AL MUSTAFA the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth. And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielol, 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 silences of his soul.
Thus begins The Prophet, a timeless masterpiece by the Lebanese poet Gibran Khalil Gibran. As the prophet Al Mustafa prepares to leave on his ship, the people of Orphalese come one last time, asking for him to share his wisdom. And so he does, on a variety of subjects from love to houses, clothes to prayer, beauty, pleasure, and finally, death.
I really love this book, and not only because it gives me a chance to practice my Arabic. Just about every line in this epic poem is both moving and profound, and gives you pause not only to think, but to feel, and feel deeply. One cannot help but feel that Khalil Gibran was a man who knew not only great joy, but also great pain in his life–pain which made his soul all the greater.
Like many things Middle East, however, the book is not without controversy. I have no doubt that many of my friends would find some words in this book with which they would strongly disagree. Even some of my Arab friends don’t like it for (I suspect) that reason. However, even though I don’t necessarily agree with everything in here, it’s such a thoughtful book and makes so many good points that I can’t help but love it.
The style is very Arab, which is to say it’s a lot wordier and more colorful than most modern English literature. From what I’ve heard, though, Khalil Gibran wrote this in English first, and then translated it into Arabic. Still, it has a distinctive Middle Eastern feel to it, which I love. One of my favorite passages:
Yet I cannot tarry longer.
The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.
For to 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.
That’s exactly how I felt before I left Utah, and one of the main driving reasons why I’m leaving to start a career teaching English abroad. In dozens of passages like this, Gibran’s words reflect my own feelings even better than anything I could ever write.
I suppose that’s what poetry is all about; using words in such a way that you can really make people feel. Gibran is a master of that, which is probably why he’s the third bestselling poet in the world (after Shakespeare and Lao-Tzu). Regardless, this is definitely a book that I will read over and over, in English and in Arabic.
