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Chapter 1 - The Coming of the Ship |
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 lmustafa,
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. |
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| 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? |
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| 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. |
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| 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 l? 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. |
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| 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. |
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| 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, sleeping 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
I shall come to you, a boundless drop to a boundless
ocean. |
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| 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. |
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| 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 slough 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. |
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| These things he said in words. But much in his
heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not speak
his deeper secret. |
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| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| 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. |
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| 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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