A Wordless Song

In the depth of my soul there is a wordless song 

A song that lives in the seed of my heart. 

It refuses to melt with ink on parchment; 

It engulfs my affection 

In a transparent cloak and flows, 

But not upon my lips. 

How can I sigh it? 

I fear it may mingle with earthly ether; 

To whom shall I sing it? 

It dwells in the house of my soul, 
In fear of harsh ears. 

When I look into my inner eyes 

I see the shadow of its shadow; 

When I touch my fingertips 
I feel its vibrations. 

The deeds of my hands heed its presence 

As a lake must reflect the glittering stars; 

My tears reveal it, as bright drops of dew 

Reveal the secret of a withering rose. 

It is a song composed by contemplation, 

And published by silence, 

And shunned by clamor, 

And folded by truth, 

And repeated by dreams, 

And understood by love, 

And hidden by awakening, 

And sung by the soul. 

It is the song of love; 

What Cain or Esau could sing it? 

It is more fragrant than jasmine; 

What voice could enslave it? 

It is heart bound, as a virgin's secret; 

What string could quiver it? 

Who dares unite the roar of the sea 

And the singing of the nightingale? 

Who dares compare the shrieking tempest 

To the sigh of an infant? 

Who dares speak aloud the words 

Intended for the heart to speak? 

What human dares sing in voice 

The Song of God? 

*

Poem and Painting

by

Khalil Gibran