And Almustafa cried out in the
aloneness of his spirit, and he said:
“Heavy-laden is my soul with her own ripe fruit. Who is there would come and take and be satisfied? Is there not one who has fasted and who is kindly and generous in heart, to come and break his fast upon my first yieldings to the sun and thus ease me of the weight of mine own abundance?
My soul is running over with the wine of the ages. Is there no thirsty one to come and drink?
Behold, there was a man standing at the cross-roads with hands stretched forth unto the passers-by, and his hands were filled with jewels. And he called upon the passers-by, saying: ‘Pity me, and take from me. In God’s name, take out of my hands and console me.’
But the passers-by only looked upon him, and none took out of his hand.
Would rather that he were a beggar stretching forth his hand to receive – ay, a shivering hand, and brought back empty to his bosom – than to stretch it forth full of rich gifts and find none to receive.”
“Heavy-laden is my soul with her own ripe fruit. Who is there would come and take and be satisfied? Is there not one who has fasted and who is kindly and generous in heart, to come and break his fast upon my first yieldings to the sun and thus ease me of the weight of mine own abundance?
My soul is running over with the wine of the ages. Is there no thirsty one to come and drink?
Behold, there was a man standing at the cross-roads with hands stretched forth unto the passers-by, and his hands were filled with jewels. And he called upon the passers-by, saying: ‘Pity me, and take from me. In God’s name, take out of my hands and console me.’
But the passers-by only looked upon him, and none took out of his hand.
Would rather that he were a beggar stretching forth his hand to receive – ay, a shivering hand, and brought back empty to his bosom – than to stretch it forth full of rich gifts and find none to receive.”
(Kahlil Gibran, The Garden Of The Prophet, 1933).
