Yet spring, reposing within you, smiles
in her drowsiness and is not offended.
Think not I say these things in
order that you may say the one to the
other, “He praised us well. He saw but
the good in us.”
I only speak to you in words of that
which you yourselves know in thought.
And what is word knowledge but a shadow
of wordless knowledge?
Your thoughts and my words are waves
from a sealed memory that keeps records
of our yesterdays,
And of the ancient days when the earth
knew not us nor herself,
And of nights when earth was up-wrought
with confusion.
*****
Wise men have come to you to give you
of their wisdom. I came to take of your
wisdom:
And behold I have found that which is
greater than wisdom.
It is a flame spirit in you ever
gathering more of itself,
While you, heedless of its expansion,
bewail the withering of your days.
It is life in quest of life in
bodies that fear the grave.
*****
There are no graves here.
These mountains and plains are a cradle
and a stepping-stone.
Whenever you pass by the field where
you have laid your ancestors look well
thereupon, and you shall see yourselves
and your children dancing hand in hand.
Verily you often make merry without
knowing.
Others have come to you to whom for
golden promises made unto your faith
you have given but riches and power and
glory.
Less than a promise have I given, and
yet more generous have you been to me.
You have given me my deeper thirsting
after life.
Surely there is no greater gift to a man
than that which turns all his aims
into parching lips and all life into a
fountain.
[Illustration: 0125]
And in this lies my honour and my reward,--
That whenever I come to the fountain
to drink I find the living water itself
thirsty;
And it drinks me while I drink it.
*****
Some of you have deemed me proud and
over-shy to receive gifts.
Too proud indeed am I to receive wages,
but not gifts.
And though I have eaten berries among
the hills when you would have had me sit
at your board,
And slept in the portico of the temple
when you would gladly have sheltered me,
Yet was it not your loving mindfulness
of my days and my nights that made food
sweet to my mouth and girdled my sleep
with visions?
For this I bless you most:
You give much and know not that you give
at all.
Verily the kindness that gazes upon itself in a mirror turns to
stone,
And a good deed that calls itself by
tender names becomes the parent to a
curse.
*****
And some of you have called me aloof,
and drunk with my own aloneness,
And you have said, “He holds council
with the trees of the forest, but not
with men.
He sits alone on hill-tops and looks
down upon our city.”
True it is that I have climbed the hills
and walked in remote places.
How could I have seen you save from a
great height or a great distance?
How can one be indeed near unless he be
far?
And others among you called unto me, not
in words, and they said,
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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