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A Poem by Khalil Gibran : Before the Throne of Beauty XXVI


Before the Throne of Beauty XXVI

One heavy day I ran away from the grim face of society and the dizzying clamor of the
city and directed my weary step to the spacious alley. I pursued the beckoning course
of the rivulet and the musical sounds of the birds until I reached a lonely spot where
the flowing branches of the trees prevented the sun from the touching the earth.
I stood there, and it was entertaining to my soul – my thirsty soul who had seen
naught but the mirage of life instead of its sweetness.
I was engrossed deeply in thought and my spirits were sailing the firmament when a
hour, wearing a sprig of grapevine that covered part of her naked body, and a wreath
of poppies about her golden hair, suddenly appeared to me. As she she realized my
astonishment, she greeted me saying, “Fear me not; I am the Nymph of the Jungle.”
“How can beauty like yours be committed to live in this place? Please tell me who your
are, and whence you come?” I asked. She sat gracefully on the green grass and
responded, “I am the symbol of nature! I am the ever virgin your forefathers
worshipped, and to my honor they erected shrines and temples at Baalbek and Jbeil.”
And I dared say, “But those temples and shrines were laid waste and the bones of my
adoring ancestors became a part of the earth; nothing was left to commemorate their
goddess save a pitiful few and the forgotten pages in the book of history.”
She replied, “Some goddesses live in the lives of their worshippers and die in their
deaths, while some live an eternal and infinite life. My life is sustained by the world of
beauty which you will see where ever you rest your eyes, and this beauty is nature
itself; it is the beginning of the shepherds joy among the hills, and a villagers
happiness in the fields, and the pleasure of the awe filled tribes between the mountains
and the plains. This Beauty promotes the wise into the throne the truth.”
Then I said, “Beauty is a terrible power!” And she retorted, “Human beings fear all
things, even yourselves. You fear heaven, the source of spiritual peace; you fear
nature, the haven of rest and tranquility; you fear the God of goodness and accuse him
of anger, while he is full of love and mercy.”
After a deep silence, mingled with sweet dreams, I asked, “Speak to me of that beauty
which the people interpret and define, each one according to his own conception; I
have seen her honored and worshipped in different ways and manners.”
She answered, “Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give
and not to receive. When you meet Beauty, you feel that the hands deep within your
inner self are stretched forth to bring her into the domain of your heart. It is the
magnificence combined of sorrow and joy; it is the Unseen which you see, and the
Vague which you understand, and the Mute which you hear – it is the Holy of Holies
that begins in yourself and ends vastly beyond your earthly imagination.”
Then the Nymph of the Jungle approached me and laid her scented hands upon my
eyes. And as she withdrew, I found me alone in the valley. When I returned to the city,
whose turbulence no longer vexed me, I repeated her words:
“Beauty is that which attracts your soul, and that which loves to give and not to

Khalil Gibran


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