When My Sorrow Was Born | Khalil Gibran

Here's a wonderful parable by the great Kahlil Gibran, from The Madman (His Parables and Poems).
Gibran Khalil Gibran (January 6, 1883 – April 10, 1931), usually referred to in English as Kahlil Gibran, was a Lebanese-American writer, poet, and visual artist in the Sufi / Christian mystic tradition.

Photo by Alexander Mass

Transcript

When my sorrow was born,

I nursed it with care and watched over it with loving tenderness.

And my sorrow grew like all living things,

Strong and beautiful and full of wondrous delights.

And we loved one another,

My sorrow and I,

And we loved the world about us.

For sorrow had a kindly heart,

And mine was kindly with sorrow.

And when we conversed,

My sorrow and I,

Our days were winged and our nights were girdled with dreams.

For sorrow had an eloquent tongue,

And mine was eloquent with sorrow.

And when we sang together,

My sorrow and I,

Our neighbors sat at their windows and listened.

For our songs were deep as the sea,

And our melodies were full of strange memories.

And when we walked together,

My sorrow and I,

People gazed at us with gentle eyes and whispered in words of exceeding sweetness.

And there were those who looked with envy upon us,

For sorrow was a noble thing,

And I was proud with sorrow.

But my sorrow died like all living things,

And alone I am left to muse and ponder.

And now when I speak,

My words fall heavily upon my ears.

And when I sing my songs,

My neighbors come not to listen.

And when I walk the streets,

No one looks at me.

Only in my sleep I hear voices saying in pity,

There lies the man whose sorrow is dead.