Daughters of the Sea, by Khalil Gibran
In the depths of the ocean that surrounds the isles near the sun's rising-place was the dead body of a youth. Around him, among the coral plants, sat the golden-haired daughters of the sea gazing on him through their beautiful blue eyes. They spoke softly in tones of music, and their words were taken up by the deep and borne by the waves to the shore, whence the breeze carried them to my spirit's hearing.
Said the first one: “This is a human who came down yesterday when the sea was angry.”
And a second one said: “Nay, the sea was not angry. But this man – such are called those descended from the gods – was in a war in which much blood was shed until the water became the color of red. This human is a victim of that war.”
Said a third: “I know not what war means, but I know that man was not satisfied with his conquest of the dry land but coveted the lordship of the oceans and invented strange machines to cleave the waters. Then Neptune, god of the seas, came to know, and he was angry because of this enmity. And man was made to appease our sovereign with sacrifices and offerings. That which we beheld yesterday descending was man's latest offering to mighty Neptune.”
A fourth one said: “How great is Neptune, but how hard is his heart! If I were mistress of the seas I would not be pleased with bloody sacrifices. Come, let us look on this dead youth; mayhap we learn something of humankind.”
Then the daughters of the sea drew near to the body and searched in the pockets of his garment. In the garment nearest his heart was a letter, which one of them took and read: “My darling. Midnight has struck and I keep vigil sleepless, with no one to console me save my tears and no body to comfort me but my hope in your return to me from the terrors of war. Well do I recall what you did tell me when we parted, that with every man are tears as a trust that must be returned one day.
“I know not, my love, what I write; rather shall I let my soul flow onto the paper. A soul tormented by misery and consoled by love, which makes suffering a delight and grief a joy.
“When love made one our two hearts and we awaited the union of two bodies within which was one spirit, war called you and you followed it, impelled by duty to your country. Yet what thing is this duty that separates lovers and makes of women widows and of children orphans? What thing is this patriotism which for little causes calls to war to lay in ruins upon the land? What is this duty that fastens itself upon the wretched villages, but is heeded not by the strong and privileged?
“If duty exiles peace from among nations, and patriotism makes havoc of man's tranquility, then away with duty and patriotism! . . . No, my darling, heed not my words, but be brave and a lover of your land. Do not hearken to the words of a woman whom love has blinded, whom separation has robbed of seeing. . . . If love brings you not back to me in this life, then love will join me with you in the life to come.”
The sea maidens put back the letter beneath the youth's garments and swam away in silent grief. And when they were gone a distance, one of them said: “In truth man's heart is harder than Neptune's.”
Said the first one: “This is a human who came down yesterday when the sea was angry.”
And a second one said: “Nay, the sea was not angry. But this man – such are called those descended from the gods – was in a war in which much blood was shed until the water became the color of red. This human is a victim of that war.”
Said a third: “I know not what war means, but I know that man was not satisfied with his conquest of the dry land but coveted the lordship of the oceans and invented strange machines to cleave the waters. Then Neptune, god of the seas, came to know, and he was angry because of this enmity. And man was made to appease our sovereign with sacrifices and offerings. That which we beheld yesterday descending was man's latest offering to mighty Neptune.”
A fourth one said: “How great is Neptune, but how hard is his heart! If I were mistress of the seas I would not be pleased with bloody sacrifices. Come, let us look on this dead youth; mayhap we learn something of humankind.”
Then the daughters of the sea drew near to the body and searched in the pockets of his garment. In the garment nearest his heart was a letter, which one of them took and read: “My darling. Midnight has struck and I keep vigil sleepless, with no one to console me save my tears and no body to comfort me but my hope in your return to me from the terrors of war. Well do I recall what you did tell me when we parted, that with every man are tears as a trust that must be returned one day.
“I know not, my love, what I write; rather shall I let my soul flow onto the paper. A soul tormented by misery and consoled by love, which makes suffering a delight and grief a joy.
“When love made one our two hearts and we awaited the union of two bodies within which was one spirit, war called you and you followed it, impelled by duty to your country. Yet what thing is this duty that separates lovers and makes of women widows and of children orphans? What thing is this patriotism which for little causes calls to war to lay in ruins upon the land? What is this duty that fastens itself upon the wretched villages, but is heeded not by the strong and privileged?
“If duty exiles peace from among nations, and patriotism makes havoc of man's tranquility, then away with duty and patriotism! . . . No, my darling, heed not my words, but be brave and a lover of your land. Do not hearken to the words of a woman whom love has blinded, whom separation has robbed of seeing. . . . If love brings you not back to me in this life, then love will join me with you in the life to come.”
The sea maidens put back the letter beneath the youth's garments and swam away in silent grief. And when they were gone a distance, one of them said: “In truth man's heart is harder than Neptune's.”
