De profeet

Toegevoegd door Saskia Beugel op 28-12-2008 om 01:51

En een oude vrouw, Die een kindje aan haar borst drukte, zei: Spreek tot ons over kinderen. En hij zei: Je kinderen zijn je kinderen niet. Zij zijn de zonen en dochters van 's levens hunkering naar Jij mag hun geven van je liefde, maar niet van je gedachten, want zij hebben hun eigen gedachten. Jij mag hun lichamen huisvesten, maar niet hun zielen, want hun zielen toeven in het huis van morgen, dat je niet bezoeken kunt, zelfs niet in je dromen.

Uit "The Prophet" van Kahlil Gibran

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable<

And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable<

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Saskia Beugel

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