Khalil Gibran and the dominance of the heart

How can what Khalil Gibran has written be explained; after reading each of Gibran’s books, such a question arises prominently. The main reason is that he has cancelled the connection and unity of place, time, and character from his writing. He has omitted direct accompaniments or material elements and described life and the heart in such a way that it is not individual but collective, and not temporary but eternal. We may somewhat feel the tears of a lover afflicted by separation; but in reading Gibran, it seems the lover’s anguished heart is expressing its lament, and what has been inscribed appears as if written with the blood of a bereaved heart. I have not seen anyone before or till now openly express the heart in such torn language, in such enriched discourse, as Gibran has. Where other writers’ works show brain-born thought, experience, the material world, nature, the world system, politics, progress, and the influence or predominance of human life, in Gibran there is the heart’s wailing, oppression, and dominance. This dominance is no less than material observation or empire; its influence is evident in the thoughts of Gibran’s countless readers scattered worldwide.

The style (form and structure) Gibran chose for his narration was also not a follower of the conventional language of literature. Many analysts have opined that Gibran studied deeply the Arabic Bible and the Holy Quran, and the manner of expression in which he projected his thoughts was influenced by the styles of these two scriptures. He expressed heart’s introspection and spirituality at a time when indulgence and materialism had entrenched themselves in the world, although this contrast did not at all suppress the spark of his wisdom. Gibran possessed an unparalleled creation of imagery, dreaminess, and intensity, which attracted his admirers but for which many literary critics have labelled him as a romanticist.

Gibran, through presenting the Eastern sensibility and spirituality before the Western material world, attempted to establish an internal connection between East and West, where his success can be marked to a special extent. At the end of the day, a person will look within themselves and reflect on time and inner resonance; there the poets and artists will present before them the diverse branches of dreams and feelings. Poets and artists essentially describe this demand of the heart in various ways and make it necessary. Carl Gustav Jung said nearly the same thing in his essay ‘The Poet’ — “A poet or an artist fulfils the spiritual necessity of their time, and for this reason, the artist often values their artwork more than their own life, although they may not always realise it.”

Without the origin and excellence of thought, without the awakening of the heart, art that is built merely on the material world and its processes is much like a lifeless puppet; although it may create temporary excitement, it quickly loses significance and transforms into a nearly extinct subject. Eternal literature and artwork are those ancient works before us that are still practised with significance today; alongside the observation of beauty, they are revered for their spiritual awareness, recognition, and moral excellence. Benedetto Croce, in the field of art criticism, deeply examined the spiritual essence of the artist. He believed that art is the manifestation of spiritual practice. Moreover, he termed all artistic activities as ‘operari spirituale’ or spiritual work. In the light of these evaluative perspectives, Khalil Gibran’s literature and paintings are an inexhaustible source of spirituality and heart’s introspection, where the discipline of the heart is more powerful than the turmoil of time or the aggression of the era. In his works, the individual’s heart does not appear as a mere individual; this individual seems infinite and boundless in its expanse. Against the multitudes of millions of humans, this singular heart also harbours great desire and significance, and it was to liberate this that his artistic endeavour was active.

2.
In the fable titled ‘The Dancer’ from the book The Wanderer, in response to the prince’s question about the source of novelty in dance, the dancer replies— “The philosopher’s soul dwells in his brain, the poet’s soul dwells in his heart, the singer’s soul lingers in his vocal cords; but the dancer’s soul is with his whole body.”

The poet’s soul dwells in his heart; this statement we will deeply observe throughout Gibran’s entire writings and paintings. In creating the setting in his writing, the timeless geographical wanderings he chooses as the real backdrop fully include Lebanon, the moonlight over Mount Sinai, the view of Biblos from the sea, the evergreen forest covered with snow, sheep and cows roaming beneath the green valley, or the fierce storm in the Qadisha valley. Through these fragmentary spatialities, Gibran has created a heart-world, at this stage we will attempt to experience that world through reading its various parts.

It can be said without doubt that Gibran’s greatest book is The Prophet, one of the most widely discussed and read books in the world. There has been enormous global discussion about its significance; it even affected Gibran himself, as his own comment seems to reveal: ‘Before handing the manuscript to the publisher, I asked for four years so that I could use the best word in every instance.’

Al Mustapha, the beloved of God exiled on a remote island, has been waiting for twelve years to return to his homeland. During these twelve years, he has formed a sweet friendship with the people of Orphalese, who all consider him their own and do not want to lose him. When his return becomes inevitable amidst various conversations, a woman politely says to him— “Before you leave, I ask of you this: say something to us, give us something of your truth. And we will give it to our children and they to their children, and it will never be destroyed.”

Then, in response to questions, he expresses his wisdom on 26 topics, which after more than a hundred years continues to enrich people’s spiritual awakening. On the subject of love, he said: ‘Love crushes you like dough until you are soft, and then entrusts you with its holy fire, which can turn you into sacred bread for God’s feast.’ Then the almites said, regarding marriage, the Lord said— “Share your bread with each other but do not all eat from the same loaf. Dance, sing, and be joyous together; but let yourselves be alone. Like the strings of a lute, though they are solitary, they vibrate with the same tune.”

Nowadays we see in society that parents impose the burden of their desires on their children. The parents wish for the boy to become a doctor, but the boy wants to be an artist. Some boys want to study science but are forced to study law. Regarding this matter, a wonderful statement is made in the chapter ‘On Children’. “They come through you but not from you. And though they are with you, you are not their owners. You can give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.”

In response to a woman’s call, he spoke about pain, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding. Most of your pain you have chosen yourselves. Trust the physician and drink his antidote, in silence and tranquility, for though heavy and strong, this hand is guided by the gentle hand of the unseen, and the cup it carries, though it burns your lips, is made from the clay that the potter has moistened with his own sacred tears.”

In answer to a poet’s question, while explaining about beauty, he first described how different people analyse beauty, such as—oppressed say beauty is kind and humble; the night watchman says beauty will rise with the dawn from the east. On these thoughts he said— “You have not spoken about it in truth as much as you have spoken about unfulfilled desire.”

Then he presented the true form of beauty— “Beauty is a heated heart and an enchanted soul. O Orphalese, beauty is life when life unveils its holy face. But you are life and you are the veil. Beauty is eternity, that which looks at itself in the mirror with steady gaze. But you are eternity and you are the mirror.”

Khalil Gibran’s other famous book Sand and Foam reveals the poet’s self-realisation and existential awareness. This book, composed of short poetic prose pieces in the Maxim tradition, expresses philosophical statements and insights on various aspects of life, much like the small, scattered presences of sand and foam on the seashore. Although we live in the present, the record of thousands of years of passing time remains active within us. “We were restless creatures of eager longing, thousands of years ago the sea and forest air gifted us words. How can we now explain the antiquity of our days merely through yesterday’s cluster of sounds?” Humans perceive the soul as immortal, infinite, yet the origin of the soul—when and how it begins—remains unknown to us today. One stanza in Sand and Foam presents a mysterious and dramatic statement about the soul’s rotation: “My second birth occurred when my soul and body loved each other and married.”

Gibran repeatedly emphasised the significance of human dreams with great profundity. He compared the grandeur of dreams to great wealth and even power. According to him, the significance and status of two people’s dreams indicate their own spiritual state. While there may be exceptions, at least in regard to dreams, life is not biased; he said, “When those who sleep on the earth have no dreams more beautiful than those who sleep on beds, how can I lose faith in life’s justice?” Some of Gibran’s lines cannot be simply interpreted in ordinary terms. Among them are oppositional directives that hinder grasping their inherent meaning; perhaps this too is a mystery or veil that protects his essence. “The truly free man is the one who patiently bears the burden of slavery’s bonds.”

We often think of ourselves as separate, special, yet nearly all our actions depend on others. On this, a stanza resonates profoundly: “Your brightest garment was woven by another person, your most comfortable bed lies in another’s house. Tell me then, how do you separate yourself from another?” There may be temporary flashes in noise, but the splendour of wisdom always resides in silence, as a line expresses in a novel style: “Though the waves of words are always upon us, our depths are forever silent.”

Regarding ownership and rights of wealth, some thinkers and even economists have stated that ownership of wealth is equal for all. The poor have rights over the surplus wealth of the rich, though these messages exist only in books and bear no real fruit. Sand and Foam presents an exemplary view of generosity where restraint and humility are essential even in giving: ‘In truth, you do a public service especially when you give; and when you give, turn your face away so that the recipient’s shame does not see you.’

Though immersed in the system of materialism and the agony of the age and busy with all day-to-day activities, there is a heartfelt matter in every human’s heart, which Kahlil Gibran has only slightly kindled, then those hearts burned with their own fire. It is like Rabindranath’s song— “You lit the fire of melody in my soul. That fire spread everywhere.” The power of Gibran’s inspiring words can be felt by seeing their strong influence worldwide. In the story ‘The Furious Storm’ from the book ‘Between Night and Morn,’ he has unveiled the false mask of civilisation. How humans, driven by bodily desire, shamelessly chose barbarism, ignoring the response of the inner self, Gibran shows directly through the narration and life process of Yousif Al Fakhr. Yousif tells a curious young man about himself— ‘I abandoned civilisation because I noticed it was an old and corrupt tree, strong and dreadful, whose roots are inactive due to the obscurity of the soil and whose branches have reached above the clouds, and because of its flowering greed is born. Satan thinks bad thoughts and crime is born; its fruits are sorrow, misery and fear.’ Yousif has chosen solitude for the liberation of civilisation, hoping that humans will be purified. “Will there come a time when humans will become still and accept the right hand of truth and rejoice in the daylight and in the peaceful silence of night? Can dreams become reality? Will this be realised after the earth is covered in human skin and stained with blood?”

‘Broken Wings’ is the name of one of Kahlil Gibran’s finest narratives. Many critics have described this work as his autobiographical story. It is basically an unparalleled story of love where not only their hearts but also the reader’s soul trembled in their joy and pain. Gibran and Salma Karimi are the lovers of this story whose families were obstacles rather than supporters, and the unjust dominance of the church bishop destroyed them and broke their flying wings. Salma’s marriage was fixed with Mansur Bey, the bishop’s ill-tempered brother. At their last meeting— ‘her lips looked like two dried rosebuds, which autumn had left on the branch. Her neck was like a pillar made of ivory and it was bent forward as if the burden of her sorrow pressed on her brain.’ They both sat side by side on a bench, staring at each other, their conversation seemed to have ended; after a long silence, Salma said faintly, “Oh my friend, look at me. Observe my face carefully and read there what you want to know and what I cannot say. Look at me, oh my dear one, my brother, look at me.” The word ‘brother’ uttered in Salma’s voice seemed to pierce the heart with a higher connotation. In their agony of separation, they prayed: “Ah, O God, have mercy and mend our wings.” The last part of Broken Wings surpasses the outcome of any tragedy. Salma had a daughter but the child died just after the sun rose at dawn. Holding the dead child in her arms, she said, “Take me with you and come, let us abandon this dark cave.” After a while, Salma also gained the right to accompany her daughter. After everyone left following their burial, the gravedigger had a brief conversation with Gibran. “I went near and asked, ‘Do you remember where Faris Effendi (Salma’s father) was buried?’ He looked at me for a moment. Then pointed towards Salma’s grave and said, ‘Right there. I also put her daughter there. Right above her and her child’s chest rests on it.’ Then I said, ‘You have also given me a grave inside this pit.’”

Another widely read book by Gibran is Nymph of the Valley. Among its stories appear various natural and social scenes of Lebanon; descriptions of how the rule imposed through misinterpretation and injustice by priests and those in power devours the weak. The story “Martha” in this book particularly demands attention. Martha is an orphan—who inherited only the tears of sorrow from her mother. For a bit of food and a place to rest her head, she used to graze a neighbour’s milking cow because Martha was the most unfortunate among the distant hills and valleys. One day, a horseman lured her away from the valley with his splendour, luxurious attire, and the false temptation of love. She expresses her anguish, “The man did everything through his smile, sweet words, and affection, and he hid his lust and real desires. After he was satisfied, he left with the poverty of my soul, and within me he left a burning flame that discoloured my liver and grew with speed.” In the end, the girl lived in destitution with her only son, in a place where girls sold their bodies and souls cheaply. A few days later, she contracted a deadly disease and died. After the dreadful night of death— “at dawn, Martha’s body was laid in a wooden coffin and carried on the shoulders of two poor men. She was buried in a desert because the priest would not pray for her, nor even allow her bones to rest in the cemetery. Only the sign of the cross guarded the grave. No mourner came to this remote burial ground, except for her son and another boy—whose own experience of dire existence had taught him sympathy.”

In the book Tears and Laughter, in the piece titled “The Death of the Poet”, we find a dreadful image of a poet’s life— “He was a poet and was withering from hunger in the city of the wealthy. He had been placed in the worldly realm to enliven the human heart through his beauty and profound conversations. But sadly, he happily bid farewell to the cold earth without even receiving a smile from the marvellous possessor... Yet a thousand years later, people awakened from the disease of ignorance and erected a memorial for the poet and organised feasts, whose writings had brought them freedom! How cruel is human ignorance!”

In the book Spirits Rebellious, we see Gibran’s heart proclaiming rebellion against social inequality and natural injustice. His soul weeps with those who were deprived and displaced by merchants and landlords. In the voice of a poor widow, his heart rises in protest— “against those priests who have turned Christ’s compassionate teachings into a sharp sword, with which they slit human throats and tear apart the bodies of the weak.”

3.
Kahlil Gibran’s paintings appear to be visualisations of his profound thoughts and expressions. What he could not clarify in writing seems to bloom in hints through his art, and some paintings even have their narratives in his texts. Each artwork seems to arrive bearing immense mystery and inexpressible secrecy, long sought after by the searching heart. The influence of English poet and painter William Blake is notable in his drawings; sculptor Rodin referred to him as the “William Blake of the twentieth century.” Some critics believe that French sculptor Auguste Rodin also influenced Gibran’s drawing style. Gibran’s artworks seem to echo the soul and symbolise sorrow with a pure nakedness, as if all coverings and adornments—symbols of the world’s manifold entanglements—have been forbidden here. Looking at the painting The Burden, one feels life as a helpless woman endlessly carrying the weight of suffering, she cannot lay down; sorrow seems her only child. The painting The Struggle appears to signify humanity’s endless striving toward love and desire; despite striving with all its might, it remains distant from the fruits of fulfilment, though God’s blessings surround it.

Several translators, including Kabir Chowdhury, have translated Gibran’s The Prophet, Sand and Foam, Broken Wings, and one or two other books into Bangla, but the work of poet Mostafa Mir can be said to have achieved the near-impossible. He translated fifteen books by Gibran with great dedication. The Collected Works of Kahlil Gibran we read today is the result of his long effort. It becomes clear that unless someone holds deep affection, they cannot translate so many works of a single author. And the way he has rendered Gibran’s poetry and metaphysical discourse into Bangla gives us an idea of his own poetic ability. He has recently passed away, and alongside his creative works, the love and gratitude of Bengali-speaking writers and readers for his translations of Kahlil Gibran will, I hope, endure for a long time.

Kahlil Gibran was a mystic and intellectual figure with an eternal thirst; like those seekers of life’s mystery, his ears were attuned to the truth, and his eyes were alert to perceive beauty. Far more than wealth, weapons, influence, or grandeur, he was drawn toward the liberation and welfare of the heart. What remained unexpressed in his creative writings came forth openly in a short piece titled Your Thought and Mine. “Your thought preserves the glory of the nation through its heroes. It sings hymns of praise to Rameses, Alexander, Caesar, Hannibal, and Napoleon; but my thought claims as true heroes Confucius, Laozi, Socrates, Plato, Abu Talib, Al-Ghazali, Jalaluddin Rumi, Copernicus, and Louis Pasteur.”

The speciality of Kahlil Gibran lies not only in each of his books, but in nearly every sentence of his writings—powerful, meaningful, and worthy of detailed interpretation. His works are full of deep, hidden dialogues of life, abundant with mystery and the interplay of truth and falsehood. Literary works, especially poetry, often lose their essence in translation; their linguistic nuances fade. Yet, even what has come through in translation of Gibran’s work remains precious, almost like sacred hymns that captivate the soul. The Lebanese artist Fairuz has rendered The Prophet and Give Me the Flute into music, breaking them into melody and song; even there, beyond ordinary musicality, the songs express a unique divine rapture. It is truly impossible to exhaust what can be said about Gibran. Just as we often fail to give language to our emotions, or language itself fails to contain certain feelings, so too is Gibran a translator of sensation. He must be read—he must be felt—if one truly seeks to unearth the hidden treasures of the heart.

Soumya Salek: Poet and essayist