f_fattal
19/08/2007, 02:58
Jibran Kh. Jibran
Who writes?
The poet writes the poem, or the poem writes him?
A question came to me when I started thinking to speak about J. Kh. Jibran the poet.
The same question about the philosopher and the artist who was born near Lebanon Mountain in 1883.
He did many great works in poetry philosophy, and drawing.
He died in 1931 but his works prevent us from forgetting.
His poetry, art and philosophy recreated him and pronounced him as an immortal pyramid in the desert of the modern Arab literature and the international literature.
Read to see his work and think you’ll find that he is young in age but very old in life, he is like young men fund of beauty, looking for love and he is like old men crazy about wisdom and searching for truth.
He said: “I’ll reach all facts I’ll know every thing unknown, I’ll cry, laugh, I’ll pass all seasons, I’ll be where I want to be”.
His works make us think deeply; and that’s dangerous, so if you are afraid of thinking don’t read, don’t see.
One man said: “J. Kh. Jibran came to the west bringing with him the beautiful smile of the east with an expensive gilt in his chest to the west, he was like Jesus his heart full of love to the all mankind.
Let us look at one of his works. The greatest one (The Prophet)”.
He opened a new world, planted a magic orchard, sank in a very deep colored sea, he gave wings to the mankind to fly in the sky of thinking, beauty and love, so they may be reach someday to the humanity.
Is he a believer or not? Another question.
If you believe in freedom, love, thinking imagination and all things that deal with mind, spirit, feelings, dreams as away to reach to the God, you’ll find him a great believer, a real prophet “prayed in the silence of his soul” and if you an ignorant bigot you will say he is not he is fatless.
The prophet is not just a story but it’s a hard searching in life, literature, art wisdom, philosophy, you must look behind sentences, words, pictures and you will discover bit truths which helps you to enter the heaven on the earth now and in the sky later.
His ideas seem strange and far for the first look but after understanding you’ll say: I am sure. Pure, right, precious and it’s like the butterfly flutter upon you to invite you for dancing in the spring at a green morning between roses and birds far away from the rush of steel, money, power hateness and sadness.
Listen to his words:
“Love gives naught but it sell and take’s naught but from itself.
When you love you should not say, God is in my heart, but rather, I am in the heart of God.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself”.
“Work is love made visible”
“Your pain is the breathing of the shell that encloses your understanding”
“You are good when you are one with yourself”
“I can not teach you the prayer of the seas and the forests and the mountains. But you who are born of the mountains and the forests and the seas can find their prayers in you heart”
So his words still sparkle in the depths like falling stars in the street, sometime in silence, sometime in noise sweet echoes in the mind.
F. Fattal
Who writes?
The poet writes the poem, or the poem writes him?
A question came to me when I started thinking to speak about J. Kh. Jibran the poet.
The same question about the philosopher and the artist who was born near Lebanon Mountain in 1883.
He did many great works in poetry philosophy, and drawing.
He died in 1931 but his works prevent us from forgetting.
His poetry, art and philosophy recreated him and pronounced him as an immortal pyramid in the desert of the modern Arab literature and the international literature.
Read to see his work and think you’ll find that he is young in age but very old in life, he is like young men fund of beauty, looking for love and he is like old men crazy about wisdom and searching for truth.
He said: “I’ll reach all facts I’ll know every thing unknown, I’ll cry, laugh, I’ll pass all seasons, I’ll be where I want to be”.
His works make us think deeply; and that’s dangerous, so if you are afraid of thinking don’t read, don’t see.
One man said: “J. Kh. Jibran came to the west bringing with him the beautiful smile of the east with an expensive gilt in his chest to the west, he was like Jesus his heart full of love to the all mankind.
Let us look at one of his works. The greatest one (The Prophet)”.
He opened a new world, planted a magic orchard, sank in a very deep colored sea, he gave wings to the mankind to fly in the sky of thinking, beauty and love, so they may be reach someday to the humanity.
Is he a believer or not? Another question.
If you believe in freedom, love, thinking imagination and all things that deal with mind, spirit, feelings, dreams as away to reach to the God, you’ll find him a great believer, a real prophet “prayed in the silence of his soul” and if you an ignorant bigot you will say he is not he is fatless.
The prophet is not just a story but it’s a hard searching in life, literature, art wisdom, philosophy, you must look behind sentences, words, pictures and you will discover bit truths which helps you to enter the heaven on the earth now and in the sky later.
His ideas seem strange and far for the first look but after understanding you’ll say: I am sure. Pure, right, precious and it’s like the butterfly flutter upon you to invite you for dancing in the spring at a green morning between roses and birds far away from the rush of steel, money, power hateness and sadness.
Listen to his words:
“Love gives naught but it sell and take’s naught but from itself.
When you love you should not say, God is in my heart, but rather, I am in the heart of God.
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself”.
“Work is love made visible”
“Your pain is the breathing of the shell that encloses your understanding”
“You are good when you are one with yourself”
“I can not teach you the prayer of the seas and the forests and the mountains. But you who are born of the mountains and the forests and the seas can find their prayers in you heart”
So his words still sparkle in the depths like falling stars in the street, sometime in silence, sometime in noise sweet echoes in the mind.
F. Fattal