THE COMING OF THE SHIPffice
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Almustafa, the chosen and the beloved, who was
a dawn unto his own day, had waited twelve years in
the city of ffice:smarttags" />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
o:p>
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
give 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 saido:p>
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, sleepless 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 shall I 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
hastenin
g 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 himselfo:p>
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
plough 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 that the hand of the mighty may
touch me, or a flute that his breath may pass through
me?
A seeker of silences am I, and what treasure
have I found in silences that I may dispense with
confidence?
If this is my day of harvest, in what fields have I
sowed the seed, and in what unremembered seasons?
If this indeed be the hour in which I lift up my
lantern, it is not my flame that shall burn therein.
Empty and dark shall I raise my lantern,
And the guardian of the night shall fill it with oil
and he shall light it also.
These things he said in words. But much in his
heart remained unsaid. For he himself could not
speak his deeper secret.
And when he entered into the city all the people
came to meet him, and they were crying out to him as
with one voice.
And the elders of the city stood forth and saido:p>
Go not yet away from us.
A noontide have you been in our twilight, and
your youth has given us dreams to dream.
No stranger are you among us, nor a guest, but
our son and our dearly beloved.
Suffer not yet our eyes to hunger for your face.
And the priests and the priestesses said unto
him: Let not the waves of the sea separate us now,
and the years you have spent in our midst become a
memory.
You have walked among us a spirit, and your
shadw has been a light upon our faces.
Much have we loved you. But speechless was
our love, and with veils has it been veiled.
Yet now it cries aloud unto you, and would stand
revealed before you.
And ever has it been that love knows not its own
depth until the hour of separation.
And others came also entreated him. But he
answered them not, He only bent his head; and those
who stood near saw his tears falling upon his breast.
And he and the people proceeded towards the
great square before the temple.
And there came out of the sanctuary a woman
whose name was Almitra. And she was a seeress.
And he looked upon her with exceeding
tenderness, for it was she who had first sought and
believed in him when he had been but a day in their
city.
And she hailed him, sayingo:p>
Prophet of God, in quest of the uttermost, long
have you searched the distances for your ship.
And now your ship has come, and you must
needs go.
Deep is your longing for the land of your
memories and the dwelling place of your greater
desires; and our love would not bind you nor our
needs hold you.
Yet this we ask ere you leave us, that you speak
to us and give us of your truth.
And we will give it unto our children, and they
unto their children, and it shall not perish.
In your aloneness you have watched with our
days, and in your wakefulness you have listened to
the weeping and the laughter of our sleep.
Now therefore disclose us to ourselves, and tell
us all that has been shown you of that which is
between birth and death.
And he answered,
People of Orphalese, of what can I speak save of
that which is even now moving within your souls?
船来了
被挚爱的特选的子民阿尔姆斯塔法是他时代的曙光
他已在奥菲利斯城中等待了十二年，期待他的船
他载会他出生的岛屿。
在第十二年，“收割月”的第七天，他爬上了没有城墙的山丘，向大海张望，他看见他的船架雾而来。
他的心门豁然大开，他的欢乐飞越海洋。他闭上眼睛，在他灵魂的寂静中祈祷。
但当他下山是，一种悲哀却笼罩了他，他心中想道：
我怎么能平和的离去而不待悲愁呢？
不，我不会灵魂无损地离开这座城市。
我在这城中饱受痛苦时日的煎熬，忍受无数长夜的孤独；然而，谁会毫无撼意地与他的痛苦与孤独告别？
我把我太多的灵魂的碎片洒在了这些街道上，
有太多我梦想的孩子赤足走在这些山冈上，我不能毫无负重和痛苦地离开他们。
今天我扔掉的不是一件罩袍，而是从我自己手上撕下的一块皮肤。
这也不是我留在身后的一种思想，而是由饥渴酿成甘甜的心灵。
但我不能再长久逗留。
那召唤万物归向她的大海正在召唤我，所以我必须起航。
因为如果留下，虽然那时光在夜中燃烧，但却很快冷却凝固封锁在固定的模子里。
我多么愿意将我在这里的一切带走。但我却如何能够？
声音不能带着赋予它翅膀的舌头和嘴唇一起飞翔，它得自己探索追寻苍穹。
苍鹰也得不带巢穴独自飞越太阳。
现在，当他到达山脚时，他再次转身面向海洋，他看见他的船正在接近港口，在船首站立着水手和他故乡的人们。
他的灵魂在向他们呐喊，他说：
我古老母亲的儿子们啊，浪潮的骑士，你们曾多少次驶入我的梦中。
现在你们进入了我更深沉的清醒的梦中。
我已准备好离开，我对航行的渴望已经涨满，只等着海风。
我只要想在这凝滞的空气中再呼一口气，再向身后投去最后深情的一瞥。
然后，我将站在你们中间，水手中的水手啊。
而你，大海，无眠的母亲，河流与小溪平和自由的终点。
我这小溪只需在转个弯，在林间低吟一句，然后我将奔向你，就象一个自由的水滴融入一个无限的海洋。
当他举步是，他看见远处的男人和女人正离开他们的田野和他们的葡萄园，匆忙涌向城门。
他听见他们在呼唤他的名字，田野中传扬着船来了的消息。
他对自己说：
告别的日子该是聚会的日子吗？
应该说我的夜晚实际上是我的黎明？
我能给那些中途停下耕田的农具和酿酒的转轮的人说什么呢？
我的心应该变成结满果实的树，而我将收集果实送给他们吗？
我的欲望应象喷泉流动，注满他们的杯子吗？
我应该是一只竖琴，有力的手会触摸我，或是一只风笛，他的气息会流过我？
我是一个沉默的探索者吗？我在沉默之中找到了什么使我可以信心十足地与他们分享？
如果这是我的丰收之日，我在什么样的被遗忘的季节里播种过？
如果这真是我提起我的灯的时刻，那灯中燃烧的却不是我的火焰。
我将空洞地，黑暗地提起它
然后黑暗的守护者将为它注入油，并将它燃亮。
他把这些讲了出来，但他心中还有很多没有说。因为他自己也不能说出他自己的秘密。
当他进入城市时，所有的人都来见他，他们呼喊着他，就象一个声音。
城中的长者站出来说：
现在不要离开我们。
你是我们星光中的满月，你的青春给了我们无限的梦想。
你不是我们中的陌生人，也不是客人，你是我们的儿子，我们亲密的挚爱。
难道我们要用饥饿的眼睛寻找你的面庞？
男祭司和女祭司都对他说：不要让大海的波涛现在就把我们分开，让你在我们中度过的岁月成为一个记忆。
你的精神与我们同行，你的身影象明灯照亮我们的脸庞。
我们多么爱你。但我们的爱却无言，被重重面纱遮掩。
但现在它就在大声向你呼喊，并将在你的面前显现。
这爱从不知道自己的深浅，直至这离别的时间。
其他人也都求他。但他没有回答他们。他只是低着头；那些靠近他的人看见他的泪水洒在胸前。
他和人们走向神殿前最大的广场。
神殿中走出一位名叫阿尔米特拉的妇人，她是一个预言家。
他用超越温柔的眼光看着她，因为在他来的首日，她第一的追随信仰了他。
她向他致敬，说：
上帝的先知，在追求终极真理的过程中，你已寻找你的船多时，
现在你的船已经来到，你必然要走了。
你如此深切地渴望你记忆中的土地和居所，
我们的爱和需要都不能将你挽留。
但这将是我们在你离开前要问的，请你和我们说话，将你的真理赐予我们。
我们将把它传给我们的孩子，他们也会传给他们的孩子，永世不渝。
你在孤独中观察我们的生活，你在醒时听我们睡梦中的抽泣与欢笑。
那么现在想我们揭示我们自己吧，告诉我们已向你展示的从生到死的一切。
于是他回答道，
奥菲利斯的人们啊，除了那些正在你们灵魂中流动的东西，我还能想你们讲什么呢？
