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Khalil Gibran - The prophet, The coming of the ship

The coming of the ship

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld his ship coming with the mist.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul.

But as he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart:

How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret?

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst.

Yet I cannot tarry longer.

The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark.

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould.

Fain would I take with me all that is here. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone must it seek the ether.

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land.

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides,

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind.

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward,

And then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers. And you, vast sea, sleepless mother,

Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade,

And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean.

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates.

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship.

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering?

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn?

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress? Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them?

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups?

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me?

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence?

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?

If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.

Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also.

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak his deeper secret.

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice.

And the elders of the city stood forth and said:

Go not yet away from us.

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream.

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved.

Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him:

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory.

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces.

Much have we loved you. But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled.

Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you.

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

And others came also and entreated him. But he answered them not. He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple.

And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city. And she hailed him, saying:

Prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship.

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you.

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth.

And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish.

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death.

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving within your souls?

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The coming of the ship ||||Прибытие корабля The|arrival||definite article|vessel przybycie|przybycie|przybycie|przybycie stat| |prihod|o||ladja Die Ankunft des Schiffes La llegada del barco 来航 A chegada do navio Прибытие корабля Geminin gelişi Прибуття корабля 船的到来

Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in the city of Orphalese for his ship that was to return and bear him back to the isle of his birth. |||||||ήταν||ανατολή|προς|||||||||||||||||||||φέρει|||||νησί||| the chosen|||||beloved|who he|||daybreak|to||his own|day|||||||||city of Orphalese||||||||and|carry|||||||| |||||||||dageraad|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||trazer de volta|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||Орфалес||||||||||||||||| Elmustafa, seçilmiş||seçilmiş olan|||sevgili||||şafak|için||||||||||şehir||Orphalese şehri|||||||geri dönmek|||||||adaya|||doğum yeri |||||||||aušra|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| المصطفى||||||الذي|||فجر|||||||||في||||||||||إلى|تعود|||إليه|||||||ولادته ||||||||||como||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| |||||улюблений|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||острів||| Almustafa||izbrani|||ljubljeni|ki|||zora|za||||||dvanajst|||||||||||||se vrniti|||||||||| Almustafa||||||||||||||||||||||Orphalese||||||||||||||||| Almustafa|||||ukochany|który|był||świt|na|swojej|swoim|dzień|czekał|czekał|dwanaście||w|ten|||Orphalese|na|||||||||||||||| Almustafa, el elegido y el amado, que fue un amanecer hasta su propio día, había esperado doce años en la ciudad de Orphalese por su barco que regresaría y lo llevaría de regreso a la isla de su nacimiento. Seçilmiş ve sevilen, kendi gününün şafağı olan Almustafa, Orphalese şehrinde on iki yıl boyunca geri dönüp onu doğduğu adaya götürecek olan gemisini beklemişti. Алмустафа, обраний і улюблений, який був світанком для свого дня, чекав дванадцять років у місті Орфалес на свій корабель, який мав повернутися і відвезти його назад на острів його народження.

And in the twelfth year, on the seventh day of Ielool, the month of reaping, he climbed the hill without the city walls and looked seaward; and he beheld his ship coming with the mist. |||δώδεκατη|||||||Ιελοόλ||||θερισμού|||||||||||προς τη θάλασσα|||είδε||||||ομίχλη ||||||||||September||||harvest|||||outside of||the city||||toward the sea|||saw||||||fog ||||||||||Ielool|||||||||||||||||||||||| ||||||||||Иелул||||||||холм|||||||в море|||увидел|||||| |||on ikinci|||||||İlül||||biçme ayı||tepeye çıktı|||||||||denize doğru|||gördü||||||sisle birlikte ||||||||||Tishrei||||derliaus nuėmimo|||||||||||||||||||| ||||السنة|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||murach miasta|||||||||||| ||||||||||||||жнивування|||||||||||в море||||||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||v morje||||||||| ||||||||||Ielool||||korjuu|||||||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||cosecha|||||||||||hacia el mar|||vio|||||| І в дванадцятому році, на сьомий день Іелула, місяця жнив, він піднявся на пагорб поза міськими стінами і поглянув на морський обрій; і він побачив свій корабель, що приближається з туманом.

Then the gates of his heart were flung open, and his joy flew far over the sea. |||||||άνοιξαν διάπλατα||||||||| |||||||thrown open|||||soared|||| ||kapıları|||||açıldı||||||||| O zaman kalbinin kapıları açıldı ve sevinci denizin ötesine uçtu. Тоді ворота його сердця відчинилися, і його радість полетіла далеко над морем. And he closed his eyes and prayed in the silences of his soul. ||||||||||||inner self |||||||||sessizliklerinde||| ||||||||||||duše Gözlerini kapadı ve ruhunun sessizliğinde dua etti.

But as he descended the hill, a sadness came upon him, and he thought in his heart: |||κατέβαινε||||||||||||| |||came down||||sorrow||||||||| |||||||||üstüne||||||| |||спускався|||||||||||||

How shall I go in peace and without sorrow? |should|||||||sadness ||||||||keder Nay, not without a wound in the spirit shall I leave this city. ||||wound|||||||| Hayır|||||||||||| Long were the days of pain I have spent within its walls, and long were the nights of aloneness; and who can depart from his pain and his aloneness without regret? ||||||||||||||||||soledad||||||||||soledad|| |||||suffering|||||||||||||loneliness||||||||||||regret ||||||||||||||||||yalnızlık||||ayrılmak|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||самотність||||покинути||||||||жаль Długie|były|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Too many fragments of the spirit have I scattered in these streets, and too many are the children of my longing that walk naked among these hills, and I cannot withdraw from them without a burden and an ache. ||κομμάτια||||||σκορπίσει||||||||||||πόθου||||||||||αποσυρθώ|||||βάρος|||πόνο ||||||||spread||||||||||||desire|||bare||||||cannot|pull back|||without||weight or pain|||ache ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||çekilmek|||||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||našta||| |||||||Я|розкидані||||||||||||прагнення|||голі|||||||відступити|||||тягар|||біль |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||carga||| Занадто багато частин духу я розсипав у цих вулицях, і занадто багато дітей моєї туги ходять голими серед цих пагорбів, і я не можу відступити від них без тягарю та болю.

It is not a garment I cast off this day, but a skin that I tear with my own hands. ||||ένδυμα||||||||||||||| ||||clothing||||||||||||||| ||||giysi||||||||||||||| ||||одяг||||||||||||||| Це не одяг, який я скидаю сьогодні, а шкіра, яку я рву своїми руками.

Nor is it a thought I leave behind me, but a heart made sweet with hunger and with thirst. |||||||||||||||hunger|and|| І не думка, яку я залишаю позаду, а серце, зроблене солодким від голоду і спраги.

Yet I cannot tarry longer. |||задерживаться| |||stay| |||παραμείνω| |||Daha fazla kalamam.| |||užtrukti| |||viipyä| |||permanecer|

The sea that calls all things unto her calls me, and I must embark. |||||||||||||ξεκινήσω |||||||||||||išplaukti |||||||||||||board |||||||||||||yola çıkmak

For to stay, though the hours burn in the night, is to freeze and crystallize and be bound in a mould. ||||||||||||||κρυσταλλοποιηθεί||||||καλούπι ||||||||||||||||||||formos šablonas ||||||||||||||||||||shape ||||||||||||||kristalleşmek||||||kalıp

Fain would I take with me all that is here. с радостью||||||||| Voluntarily||||||||| Memnuniyetle||||||||| gustosamente||||||||| με χαρά||||||||| Gostaria de levar comigo tudo o que existe aqui. But how shall I?

A voice cannot carry the tongue and the lips that gave it wings. Alone must it seek the ether. |||||эфир |||||void |||||eter |||||éter cósmico |||||eetteri

And alone and without his nest shall the eagle fly across the sun.

Now when he reached the foot of the hill, he turned again towards the sea, and he saw his ship approaching the harbour, and upon her prow the mariners, the men of his own land. ||||||||||||||||||||||||||нос|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||port||||prow|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||boeg|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||πλώρη||ναυτικές ομάδες|||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||pruva üzerinde|||||||| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||proa||||||||

And his soul cried out to them, and he said:

Sons of my ancient mother, you riders of the tides, |||||||||παλίρροιες ||||||travelers|||waves

How often have you sailed in my dreams. And now you come in my awakening, which is my deeper dream.

Ready am I to go, and my eagerness with sails full set awaits the wind. |||||||стремление|||||||

Only another breath will I breathe in this still air, only another loving look cast backward, |||||||||||||||behind me

And then I shall stand among you, a seafarer among seafarers. ||||||||sailor||sailors ||||||||marinero||marineros And you, vast sea, sleepless mother, ||||without sleep|

Who alone are peace and freedom to the river and the stream,

Only another winding will this stream make, only another murmur in this glade, ||||||||||||clearing ||meandro||||||||||

And then shall I come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless ocean. ||||||||limitless|||||ocean ||||||||sin límites||||sin límites|

And as he walked he saw from afar men and women leaving their fields and their vineyards and hastening towards the city gates. |||||||||||||farms fields|||grape fields|||||| |||||||de lejos|||||||||||apresurándose||||

And he heard their voices calling his name, and shouting from field to field telling one another of the coming of his ship. ||listened to|||||||yelling|||||||||||||

And he said to himself:

Shall the day of parting be the day of gathering? ||||separation|||||coming together

And shall it be said that my eve was in truth my dawn? |||||||evening|||truth||

And what shall I give unto him who has left his plough in midfurrow, or to him who has stopped the wheel of his winepress? |||||||||||||viduryje arimo||||||||||| |||||||||||plow||mid-furrow||||||||wheel|||wine press |||||a él||||||arado||en medio del surco|||||||||||lagar de vino Shall my heart become a tree heavy-laden with fruit that I may gather and give unto them? |||||tree|burdened|laden||||||collect|||| |||||||cargada de|||||||||a ellos|

And shall my desires flow like a fountain that I may fill their cups? |||wishes or longings|flow|||fountain||||fill||cups |||||||||||llene||

Am I a harp that the hand of the mighty may touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through me? |||harp||||||powerful||touch||||musical instrument|||||pass|through|

A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure have I found in silences that I may dispense with confidence? |||||||||||||||||teikti|| |seeker|||||||treasure|||||||||share or give||self-assurance |||||||||||||||||dispenso||

If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons? ||||||reaping||||||sowed||seed||||forgotten|seasons ||||||||||||he sembrado||||||no recordadas|

If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein. ||certainly||||||||||light source|||||light||||in it |||||||||||||||||||||dentro de ella

Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern, ||dark|||lift||

And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil and he shall light it also. ||guardian||||||||oil||||ignite||

These things he said in words. But much in his heart remained unsaid. |||||was left|unsaid ||||||no dicho For he himself could not speak his deeper secret. ||||||||secret

And when he entered into the city all the people came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as with one voice. |||went into||||||||||||||shouting||||as if|||

And the elders of the city stood forth and said: ||leaders||||stepped forward|forward||

Go not yet away from us. depart||||from|

A noontide have you been in our twilight, and your youth has given us dreams to dream. ||||||||||||provided|||| |mediodía||||||crepúsculo|||||||||

No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but our son and our dearly beloved. |unknown person|||among us||||visitor||||||beloved|

Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face. Endure|||||||||face

And the priests and the priestesses said unto him: ||clergy|||female priests||| |||||sacerdotisas||dijeron a|

Let not the waves of the sea separate us now, and the years you have spent in our midst become a memory. |||waves||||divide|||||||||||midst|||recollection of the past

You have walked among us a spirit, and your shadow has been a light upon our faces. ||||||||your|presence|||||||features

Much have we loved you. |||loved| But speechless was our love, and with veils has it been veiled. |silent||||||veils||||hidden |||||||velos||||

Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand revealed before you. |||calls|out loud||||||exposed||

And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation. |||||||žino||||||||| |always||||||understands||||depth|||||separation ||||||||||swoją||||||

And others came also and entreated him. |||||begged| |||||verzochten| |||||suplicaron| But he answered them not. ||answered|| He only bent his head; and those who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast. ||leaned down||head||||||||crying weeping||||chest

And he and the people proceeded towards the great square before the temple. |||||moved forward|||large|plaza|||temple

And there came out of the sanctuary a woman whose name was Almitra. ||||||temple||||||Almitra ||||||||||||Almitra And she was a seeress. ||||regėtoja ||||female seer ||||zieneres ||||vidente femenina

And he looked upon her with exceeding tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and believed in him when he had been but a day in their city. ||||||greatly|gentleness||||||||sought out||had faith|||||||||||| And she hailed him, saying: ||called out to|| ||saludó||

Prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost, long have you searched the distances for your ship. Prophet||God||search|||farthest extent||||sought||vast expanses||| |||||||máximo extremo|||||||||

And now your ship has come, and you must needs go.

Deep is your longing for the land of your memories and the dwelling place of your greater desires; and our love would not bind you nor our needs hold you. |||||||||past experiences|||home||||greater|||||||restrict|||||| |||||||||||||||||||||||atraparían|||||| ||||za|twojej||z||||two||||||||||||||||||

Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak to us and give us of your truth. ||||before||||||||||||||

And we will give it unto our children, and they unto their children, and it shall not perish. |||||||||||||||||neišnyks |||||||||||||||||cease to exist |||||naszym||||||||||||

In your aloneness you have watched with our days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to the weeping and the laughter of our sleep. |||||observed|||||||alertness|||heard|||crying|||joyful sounds||| ||||||||||||vigilia||||||||||||

Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell us all that has been shown you of that which is between birth and death. |consequently|reveal|||||||||||revealed|||||||||death ||revelanos||||||||||||||||||||

And he answered,

People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of that which is even now moving within your souls? |||||||||||||||stirring|||spirits