The Madman by Kahlil Gibran – Project Gutenberg

The Madman by Kahlil Gibran – Project Gutenberg Australia

THE GREATER SEA

My soul and I went to the great sea to bathe. And when we reached the shore, we went about looking for a hidden and lonely place.

But as we walked, we saw a man sitting on a grey rock taking pinches of salt from a bag and throwing them into the sea.

“This is the pessimist,” said my soul, “Let us leave this place. We cannot bathe here.”

We walked on until we reached an inlet. There we saw, standing on a white rock, a man holding a bejewelled box, from which he took sugar and threw it into the sea.

“And this is the optimist,” said my soul, “And he too must not see our naked bodies.”

Further on we walked. And on a beach we saw a man picking up dead fish and tenderly putting them back into the water.

“And we cannot bathe before him,” said my soul. “He is the humane philanthropist.”

And we passed on.

Then we came where we saw a man tracing his shadow on the sand. Great waves came and erased it. But he went on tracing it again and again.

“He is the mystic,” said my soul, “Let us leave him.”

And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man scooping up the foam and putting it into an alabaster bowl.

“He is the idealist,” said my soul, “Surely he must not see our nudity.”

And on we walked. Suddenly we heard a voice crying, “This is the sea. This is the deep sea. This is the vast and mighty sea.” And when we reached the voice it was a man whose back was turned to the sea, and at his ear he held a shell, listening to its murmur.

And my soul said, “Let us pass on. He is the realist, who turns his back on the whole he cannot grasp, and busies himself with a fragment.”

So we passed on. And in a weedy place among the rocks was a man with his head buried in the sand. And I said to my soul, “We can bath here, for he cannot see us.”

“Nay,” said my soul, “For he is the most deadly of them all. He is the puritan.”

Then a great sadness came over the face of my soul, and into her voice.

“Let us go hence,” she said, “For there is no lonely, hidden place where we can bathe. I would not have this wind lift my golden hair, or bare my white bosom in this air, or let the light disclose my sacred nakedness.”

Then we left that sea to seek the Greater Sea.

Mi chiedi come sia io diventato un folle’ Acadde così’
Un giorno, molto prima che molti degli dei fossero generati,
mi svegliai da un profondo sonno e scoprii che tutte le mie maschere
mi erano state rubate – le sette maschere che in sette vite
io avevo foggiato e indossato.
E senza maschera corsi per le vie
affollate gridando: “Ladri, ladri, maledetti ladri!”
Uomini e donne ridevano di me, e alcuni corsero a rinchiudersi
nelle loro case per paura di me.
E quando giunsi nella piazza del mercato, un giovane mi gridò
dal tetto di una casa: “E’un folle!” Volsi lo sguardo là in alto per guardarlo;
e il sole mi baciò per la prima volta il volto nudo.
Per la prima volta il sole baciò il mio volto nudo, e la mia anima
avvampò d’amore per il sole, e non desiderai più le mie maschere.
E come in trance gridai: “Benedetti, benedetti siano i ladri che rubarono le nie maschere”.
Fu così che divenni un folle.
E ho trovato iibertà e salvezza nella mia pazzia:
libertà di solitudine e salvezza dall’essere compreso,
giacché coloro che ci comprendono asserviscono qualcosa in noi.
Ma non vorrò essere troppo fiero di questa mia salvezza.
Anche un ladro in prigione è salvo da un altro ladro.

Kahlil Gibran


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