All praise for ‘The Broken Wings’

Reading ‘The Broken Wings’ by Khalil Gibran was a treat. A pretty small book if counting the no. of pages, but contained the biggest compilation of sad, depressing statements. Infact, some of the words were so awesomely written that i wished i could torture myself. hack myself, bite myself, chop myself to bits. Below is an excerpt from the last chapter (The Rescuer) of this book that describes the death of a newly-born child:

He was born at dawn and died at sunrise…
He was born like a thought and died like a sigh and disappeared like a shadow.
He did not live to console and comfort his mother.
His life began at the end of the night and ended at the beginning of the day, like a drop of few poured by the eyes of the dark and dried by the touch of the light.
A pearl brought by the tide to the coast and returned by the ebb into the depth of the sea….
A lily that has just blossomed from the bud of life and is mashed under the feet of death.
A dear guest whose appearance illuminated Selma’s heart and whose departure killed her soul.
This is the life of men, the life of nations, the life of suns, moons and stars.

But if you think that these were the only masterly crafted words of melancholy in the whole book, try reading this excerpt from the ‘Foreword’ of the same book:

Oh, friends of my youth who are scattered in the city of Beirut, when you pass by the cemetery near the pine forest, enter it silently and walk slowly so the tramping of your feet will not disturb the slumber of the dead, and stop humbly by Selma’s tomb and greet the earth that encloses her corpse and mention my name with deep sigh and say to yourself, “here, all the hopes of Gibran, who is living as prisoner of love beyond the seas, were buried. On this spot he lost his happiness, drained his tears, and forgot his smile.”
By that tomb grows Gibran’s sorrow together with the cypress trees, and above the tomb his spirit flickers every night commemorating Selma, joining the branches of the trees in sorrowful wailing, mourning and lamenting the going of Selma, who, yesterday was a beautiful tune on the lips of life and today is a silent secret in the bosom of the earth.

 

If you are one of the droopy-eyed, sad bearer of your dark passenger, this book is for you.

P.S: read it online at: http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks05/0500551h.html

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