And a woman spoke, saying, 'Tell us of Pain.'
And he said:
Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
Much of your pain is self-chosen. Nicely written poem, the Prophet is his unique and outstanding creation.
Wow. Left me speechless. A beautifully and powerfully rendered portrait of the gift of pain.
Actually think this is a message for hope, the unseen, that which the potter is still creating. Pain is a metaphor here for sadness and self wrought. IMO.
A philosophical touch in lines upbringing the self confidence for those who are ailing and painful.
A philosophical poem with the touch of reality, Masterstroke...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love this Poem