kahlil gibran

[rockyb4me.livejournal.com]

The Enchantress
by kahlil gibran


The woman whom my heart has loved sat yesterday in this lonely room and rested her lovely body upon this velvet couch. From these crystal goblets she sipped the aged wine.
This is yesterdays dream; for the woman my heart has loved is fone to a distant place-- the Land of Oblivion and Emptiness.
The print of her fingers is yet upon the mirror; and the fragrance of her breathing is still within the folds of my garments; and the echo og her sweet voice can be heard in this room.
but the woman my heart has loved is gone to a distant place called the Valley of Exile and Forgetfullness.
By my bed hangs a portrait of this woman. The love letters she wrote to me i have kept in a silver case, studded wiht emeralds and coral. And all these things will remain with me till tommorow, when he wind will blow them away into oblivion, where only mute silence reins.
The woman i have loved is like the women to whom you have given your hearts. She is strangel beautiful, as if fashioned by a god; as meek as a dove, as wiley as the serpent, as proud and graceful as the peacock as fierce as the wolf, as lovely as the white swan, and as fearful as the black night. She is compounded of a handful of earth and a beakerful of sea-foam.
I have known this woman since childhood. I have followed her into the fields and laid hold of the hem of her garments as she walked in the streets of the city. I have known her since the days of my youth, and i have seen the shadow of her face in the pages of the books i have read. I have heard her heavenly voice in the murmur of a brook.
To her i opened my hearts discontents and the secrets of m soul.
the woman my heart has loved is gone to a cold, desolate and distant place-- the Land of Emptiness and Oblivion.
The woman my heart has loved is called LIFE. she is beautiful, and draws all hearts to herself. She takes out lives in pawn and buries our yearnings in promises.
Life is a woman bathing in the tears of her lovers and anointing herself with the blood of her victims. Her rainments are white days, lined with the darkness of night. She takes the human heart to lover, but denies herself in marriage.

Life is an inchantress
Who seduces us with her beauty---
But he who knows her wiles
Will flee her enchantments.

Comments

[ex-riverblue937.livejournal.com]

This is wonderful! Thanks for posting it.