sesuai dengan dugaan para scholars
bahwa ada pengaruh kuat gereja timur tengah (syria, maronite,
nestorian) pada Islam. Ada hubungan erat antara ajaran Jesus dan
Islam. tambah satu bukti lagi, Muhammad dan Islam itu pengikut Isa.
berikut ini adalah keterangan tth Khalil Gibran dan beberapa kutipan
karya-karyanya yg terbagus.
Gibran Khalil Gibran was born on January 6, 1883, to the Maronite
family of Gibran in Bsharri, a mountainous area in Northern Lebanon
[Lebanon was a Turkish province part of Greater Syria (Syria,
Lebanon, and Palestine) and subjugated to Ottoman dominion]. His
mother Kamila Rahmeh was thirty when she begot Gibran from her third
husband Khalil Gibran, who proved to be an irresponsible husband
leading the family to poverty. Gibran had a half-brother six years
older than him and two younger sisters, Mariana and Sultana, whom he
was deeply attached to throughout his life, along with his mother.
Kamila's family came from a prestigious religious background, which
imbued the uneducated mother with a strong will and later on helped
her raise up the family on her own in the U.S. Growing up in the lush
region of Bsharri, Gibran proved to be a solitary and pensive child
who relished the natural surroundings of the cascading falls, the
rugged cliffs and the neighboring green cedars, the beauty of which
emerged as a dramatic and symbolic influence to his drawings and
writings. Being laden with poverty, he did not receive any formal
education or learning, which was limited to regular visits to a
village elder who doctrined him with the essentials of religion,
alongside Syriac and Arabic languages. Recognizing Gibran's
inquisitive and alert nature, the priest began teaching him the
rudiments of alphabet and language, opening up to Gibran the world of
history, science, and language. At the age of ten, Gibran fell off a
cliff, wounding his left shoulder, which remained weak for the rest
of his life ever since this incident.
At the age of eight, Khalil Gibran, Gibran's father, was accused of
tax evasion and was sent to prison as the Ottoman authorities
confiscated the Gibrans' property and left them homeless. The family
went to live with relatives for a while; however, the strong-willed
mother decided that the family should immigrate to the U.S., seeking
a better life and following in suit to Gibran's uncle who immigrated
earlier. The father was released in 1894, but being an irresponsible
head of the family he was undecided about immigration and remained
behind in Lebanon.
On June 25, 1895, the Gibrans embarked on a voyage to the American
shores of New York.
The Gibrans settled in Boston's South End, which at the time hosted
the second largest Syrian community in the U.S. following New York.
The culturally diverse area felt familiar to Kamila, who was
comforted by the familiar spoken Arabic, and the widespread Arab
customs. Kamila, now the bread-earner of the family, began to work as
a peddler on the impoverished streets of South End Boston. At the
time, peddling was the major source of income for most Syrian
immigrants, who were negatively portrayed due to their unconventional
Arab ways and their supposed idleness.
In the school, a registration mistake altered his name forever by
shortening it to Kahlil Gibran, which remained unchanged till the
rest of his life despite repeated attempts at restoring his full
name. Gibran entered school on September 30, 1895, merely two months
after his arrival in the U.S. Having no formal education, he was
placed in an ungraded class reserved for immigrant children, who had
to learn English from scratch. Gibran caught the eye of his teachers
with his sketches and drawings, a hobby he had started during his
childhood in Lebanon.
Gibran's curiosity led him to the cultural side of Boston, which
exposed him to the rich world of the theatre, Opera and artistic
Galleries. Prodded by the cultural scenes around him and through his
artistic drawings, Gibran caught the attention of his teachers at the
public school, who saw an artistic future for the boy. They contacted
Fred Holland Day, an artist and a supporter of artists who opened up
Gibran's cultural world and set him on the road to artistic fame...
Lebanese-American philosophical essayist, novelist, mystical poet,
and artist.
Gibran's works were especially influential in the American popular
culture in the 1960s. In 1904 Gibran had his first art exhibition in
Boston. From 1908 to 1910 he studied art in Paris with August Rodin.
In 1912 he settled in New York, where he devoted himself to writing
and painting. Gibran's early works were written in Arabic, and from
1918 he published mostly in English. In 1920 he founded a society for
Arab writers, Mahgar (al-Mahgar). Among its members were Mikha'il
Na'ima (1889-1988), Iliya Abu Madi (1889-1957), Nasib Arida (1887-
1946), Nadra Haddad (1881-1950), and Ilyas Abu Sabaka (1903-47).
Gibran died in New York on April 10, 1931. Among his best-known works
is THE PROPHET, a book of 26 poetic essays, which has been translated
into over 20 languages. The Prophet, who has lived in a foreign city
12 years, is about to board a ship that will take him home. He is
stopped by a group of people, whom he teaches the mysteries of life.
Selected works:
ARA'IS AL MURUDJ, 1906
STONEFOLDS, 1907
ON THE THRESHOLD, 1907
AL-ARWAH AL-MUTAMARRIDA, 1908
DAILY BREAD, 1910
FIRES, 1912
AL-AJNIHA AL-MUTAKASSIRAH [The broken wings], 1912
DAM'AH WA-IBTISAMAH [A Tear and a Smile], 1914
THE MADMAN, 1918
AL-MAWAKIB [The Procession], 1919
THE FORERUNNER, 1920
SPIRITS REBELLIOUS, 1920
THE PROPHET, 1923
SAND AND FOAM, 1926
JESUS, THE SON OF MAN, 1928
THE EARTH GODS, 1931
GARDEN OF THE PROPHET, 1933
THE DEATH OF THE PROPHET, 1933
TEARS AND LAUGHTER, 1947
NYMPHS OF THE VALLEY, 1948
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 on, 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.
--From The Madman His Parables and Poems (1918)
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."
--From The Madman His Parables and Poems (1918)
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 exceeding dark, and he
cried, "O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight."
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 neighbor, 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 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.
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."
THE GREATER SEA
My soul and I went down to the great sea to bathe. And when we
reached the shore, we went about looking for a hidden and lonely
place.
But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a grey rock taking pinches
of salt from a bag and throwing them into the sea.
"This is the pessimist," said my soul, "Let us leave this place. We
cannot bathe here."
We walked on until we reached an inlet. There we saw, standing on a
white rock, a man holding a bejewelled box, from which he took sugar
and threw it into the sea.
"And this is the optimist," said my soul, "And he too must not see
our naked bodies."
Further on we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead
fish and tenderly putting them back into the water.
"And we cannot bathe before him," said my soul. "He is the humane
philanthropist."
And we passed on.
Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand. Great
waves came and erased it. But he went on tracing it again and again.
"He is the mystic," said my soul, "Let us leave him."
And we walked on, till in a quiet cove we saw a man scooping up the
foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.
"He is the idealist," said my soul, "Surely he must not see our
nudity."
And on we walked. Suddenly we heard a voice crying, "This is the sea.
This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea." And when we
reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned to the sea, and
at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur.
And my soul said, "Let us pass on. He is the realist, who turns his
back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a
fragment."
So we passed on. And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man with
his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul, "We can bathe
here, for he cannot see us."
"Nay," said my soul, "For he is the most deadly of them all. He is
the puritan."
Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her
voice.
"Let us go hence," she said, "For there is no lonely, hidden place
where we can bathe. I would not have this wind lift my golden hair,
or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my
scared nakedness."
Then we left that sea to seek the Greater Sea.
SAID A BLADE OF GRASS
Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf, "You make such a noise
falling! You scatter all my winter dreams."
Said the leaf indignant, "Low-born and low-dwelling! Songless,
peevish thing! You live not in the upper air and you cannot tell the
sound of singing."
Then the autumn leaf lay down upon the earth and slept. And when
spring came she waked again -- and she was a blade of grass.
And when it was autumn and her winter sleep was upon her, and above
her through all the air the leaves were falling, she muttered to
herself, "O these autumn leaves! They make such a noise! They scatter
all my winter dreams."
THE TWO LEARNED MEN
Once there lived in the ancient city of Afkar two learned men who
hated and belittled each other's learning. For one of them denied the
existence of the gods and the other was a believer.
One day the two met in the market-place, and amidst their followers
they began to dispute and to argue about the existence or the non-
existence of the gods. And after hours of contention they parted.
That evening the unbeliever went to the temple and prostrated himself
before the altar and prayed the gods to forgive his wayward past.
And the same hour the other learned man, he who had upheld the gods,
burned his sacred books. For he had become an unbeliever.
--The forerunner (1920)
THE LION'S DAUGHTER
Four slaves stood fanning an old queen who was asleep upon her
throne. And she was snoring. And upon the queen's lap a cat lay
purring and gazing lazily at the slaves.
The first slave spoke, and said, "How ugly this old woman is in her
sleep. See her mouth droop; and she breathes as if the devil were
choking her."
Then the cat said, purring, "Not half so ugly in her sleep as you in
your waking slavery."
And the second slave said, "You would think sleep would smooth her
wrinkles instead of deepening them. She must be dreaming of something
evil."
And the cat purred, "Would that you might sleep also and dream of
your freedom."
And the third slave said, "Perhaps she is seeing the procession of
all those that she has slain."
And the cat purred, "Aye, she sees the procession of your forefathers
and your descendants."
And the fourth slave said, "It is all very well to talk about her,
but it does not make me less weary of standing and fanning."
And the cat purred, "You shall be fanning to all eternity; for as it
is on earth, so it is in heaven."
At this moment the old queen nodded in her sleep, and her crown fell
to the floor.
And one of the slaves said, "That is a bad omen."
And the cat purred, "The bad omen of one is the good omen of
another."
And the second slave said, "What if she should wake, and find her
crown fallen! She would surely slay us."
And the cat purred, "Daily from your birth she has slain you and you
know it not."
And the third slave said, "Yes, she would slay us and she would call
it making a sacrifice to the gods."
And the cat purred, "Only the weak are sacrificed to the gods."
And the fourth slave silenced the others, and softly he picked up the
crown and replaced it, without waking her, on the old queen's head.
And the cat purred, "Only a slave restores a crown that has fallen."
And after a while the old queen woke, and she looked about her and
yawned. Then she said, "Me thought I dreamed, and I saw four
caterpillars chased by a scorpion around the trunk of an ancient oak
tree. I like not my dream."
Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. And she snored. And
the four slaves went on fanning her.
And the cat purred, "Fan on, fan on, stupids. You fan but the fire
that consumes you."
WAR AND THE SMALL NATIONS
Once, high above a pasture, where a sheep and a lamb were grazing, an
eagle was circling and gazing hungrily down upon the lamb. And as he
was about to descend and seize his prey, another eagle appeared and
hovered above the sheep and her young with the same hungry intent.
Then the two rivals began to fight, filling the sky with their fierce
cries.
The sheep looked up and was much astonished. She turned to the lamb
and said:
"How strange, my child, that these two noble birds should attack one
another. Is not the vast sky large enough for both of them? Pray, my
little one, pray in your heart that God may make peace between your
winged brothers."
And the lamb prayed in his heart.
CRITICS
One nightfall a man travelling on horseback towards the sea reached
an inn by the roadside. He dismounted and, confident in man and night
like all riders towards the sea, he tied his horse to a tree beside
the door and entered into the inn.
At midnight, when all were asleep, a thief came and stole the
traveller's horse.
In the morning the man awoke, and discovered that his horse was
stolen. And he grieved for his horse, and that a man had found it in
his heart to steal.
Then his fellow lodgers came and stood around him and began to talk.
And the first man said, "How foolish of you to tie your horse outside
the stable."
And the second said, " Still more foolish, without even hobbling the
horse!"
And the third man said, "It is stupid at best to travel to the sea on
horseback."
And the fourth said, "Only the indolent and the slow of foot own
horses."
Then the traveller was much astonished. At last he cried, "My
friends, because my horse was stolen, you have hastened one and all
to tell me my faults and my shortcomings. But strange, not one word
of reproach have you uttered about the man who stole my horse."
"SAID A SHEET OF SNOW-WHITE PAPER . . . "
Said a sheet of snow-white paper, "Pure was I created, and pure will
I remain for ever. I would rather be burnt and turn to white ashes
than suffer darkness to touch me or the unclean to come near me."
The ink-bottle heard what the paper was saying, and it laughed in its
dark heart; but it never dared to approach her. And the multicoloured
pencils heard her also, and they too never came near her.
And the snow-white sheet of paper did remain pure and chaste for
ever, pure and chaste -- and empty.
--Sand and Foam (1926)
Countless are the eagles who descend from the upper air to live with
moles that they may know the secrets of the earth. From THE KING-
HERMIT from the The forerunner (1920)
Only once have I been made mute. It was when a man asked me, "Who are
you?"
Forgetfulness is a form of freedom.
On my way to the Holy City I met another pilgrim and I asked him, "Is
this indeed the way to the Holy City?"
And he said, "Follow me, and you will reach the Holy City in a day
and a night."
And I followed him. And we walked many days and many nights, yet we
did not reach the Holy City.
And what was to my surprise he became angry with me because he had
misled me.
Seven times have I despised my soul:
The first time when I saw her being meek that she might attain
height.
The second time when I saw her limping before the crippled.
The third time when she was given to choose between the hard and the
easy, and she chose the easy.
The fourth time when she committed a wrong, and comforted herself
that others also commit wrong.
The fifth time when she forbore for weakness, and attributed her
patience to strength.
The sixth time when she despised the ugliness of a face, and knew not
that it was one of her own masks.
And the seventh time when she sang a song of praise, and deemed it a
virtue.
My loneliness was born when men praised my talkative faults and
blamed my silent virtues.
When two women talk they say nothing; when one woman speaks she
reveals all of life.
Only the dumb envy the talkative.
Now let us play hide and seek. Should you hide in my heart it would
not be difficult to find you. But should you hide behind your own
shell, then it would be useless for anyone to seek you.
A woman may veil her face with a smile.
How noble is the sad heart who would sing a joyous song with joyous
hearts.
They dip their pens in our hearts and think they are inspired.
Inspiration will always sing; inspiration will never explain.
The difference between the richest man and the poorest is but a day
of hunger and an hour of thirst.
Those who give you a serpent when you ask for a fish, may have
nothing but serpents to give. It is then generosity on their part.
You are truly a forgiver when you forgive murderers who never spill
blood, thieves who never steal, and liars who utter no falsehood
The truly just is he who feels half guilty of your misdeeds.
I have no enemies, O God, but if I am to have an enemy
Let his strength be equal to mine,
That truth alone may be the victor.
How mean am I when life gives me gold and I give you silver, and yet
I deem myself generous.
Life is a procession. The slow of foot finds it too swift and he
steps out;
And the swift of foot finds it too slow and he too steps out.
It is the honor of the murdered that he is not the murderer.
The most pitiful among men is he who turns his dreams into silver and
gold.
We are all climbing toward the summit of our hearts' desire. Should
the other climber steal your sack and your purse and wax fat on the
one and heavy on the other, you should pity him;
The climbing will be harder for his flesh, and the burden will make
his way longer.
And should you in your leanness see his flesh puffing upward, help
him a step; it will add to your swiftness.
You cannot judge any man beyond your knowledge of him, and how small
is your knowledge.
I would not listen to a conqueror preaching to the conquered.
IF IT WERE not for our conception of weights and measures we would
stand in awe of the firefly as we do before the sun.
A root is a flower that disdains fame.
The silence of the envious is too noisy.
The nearest to my heart are a king without a kingdom and a poor man
who does not know how to beg.
A woman protested saying, "Of course it was a righteous war. My son
fell in it."
When you have solved all the mysteries of life you long for death,
for it is but another mystery of life.
Generosity is giving more than you can, and pride is taking less than
you need.
