The Fool by Kahlil Gibran (2023)

Title: The Fool: His Parables and Poems
Author: Kahlil Gibran
E-book number: 0500601h.html
English language
Publication date: June 2005
Date of last update: March 2014

This ebook was produced by Stuart Kidd

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You ask me how I got mad. It happened like this: one day, long before many gods were born, I woke up from a deep sleep and found that all my masks had been stolen, the seven masks I created and wore in seven lives, I ran without a mask through streets full of people screaming : "Thieves, thieves, damn thieves."

Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their homes in fear of me.

And when I got to the market square, a young man standing on the roof of a house shouted, "He's crazy." I looked up to see him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I no longer wanted my masks. And how in a trance I cried: "Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks."

Then I got mad.

And I found at the same time the freedom of solitude and the security of being understood, because whoever understands us enslaves something in us.

But don't be too proud of my security. Even a thief in prison is safe from another thief.

In ancient times, when the first tremor of my word came to my lips, I climbed the holy mountain and spoke to God, saying: “Master, I am your slave. Your hidden will is my law and I will obey you forever.

But God did not answer, and everything passed like a strong storm.

And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke to God again, saying: “Creator, I am your creation. You formed me from the mud and I owe it all to you.

And God did not answer, but flew by like a thousand swift wings.

And after a thousand years I went up to the holy mountain and spoke to God again, saying: “Father, I am your son. Out of pity and love you gave birth to me, and out of love and worship I will inherit your kingdom.”

And God did not answer, and like the mist that covers the distant hills, he passed away.

And after a thousand years I climbed the holy mountain and spoke to God again, saying: “My God, my goal and my attainment; I am your yesterday and you are my tomorrow. I am your root in the earth and you are my flower in the sky, and together we grow before the face of the sun.

Then God bent over me, and in my ears he whispered words of sweetness, and as the sea envelops a brook that runs into it, it enveloped me.

And when I went down to the valleys and plains, God was there too.

Man, I'm not what I seem. Appearance is just a garment I wear, a carefully woven garment that protects me from your questions and you from my neglect.

The me in me, my friend, lives in the house of silence, and there it will remain forever, unnoticed, unreachable.

I do not want you to believe what I say or trust what I do, for my words are but your own thoughts in sound and my works your own hopes in action.

When you say, "The wind blows east," I say, "Yes, it blows east"; because I don't want you to know that my mind doesn't stop on the wind but on the sea.

You cannot understand my sailor thoughts, nor do I want you to understand them. I would be alone at sea.

When with you it is day, my friend, with me it is night; yet I speak of the noonday that dances over the hills and the crimson shadow that creeps across the valley; Because you can't hear the songs of my darkness or see my wings beating against the stars, and I wish you couldn't hear or see. I would be alone with the night.

When you ascend to your Heaven, I descend to my Hell, yet you call me from the other side of the impassable abyss: "My comrade, my comrade", and I call you: "My comrade, my comrade", because I would not have . you see my hell The flame would burn your vision and the smoke would clog your nostrils. And I love my Hell too much for you to visit. I would be alone in hell.

You love Truth, Beauty and Justice; and to you I say it is good and decent to love these things. But in my heart I laughed at your love. However, I don't want you to see my laugh. I would laugh alone.

My friend, you are good, cautious and wise; no, you are perfect, and I also speak to you with wisdom and caution. And yet I'm crazy. But I hide my madness. I would go crazy alone.

My friend, you're not my friend, but how can I make you understand? My path is not your path, but together we walk, hand in hand.

I once said to a scarecrow, "You must be tired of standing in this lonely field."

And he said, "The joy of scaring is deep and lasting, and I never get tired of it."

I said, after a minute of thinking, “That's true; for I, too, have known that joy.

He said: "Only those who are full of straw can know."

So I left him, not knowing whether he had praised or belittled me.

A year passed, during which the scarecrow became a philosopher.

And when I passed him again, I saw two crows nesting under his hat.

In the city where I was born, there lived a woman and her daughter, who were sleepwalkers.

One night, as silence enveloped the world, the woman and her daughter, walking, still sleeping, found themselves in their mist-veiled garden.

And the mother spoke and said: “Finally, finally, my enemy! You, for whom my youth was destroyed, who built your life on the ruins of mine! I wish I could kill you!"

And the daughter spoke, and said: “O hateful, selfish old woman! Who stands between me and my freest self! Who would want my life to be an echo of his withering! You would be dead!

At that moment a rooster crowed and the two women woke up. The mother said quietly, "Is that you, dear?" And the daughter kindly replied: "Yes, dear."

One day a wise dog passed by a company of cats.

And when he approached and saw that they were very attentive and did not pay attention to him, he stopped.

Then a big, serious cat stood up in the middle of the crowd, looked at them and said: “Brothers, pray for you; and when you pray repeatedly without hesitation, then verily it will rain mice.”

And when the dog heard this, he laughed in his heart and walked away from them saying: “O blind and foolish cats! Is it not written, and did not I and my parents know before me, that what rains down through prayer, faith and supplication are not mice? buttons.

On a lonely mountain lived two hermits who worshiped God and loved each other.

Now these two hermits had an earthenware bowl, and this was their only possession.

One day an evil spirit entered the heart of the older hermit and he approached the younger one and said, “We have lived together for a long time. The time has come for us to part. Let's divide our assets.

Then the younger hermit became sad and said: “I am sorry, brother, that you left me. But if you have to go, so be it”, and he brought the clay bowl and gave it to him saying, “We cannot share it, brother, let it be yours”.

Then the elder hermit said: “I will not accept charity. I won't take anything but mine. It must be divided."

And the youngest said: “If the bowl breaks, what good is it to you or me? If that sounds good to you, we better give him luck.

But the elder hermit said again: “I will only have justice and mine, and I will not trust justice and mine to chance. The bowl must be divided."

Then the younger hermit could not continue reasoning and said: "If it is really your will, and even so you wanted it, let us now break the bowl."

But the elder hermit's face became extremely grim and he shouted, "You damned coward, you wouldn't fight."

There once was a man who had a valley full of needles. And one day the mother of Jesus approached him and said: “Friend, my son's clothes are torn and I need to mend them before he goes to the temple. Won't you give me a needle?

And he didn't give her a needle, but he gave her a learned speech on Giving and Receiving to take to her son before he went to the temple.

In the quietest hour of the night, while I was half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus spoke in whispers:

First me: Here, in this madhouse, I've lived all these years, doing nothing but renewing your pain by day and recreating your pain by night. I can't take my fate anymore and now I rebel.

According to me: Yours is much better than mine, brother, because it was given to me to be the happy self of this madman. I laugh at your laughter and sing your happy hours, and on three-winged feet I dance your brightest thoughts. I would rebel against my jaded existence.

Third Self: What about me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I, the passionate I, who would rebel against this madman.

Fourth Self: I, among all of you, am the most miserable, because nothing has been given to me but hateful hatred and destructive revulsion. It is I, the being like a storm, the one born in the black caverns of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.

Fifth Self: No, it's me, the thinking self, the fantasy self, the hunger and thirsty self, the one condemned to wander restlessly in search of unknown things and things not yet created; It is I, not you, who would rebel.

Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful workman, who, with patient hands and anxious eyes, shapes the days into images and endows the formless elements with new and eternal forms, it is I, the lone one, who would rebel against this restless madman.

Seventh Self: How strange that all of you rebel against this man, because each of you has a predetermined destiny to fulfill. Oh! If only I could be like one of you, a me with a certain amount of luck! But I don't, I'm the me that does nothing, the one that is silent, empty nowhere and at no time, while you are busy recreating life. Is it you or I, neighbors, who should rebel?

When the seventh I spoke thus, the other six looked at him with pity, but said no more; and as the night deepened, one after another they went to sleep in a new and happy submission.

But the seventh self remained looking and contemplating the nothingness, which is behind all things.

One night a feast was held in the palace, and a man came and prostrated himself before the prince, and all the attendants looked at him; and they saw that one of his eyes was leaking and that the empty socket was bleeding. And the prince asked him: "What happened to you?" And the man replied: "O prince, I am a thief by profession, and this night, because there was no moon, I went to rob the money changer's house, and entering through the window I made a mistake and entered the weaver." sshop, and in the dark I found the weaver's loom and my eye was put out. And now, O prince, I ask the weaver for justice.

So the prince sent for the weaver and he came, and it was decreed that one of his eyes should be put out.

“O prince,” said the weaver, “the decree is just. It is fitting that one of my eyes should be taken. And yet, alas! both are necessary so that I can see both sides of the web I weave. But I have a neighbor, a shoemaker, who also has two eyes, and in his trade two eyes are not necessary.

So the prince sent for the shoemaker. And he came and plucked out one of the shoemaker's two eyes.

And justice was satisfied.

Once a mighty and wise king ruled in the distant city of Wirani. And he was feared for his power and loved for his wisdom.

Now, in the heart of that city there was a well, the water of which was fresh and clear, from which all the inhabitants drank, even the king and his courtiers; because there was no other well.

One night, when everyone was sleeping, a witch entered the city and poured seven drops of a strange liquid into the well and said: "From this hour onwards, whoever drinks this water will go mad."

The next morning, all the inhabitants, except the king and his chamberlain, drank from the well and went mad, just as the witch had predicted.

And during that day the people in the narrow streets and in the markets did nothing but whisper among themselves: “The King is mad. Our King and his chamberlain have lost their minds. We certainly cannot be ruled by a mad king. We must dethrone him.

That night, the king ordered a golden cup to be filled from the well. And when they brought it to him, he drank a lot and gave it to his chamberlain to drink.

And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani, because its king and its lord chamberlain had come to their senses.

Three men met at a table in a tavern. One was a weaver, another a carpenter, and the third a farmer.

The weaver said, “Today I sold a shroud of fine linen for two pieces of gold. Let's drink all the wine we want.

“And I,” said the carpenter, “sold my best casket. We’ll have a great barbecue with wine.”

“I only dug one hole,” said the farmer, “but my master paid me twice as much. Let's eat honey cakes too."

And all that night the tavern was busy, for they often ordered wine, meat, and cakes. And they were happy.

And the host rubbed his hands and smiled at his wife; for his guests were spending freely.

When they left, the moon was high and they went down the road singing and shouting together.

The host and his wife stood at the door of the tavern and looked after them.

"Oh!" said the wife, “these gentlemen! So free and so gay! I wish they could bring us so much luck every day! So our son doesn't have to be a bartender and work so hard. We could educate him and he could become a priest.”

Three days after I was born, as I lay in my silk crib, looking in wonder and dismay at the new world around me, my mother spoke to the nurse and said, "How is my son?"

And the nurse replied, “Okay ma'am, I've fed him three times; and never before had I seen a baby so young and so happy.

And I was indignant; and I exclaimed: “It is not true, mother; because my bed is hard, and the milk I have sucked is bitter to my mouth, and the smell of the breast is disgusting in my nostrils, and I feel very unhappy.

But my mother didn't understand, nor did the nurse; because the language I spoke was the language of the world I came from.

And on the twenty-first day of my life, while I was being baptized, the priest said to my mother: "Madam, you really should be happy that your son was born a Christian."

And I was surprised and said to the priest: "Then your heavenly mother must be unhappy, because you were not born a Christian."

But the priest didn't understand my language either.

And after seven moons, one day a fortune teller looked at me and said to my mother, "Your son will be a statesman and a great leader of men."

But I shouted, “That is a false prophet; because I will be a musician, and I will be nothing but a musician.”

But even at that age they didn't understand my language, and my astonishment was great.

And after thirty-three years, during which my mother, the nurse and the priest died (may God's shadow be on their spirits), the diviner still lives. And yesterday I found him near the temple gates; and as we talked he said, “I always knew you would become a great musician. Even in your childhood I prophesied and foretold your future."

And I believed him, because now I too have forgotten the language of that other world.

Once, when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate tree, I heard a seed say, "Someday I will become a tree, and the wind will sing in my branches, and the sun will dance in my leaves, and I will be strong and beautiful at the same time." time." for all of this." the seasons."

Then another seed spoke and said: “When I was as young as you are, I also held such opinions; but now that I can weigh and measure things, I see that my hopes were in vain."

And a third seed also spoke: "I don't see anything in us that promises such a great future."

And a fourth said: "What a joke our lives would be without a greater future!"

A fifth said: "Why dispute what we will be, when we don't even know what we are?"

But a sixth responded: "Whatever we are, that's what we'll continue to be."

And a seventh said: "I have such a clear idea of ​​how it's all going to be, but I can't put it into words."

Then an eight spoke, and a ninth, and a tenth, and then many, until they all spoke, and I couldn't understand a thing because of the many voices.

And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where those seeds are few and almost silent.

In my father's garden there are two cages. In one is Alion, which my father's slaves brought from the desert of Ninavah; in the other is a sparrow without a song.

Every day, at dawn, the sparrow calls the lion: "Good morning, brother prisoner."

Three ants found themselves on the nose of a man who was sleeping in the sun. And after they had greeted each other according to the custom of their tribe, they stayed there talking.

The first ant said, “These hills and plains are the driest I have ever known. I looked all day for some kind of grain and did not find it.

The second ant said: “I haven't found anything either, although I've visited every nook and cranny. This is, I think, what my people call a flat, moving land where nothing grows.

Then the third ant raised its head and said: “My friends, we are now in the nose of the Supreme Ant, the mighty and infinite Ant, whose body is so large that we cannot see it, whose shadow is so vast that it cannot track it. it. . , whose voice is so loud that we cannot hear it; and He is omnipresent.”

When the third ant spoke like this, the other ants looked at each other and laughed.

At that moment the man stirred and in a dream he raised his hand and scratched his nose, and the three ants were crushed.

Once, as I was burying one of my deceased loved ones, the gravedigger walked by and said to me, "Of all those who come here to bury, I am the only one who likes you."

I said, "I really like you, but why do you like me?"

"Because," he said, "they come crying and crying, you just come laughing and you go away laughing."

In my youth, I was told that in a certain city everyone lived according to the Scriptures.

And I said, I will seek that city and its blessings. And it went far. And I made great provisions for my journey. And after forty days I saw the city and on the forty-first day I entered it.

And lo! the whole company of the inhabitants had but one eye and one hand. And I was astonished and said to myself: Could the people of this holy city have but one eye and one hand?

Then I saw that they too were amazed, for they were greatly amazed at my two hands and my two eyes. And as they were talking among themselves, I asked them, saying, "Is this really the Blessed City, where every man lives according to the Scriptures?" And they said, "Yes, this is that city."

"So what happened to you," I said, "and where are your right eye and right hand?"

And all the people were moved. And they said, "Come and see."

And they took me to the temple in the middle of the city, and in the temple I saw many hands and eyes. everything withered So I said: “Ow! What conqueror committed this cruelty against you?

And there was a murmur between them. And one of the older ones stepped forward and said, “This work is ours. God made us conquerors of the evil that was in us”.

And he led me to a high altar, and all the people followed him. And he showed me on the altar an engraved inscription, and I read:

“If your right eye causes you to fall, pluck it out and throw it away; for it is better for you that one of your members perish, than that your whole body be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to fall, cut it off and throw it away from you; for it is better for you to lose one of your members than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.

Then I got it. And I turned to all the people and cried, Is there not male or female among you two eyes or two hands?

And they answered me saying, “No, none. There are none except those who are still too young to read the scriptures and understand its commandments.”

And when we left the temple, I immediately left that blessed city; because he was not very young and he knew how to read the scriptures.

The Good God and the Evil God met at the top of the mountain.

The good Lord said, "Good morning to you, brother."

The Heretic God did not answer.

And the good Lord said: "Today you are in a bad mood."

"Yes," said the Heretic God, "because lately I've often been mistaken for you, called by name and treated as if I were you, and it disgusts me."

And the good Lord said: "But I too was confounded with you and called by your name."

The Evil God walked away cursing the man's stupidity.

Defeat, my Defeat, my loneliness and my withdrawal; You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs and sweeter to my heart than all the glories of the world.

Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, Because of you I know I'm still young and quick on my feet And that withered laurels won't reach me. And in you I found solitude And the joy of being rejected and despised.

Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, In your eyes I read That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, and to be understood is to be leveled, And to be grasped is to reach fullness and fall like a ripe fruit. and it was consumed.

Defeat, my Defeat, my intrepid companion, You will hear my songs, my screams and my silences, And no one but you will tell me about the flapping of wings, And the roar of the seas, And of the mountains that burn at night, And you alone climbs my steep and rocky soul.

Defeat, my Defeat, my immortal courage, You and I will laugh together with the storm, And together we will dig graves for all that die in us, And we will rise to the sun with will, And we will be dangerous.

“I am like you, O Night, dark and naked; I walk the fiery path above my dreams, and every time my foot touches the ground, a giant oak tree appears."

"No, you're not like me, you crazy one, because you still look back to see the size of the footprint you leave in the sand."

“I am like you, O Night, silent and deep; and in the heart of my solitude lies a Goddess in the child's bed; and in the one being born, Heaven touches Hell”.

"No, you are not like me, oh madman, for you still tremble in the face of pain, and the song of the abyss terrifies you."

“I am like you, O Night, wild and terrible; for my ears are full of the cries of conquered nations and the sighs of forgotten lands."

"No, you are not like me, you madman, because you still consider yourself a comrade, and with your monstrous self you cannot be friends."

“I am like you, O Night, cruel and terrible; for my breast is torn apart by burning ships at sea, and my lips are wet with the blood of slain warriors.

“No, you are not like me, oh, crazy; for the desire of a kindred spirit is still upon you, and you have not stooped down to yourself.

“I am like you, oh Night, merry and happy; because he who lives under my shadow is already drunk on virgin wine, and he who follows me is sinning for joy.”

"No, you are not like me, oh madman, because your soul is wrapped in the seven-fold veil and you do not have your heart in your hand."

“I am like you, O Night, patient and passionate; because in my chest a thousand dead lovers are buried in shrouds of withered kisses.

“Yes, crazy, are you like me? You are like me? And can you ride the storm like a steed and catch the lightning like a sword?

“Like you, oh Night, like you, mighty and tall, and the mitron is built on mounds of fallen gods; and before me also pass the days to kiss the hem of my dress, but never to look into my face.

Are you like me, child of my darkest heart? And do you think my wild thoughts and speak my vast tongue?

“Yes, we are twins, oh Night; because you reveal space and I reveal my soul.”

I saw a face with a thousand countenances, and a face that was but a countenance as if it were contained in a mold.

I saw a face whose glow I could see through the ugliness below, and a face whose glow had to be lifted up to see how beautiful it was.

I saw an old face very wrinkled without anything, and a smooth face on which everything was engraved.

I know faces, because I look through the fabric my own eye weaves and contemplate the reality below.

My soul and I went to bathe in the great sea. And when we reached the shore, we looked for a hidden and lonely place.

But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a gray rock taking pinches of salt from a bag and throwing it into the sea.

“This is the pessimist,” said my soul, “let's leave this place. We can't shower here.

We continued walking until we reached a cove. There we saw, standing on a white rock, a man holding a box of jewels, from which he took sugar and threw it into the sea.

"And this is the optimist," said my soul, "And he must not see our naked bodies either."

Later we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead fish and lovingly throwing them back into the water.

"And we can't shower in front of him," said my soul. "He is the human philanthropist."

And we passed.

Then we arrived where we saw a man tracing his shadow in the sand. Big waves came and took her away. But he kept tracking over and over again.

"He is the mystic," said my soul, "let us leave him."

And we walked on, until in a quiet place we saw a man collecting the foam and putting it in an alabaster bowl.

"He is the idealist," said my soul, "Surely he must not see our nakedness."

And we kept walking. Suddenly we heard a voice shouting: “This is the sea. This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea.” And when we got to the voice, it was a man with his back to the sea, and he was holding a shell to his ear, listening to its murmur.

And my soul said, “Come on. He is the realist, the one who turns his back on the whole he cannot understand and deals with a fragment.

So we passed. And in a weedy place among the rocks there was a man with his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul: "We can take a shower here, he can't see us."

“No,” said my soul, “because he is the deadliest of all. He's the Puritan."

Then a great sadness took over the face of my soul and his voice.

“Let's get out of here,” he said, “because there isn't a lonely, hidden place where we can bathe. I do not want this wind to lift my golden hair, nor to uncover my white breast in this air, nor for the light to reveal my sacred nakedness.

So we left that sea to look for the Mar Maior.

I shouted to the men, “I want to be crucified!”

And they said: Why should his blood fall on our heads?

And I replied, "How else will you be exalted but by crucifying fools?"

And they listened to me and I was crucified. And the crucifixion appeased me.

And when I was dangling between earth and heaven, they lifted up their heads to see me. And they were exalted, because their heads had never been raised before.

But when they looked at me, one shouted, "What do you want to atone for?"

And another shouted, "For what cause do you sacrifice?"

And a third said: "Do you think with that price to buy world glory?"

Then a fourth said: "Look how he smiles! Can this pain be forgiven?

And I answered them all, and I said:

“Just remember that I smiled. I make no atonement, nor sacrifice, nor desire glory; and I have nothing to forgive. I was thirsty and I begged you to give me my blood to drink. For what can quench a madman's thirst but his own blood? I was mute, and I asked you for mouth sores. I was trapped in its days and nights and I looked for a door to wider days and nights.

“And now I leave, as others who were crucified have left. And don't think that we are tired of the crucifixion. Because we must be crucified by bigger and bigger men, among bigger lands and bigger skies”.

In the shadow of the temple, my friend and I saw a blind man sitting alone. And my friend said: "Here is the wisest man in our land."

So I left my friend and went up to the blind man and greeted him. And we talked.

After a while I said to him: “Excuse my question; but since when are you blind?

"Since my birth," he replied.

I said, "And what path of wisdom do you follow?"

He said, "I am an astronomer."

Then he placed his hand on his chest saying, "I watch all these suns, moons and stars."

Here I sit between my brother the mountain and my sister the sea.

The three of us are one in solitude, and the love that unites us is deep and strong and strange. No, it is deeper than my sister's depth and stronger than my brother's strength and stranger than the strangeness of my madness.

Ages and ages have passed since the first gray dawn made us visible to each other; and though we have seen the birth, end, and death of many worlds, still we are young and anxious.

We are young and eager, and yet we have no partners, no visitors, and although we are in an uninterrupted half-hug, we are not comfortable. And what solace is there for controlled desire and unconsumed passion? Where will the flaming god come from to warm my sister's bed? And what stream will quench my brother's fire? And who is the woman who will dominate my heart?

In the dead of night, my sister mutters in her sleep the unknown name of the god of fire, and my brother calls from afar to the cold and distant goddess. But who I call in my dream, I don't know.

Here I sit between my brother the mountain and my sister the sea. The three of us are one in solitude, and the love that unites us is deep and strong and strange.

Said a blade of grass to an autumn leaf: “You make such a noise when you fall! You scatter all my winter dreams.

The sheet said indignantly: “Of low birth and low housing! Thing without song, irritable! You do not live in the upper air and cannot distinguish the sound of singing.

Then the autumn leaf fell to the ground and fell asleep. And when spring came, he woke up again and he was a blade of grass.

And when autumn came and her winter sleep fell upon her, and above her all through the air the leaves were falling, she murmured to herself: “Oh, these autumn leaves! They make so much noise! They dispel all my winter dreams.

The Eye once said: “I see beyond these valleys mountains veiled with blue mist. Is not it beautiful?

The Ear listened, and after listening attentively for a while, said: “But where is the mountain? I do not hear.

Then the Hand spoke and said, "I am trying in vain to feel or touch it, and I cannot find any mountain."

And the Nose said, "There is no mountain, I can't smell it."

Then the Eye turned the other way and everyone started talking about the Eye's strange mistake. And they said, "Something must be going on with the Eye."

Once upon a time there lived in the ancient city of Afkar two learned men who hated each other and despised each other's knowledge. Because one of them denied the existence of the gods and the other was a believer.

One day the two met in the market square, and in the midst of their followers they began to dispute and argue about the existence or non-existence of the gods. And after hours of arguing they broke up.

That night, the unbeliever went to the temple and prostrated himself before the altar and begged the gods to forgive his rebellious past.

And at the same time the other scholar, the one who had defended the gods, burned their holy books. Because he had become an unbeliever.

When my Pain was born, I nursed her tenderly and nursed her with loving tenderness.

And my Pain grew like all living things, strong and beautiful and full of wonderful pleasures.

And we loved each other, my Pain and I, and we loved the world around us; because sadness had a kind heart and mine was kind to sadness.

And when we talked, my Pain and I, our days had wings and our nights were girded with dreams; because Pain had an eloquent tongue, and mine was eloquent with Pain.

And when we sang together, my Pain and I, our neighbors would sit at their windows and listen; because our songs were deep as the sea and our melodies were full of strange memories.

And when we walked together, my Pain and I, people looked at us with tender eyes and whispered words of extraordinary sweetness. And there were those who looked at us with envy, because Pain was a noble thing and I was proud of Pain.

But my Pain died, like all living beings, and I only remain to meditate and meditate.

And now, when I speak, my words fall heavily on my ears.

And when I sing my songs, my neighbors don't come to listen.

And when I walk down the street nobody looks at me.

Only in my dream do I hear voices that say with pity: "Look, there lies the man whose Sadness died."

And when my joy was born, I held it in my arms and stood on the roof of the house shouting: “Come, my neighbors, come and see, because joy was born for me on this day. Come behold this merry thing that laughs in the sun.

But none of my neighbors came to see my joy, and great was my astonishment.

And every day for seven moons I proclaimed my joy from the roof of the house, but no one listened. And my joy and I were alone, not wanted and not visited.

Then my joy turned pale and weary because no other heart but mine had her beauty and no other lip kissed her lips.

So my joy died of isolation.

And now I only remember my dead Joy remembering my dead Sadness. But memory is an autumn leaf that rustles in the wind for a while and then is heard no more.

God of lost souls, you who are lost among the gods, hear me:

Sweet Destiny that cares for us, wandering and mad spirits, hear me:

I live in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.

I, human chaos, nebula of confused elements, move among finished worlds, peoples of complete laws and pure order, whose thoughts are varied, whose dreams are ordered and whose visions are inscribed and recorded.

Your virtues, O God, are measured, your sins are weighed, and even the numberless things that pass in the dark twilight of neither sin nor virtue are recorded and catalogued.

Here, days and nights are divided into seasons and governed by rules of impeccable precision.

Eat, drink, sleep, cover your nakedness, and then be weary in due time.

Work, play, sing, dance and then stand still when the clock strikes.

To think like that, to feel so much, and then to stop thinking and feeling when a certain star appears over the horizon.

Steal from a neighbor with a smile, give gifts with a graceful wave of the hand, praise prudently, censure cautiously, destroy a sound with a word, burn a body with a breath, and then wash your hands when the day's work is done. done.

To love according to an established order, to entertain one's best in a preconceived way, to worship the gods decorously, to intrigue the demons with cunning, and then to forget everything as if memory were dead.

Imagine rightly, contemplate thoughtfully, rejoice sweetly, suffer nobly, and then empty the cup that tomorrow it may be filled again.

All these things, O God, are conceived with foresight, born with determination, nurtured with exactitude, governed by rules, directed by reason, and then killed and buried according to a prescribed method. And even their silent graves that lie within the human soul are marked and numbered.

It is a perfect world, a world of consummate excellence, a world of supreme wonder, the ripest fruit in the garden of God, the master thought of the universe.

But why should I be here, oh God, me, a green seed of unfulfilled passion, a maddened storm that seeks neither east nor west, a confused fragment of a burned planet?

Why am I here, O God of lost souls, you who are lost among the gods?