Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    The Prophet
    The Prophet
    The Prophet
    Ebook68 pages46 minutes

    The Prophet

    By Khalil Gibran

    ()

    Switch to audiobook
    Read preview

    About this ebook

    The Prophet is a book of 26 poetic essays written in English in 1923 by the Lebanese-American artist, philosopher and writer Khalil Gibran. In the book, the prophet Almustafa who has lived in the foreign city of Orphalese for 12 years is about to board a ship which will carry him home. He is stopped by a group of people, with whom he discusses many issues of life and the human condition. The book is divided into chapters dealing with love, marriage, children, giving, eating and drinking, work, joy and sorrow, houses, clothes, buying and selling, crime and punishment, laws, freedom, reason and passion, pain, self-knowledge, teaching, friendship, talking, time, good and evil, prayer, pleasure, beauty, religion, and death.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAegitas
    Release dateJan 18, 2019
    ISBN9785340001719

    Read more from Khalil Gibran

    Related to The Prophet

    Related ebooks

    General Fiction For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Echo and Narcissus

      Mar 7, 2022

      Echo and Narcissus
      7 min read

    • Article

      Bard In The Woods

      Nov 30, 2020

      Bard In The Woods
      4 min read

    • Article

      The Island (catullus 64)

      Mar 1, 2022

      Back then the evergreens tumbled downriverfrom the glaze-white runoff to the boot-stirred puddlesof amber young men who fulfilled our destiny,who clambered into ships, on horses, and in wagonspainting the newfound landscapes ours.Our calling was nobl

      9 min read

    • Article

      Death

      Mar 2, 2023

      Death
      1 min read

    • Article

      The Epic Of Gilgamesh

      Jan 1, 2020

      My friends, who can reach heaven? The monster bellows like a river swollen with flood.Many are consumed in his fiery breath. My friends, who can reach heaven? Let us ask the mountain for a sign.Let us cut the spirits from the cedars. My friends, who

      3 min read

    • Article

      from 36 WAYS OF WRITING A VIETNAMESE POEM

      Feb 28, 2023

      You can’t go far wrong with violence.You’ll go far, my boy.You’ll cross oceans, my boy. Start with the Fall, go back or forth,Through bombs or boats,Across all the killing fields of thought. You can’t make it upBecause it’s all yours—by blood.By righ

      4 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Sep 1, 2021

      You don’t understand, he says, again,from the backseat of the car, my son, who only months ago, could not fallasleep before whispering, first, some secret in my ear. When I lookin the rearview, he turns toward peaks in the distance, and when I ask hi

      2 min read

    • Article

      Two Poems

      Sep 1, 2023

      This poem is for everyperson who will neverread it either by choiceor circumstance I writeit in silence wherethe most realparts of our liveslive like a shoe lostin an alley or an emptyboat in a black sea butmore like the fallenleaf on the other sideo

      2 min read

    • Article

      Ilse Kleyn Prophetic Artist

      Jun 24, 2019

      Ilse Kleyn Prophetic Artist
      7 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Jan 1, 2023

      And god created the waves and we the graves beneath, bodies madeparticulate by the force of water against water, water against rock, againsttime. I descend into the deep in a kind of prayer, listen to its centuries.Make me pay, will you, make me hurt

      3 min read

    • Article

      My Bull-faced Tender Friend Was Right About Everything I Consume One Nasturtium After Another Wishing I’d Been Alive When He Found Me First

      May 1, 2020

      but I wasn’t / I was / somebody else’s eurydice and he had none nor any bride though sirens mobbed him and mopped his brow and stole his breath and laughed deep throated laughs around their thighs around his torso as mine would be hands braced agains

      2 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Jul 1, 2022

      The embers of a Thousand YearsUncovered by the HandThat fondled them when they were FireWill stir and understand——from Emily Dickinson’s “1383” Remember when we hurriedourselves into the evening’s sacral blaze: Our coal-covered bridal gownsdrenched i

      6 min read

    • Article

      Collins Ferry Landing

      Jul 1, 2020

      for my father Only rivers bottom out like this.Only rivers bottom out with this kind of conviction.Not humans, or, at least, not humans asindisputably human as you were,trapped in consciousness’s surplus, exilic,animalized absurdity, writhing in its

      5 min read

    • Article

      Home

      Feb 25, 2019

      I once lived in a yellow little house. Each morning, birds convened and sang at my bedroom window. The gate was indigo and inside the garden all kinds of flowers rose to kiss the sunny walls. The yellow nest was filled with cherished books, colourful

      5 min read

    • Article

      A Change Takes Place

      Oct 28, 2019

      A Change Takes Place
      5 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      Mar 4, 2019

      for William Gifford, 1928–2015 The river. Always the same, never the same.Poughkeepsie. A place north of where I am.To remember you is to remember Poughkeepsie.To remember Poughkeepsie is to remember the river.I am downriver now & you are a memoryI

      3 min read

    • Article

      Four Poems

      Nov 1, 2020

      Sitting in the cafe of a local bookstore, I listen to the coffeecolored woman lull her child to sleep. A soothing tongue passes through the gap in her teeth and I can’t help but wonder if this were the song my ancestress sang to give me breath. Givin

      2 min read

    • Article

      The Call Of The Wild

      Nov 30, 2020

      The Call Of The Wild
      2 min read

    • Article

      Earthlings

      Apr 9, 2021

      Earthlings
      5 min read

    • Article

      Poetry Rx: This Is the Year

      Jan 3, 2019

      Poetry Rx: This Is the Year
      7 min read

    • Article

      Jasmine Fingers

      Aug 22, 2019

      Jasmine Fingers
      14 min read

    • Article

      Five Poems

      May 1, 2019

      “My arm is so brown and so beautiful,” is a thought I haveas I’m about to turn off the lamp and go to sleep.I look at it a moment in the soft glow, and see it, briefly,as though it belonged to someone else. A reddishkind of brown, like a toasted almo

      7 min read

    • Article

      An Interview With Xueyan

      Jun 24, 2023

      An Interview With Xueyan
      5 min read

    • Article

      La Globalizzazione In Versi / Globalisation In Verses

      Nov 25, 2022

      Non dico: sono uscito, se ho camminato. Se cammino, cammina con me il mio interno. Il mio interno è esterno, il mio esterno è interno – quando cammino. È l'unità del volto, del cuore e dei piedi: un'altra inclinazione senza come o dove? La magia del

      6 min read

    • Article

      The Healing Power

      Dec 12, 2020

      The Healing Power
      6 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for The Prophet

    0 ratings

    0 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      The Prophet - Khalil Gibran

      Chapter 1. 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, 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.

      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 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

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1