“Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Γκιμπράν, πάντα ερωτεύσιμα απαισιόδοξος.

Ήττα, ήττα μου, αθάνατο θάρρος μου,
Συ κι εγώ θα γελάμε μαζί, με την καταιγίδα,
Και θα σκάβουμε τάφους για κείνα όλα που πεθαίνουν μέσα μας,
Και θα στεκόμαστε αποφασιστικά στον ήλιο,
Και θα είμαστε επικίνδυνοι.

Να φας, να πιεις, να κοιμηθείς, να σκέπεις τη γύμνια σου, και τέλος να "κουράζεσαι εν πρέποντι χρόνω".

Να δουλεύεις, να παίζεις, να τραγουδάς, να χορεύεις και τέλος να πλαγιάζεις, στου ρολογιού τον "ενδεδειγμένον χτύπον".

Να σκέφτεσαι "έτσι", να αισθάνεσαι "τόσο", και τέλος να παύουν και σκέψεις και αισθήματα, μόλις κάποιο καθορισμένο αστέρι ανατείλει στο "μεμακρυσμένο" ορίζοντά σου.

Να ερωτεύεσαι σύμφωνα με την "κατεστημένη" τάξη, να διασκεδάζεις τον καλύτερο εαυτό σου με "προδιαγεγραμμένο" τρόπο, να λατρεύεις τους θεούς "ευαρμόστως", να μηχανοραφείς με τους δαιμόνους "τεχνηέντως", και τέλος να λησμονάς τα πάντα - σάμπως να σου έχει πεθάνει η μνήμη.

Να στοχάζεσαι υστερόβουλα, να προμελετάς λελογισμένα, να ευτυχείς αβρά και αριστοκρατικώς να υποφέρεις - και τέλος να τρυγάς την κούπα "μέχρι ρανίδος" για να μπορείς να την ξαναγεμίσεις. Αύριο πάλι.

Μα γιατί πρέπει να βρίσκομαι εγώ εδώ, ώ Θεέ, εγώ ένας άγουρος σπόρος απ'ανεκπλήρωτο πάθος, μια τρελοκαταιγίδα που δεν ψάχνει για ανατολή μηδέ για δύση, ένα αποπλανημένο θραύσμα από έναν, που εκρήχτηκε, πλανήτη;

Γιατί βρίσκομαι εδώ;

بي شك اين مجموعه داستان هاي عرفاني و تامل برانگيز كوتاه، مرا به ياد شيوه ي نگارش پائولو كوئيلو مي اندازد. با اين تفاوت كه قلم جبران خليل جبران بسي ادبي تر، زيبا تر و به دور از اعتقادات خشك است. فكر ميكردم او نيز از دين بگويد، اما انگار جسور تر از اين حرف هاست ك در بند اعتقاداتي چنين باشد.

لم أقرأ في حياتي لكاتب مثل جبران يمتلك ناصية التأمل فيما حوله وفيمن حوله.. هنا ما أعذب الجنون، حينما ترى الكاتب يتقمّص دور حبّة رمان تتحدّث مع أقرانها.. أو العين تخاطب بقيّة الحواس، أو أوارق الشجر تعاير بعضها.. أو النفس البشرية وما تنضح به.. ستخرج من بين ال35 مقطوعة المتواجدين بالكتاب بدروس وحكم وعبر تظل عالقة بذهنك، مُصاغة بطريقة جبران المتفرّدة في الكت��بة؛ حيث قوة الكلمات، ونفاذ الأسلوب، وعمق المعنى.
لقد قالت د. نازك في مقدمتها أن جبران شغل نفسه في هذا الكتاب بمشكلة الأنا في علاقتها بنفسها، بالآخرين، بالكون، وبالله، وقسّمت العمل لجزء اجتماعي وجزء ميتافيزيقي، وكل منهما يتمم الآخر وتجلّى ذلك بوضوع في العمل.
أكثر ما راقني كان: الذوات السبع، اللعين، الطموح، اللغة الجديدة، على درجات الهيكل، المدينة المباركة، الوجوه، الحنين الأعظم، والعالم الكامل.. والأخيرة قرأتها أكثر من خمس مرات لفرط جمالها..

Kahlil Gibran's words need to be felt, not analyzed.
Here is a snippet...

When my sorrow was born

When my sorrow was born I nursed it with care, and watched over it with loving tenderness.

And my Sorrow grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.

And we loved one another, my Sorrow and I, and we loved the world about us; for Sorrow had a kindly heart and mine was kindly with Sorrow.

And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Sorrow.

And when we sang together, my Sorrow and I, our neighbors sat at their windows and listenend; for our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.

And when we walked together, my Sorrow and I, people gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness. And there were those who looked with envy upon us, for Sorrow was a noble thing and I was proud with Sorrow.

But my Sorrow died, like all living things, and alone I am left to muse and ponder.

And now when I speak my words fall heavily upon my ears.
And when I sing my songs my neighbours come not to listen.
And when I walk the streets no one looks at me.

Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity, "See, there lies the man whose Sorrow is dead."


And when my joy was born

And when my joy was born I held it in my arms and stood on the house-top shouting, "Come ye, my neighbours, come and see, for Joy this day is born unto me. Come and behold this gladsome thing that laugheth in the sun."

But none of my neighbours came to look upon my Joy, and great was my astonishment.
And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my Joy from the house-top -- and yet no one heeded me. And my Joy and I were alone, unsought and unvisited.

Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine held its loveliness and no other lips kissed its lips.

Then my Joy died of isolation.

And now I only remember my dead Joy in remembering my dead Sorrow. But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs in the wind and then is heard no more.

أقل ما كتب جبران خليل جبران ...

Parables which are lovely to read. They help to simplify life to the values that really matter.

Deliliğimde hürriyetimi ve güvenimi buldum; tek başınalığın özgürlüğünü ve anlaşılmazlığın güvenliğini, çünkü bizi anlayanlar bizden bir şeyleri de tutsak edenlerdir diyor Deli.
"Deli ol ve bize algının pençesinin ardındaki gizleri anlat. Hayatın amacı, bizi bu gizlere yakınlaştırmaktır; ve delilik bunun en hızlı atıdır." Öyleyse, delirelim

İnsanın benliğine değinen kısa ve güzel Cibran metinleri. Anlaşılmamayı yücelten bir tarafı da var bu kitabın. Kısa oluşu hızlı okunmasını sağlasa da kimi kısımların üzerinde biraz düşünmek lazım.

’It is a perfect world, a world of consummate excellence, a world of supreme wonders, the ripest fruit in God’s garden, the master-thought of the universe.
But why should I be here, O God, I a green seed of unfulfilled passion, a mad tempest that seeketh neither east nor west, a bewildered fragment from a burnt planet?
Why am I here, O God of lost souls, thou who art lost amongst the gods?’

Kahlil Gibran is one of my favourite authors hands down. His writing is so profound and beautiful; the simplicity of his work allows you to resonate with everything he says & the themes of love, loss, truth, nature and spirituality are evident without being overdone.

4.5★

favourite parables/poems: prologue, god, my friend, the seven selves, the wise king, the new pleasure, the pomegranate, the blessed city, defeat, night and the madman, the greater sea, the astromoner, the eye, when my sorrow/joy was born, the perfect world

"But memory is an autumn leaf that murmurs a while in the wind and then is heard no more.

Thought-provoking parables on a very of subjects written in a beautiful language. Gibran knows his art. Here is an example:

The Two Cages

In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is a lion, which my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other is a song-less sparrow.

Every day at dawn the sparrow calls to the lion, “Good morrow to thee, brother prisoner.”

القلم الشاعري الثائر .. الكاتب الذي صنع لنفسه هالة خاصة تحجبه عن كل شئ و تضعه في مكانة خاصة رغم مرور كل هذه السنين على كتاباته، يبقى جبران خليل جبران واحدا لن يكرره الزمن.

المجنون الذي قرر التحليق خارج السرب، الثائر وغير الاعتيادي والذي طلق العنان لأفكاره ومشاعره بكل حرية وانطلاق. ليتحفنا بهذا العمل الجميل الذي يجمع بين جمال الاسلوب وثوران المضمون.

قراءة ممتعة قضيت وقتا لطيفا بين سطورها.