The life of love 
by Gibran Khalil Gibran 

Spring


Come, my beloved; let us walk amidst the knolls, For the snow is water, and Life is alive from
its Slumber and is roaming the hills and valleys. Let us follow the footprints of Spring into the
Distant fields, and mount the hilltops to draw 
Inspiration high above the cool green plains. 

Dawn of Spring has unfolded her winter-kept garment And placed it on the peach and citrus
trees; and They appear as brides in the ceremonial custom of the Night of Kedre. 

The sprigs of grapevine embrace each other like weethearts, and the brooks burst out in
dance Between the rocks, repeating the song of joy; And the flowers bud suddenly from the
heart of Nature, like foam from the rich heart of the sea. 

Come, my beloved; let us drink the last of Winter's Tears from the cupped lilies, and soothe
our spirits With the shower of notes from the birds, and wander In exhilaration through the
intoxicating breeze. Let us sit by that rock, where violets hide; let us Pursue their exchange of
the sweetness of kisses. 


Summer

Let us go into the fields, my beloved, for the Time of harvest approaches, and the sun's eyes
Are ripening the grain. 
Let us tend the fruit of the earth, as the Spirit nourishes the grains of Joy from the Seeds of
Love, sowed deep in our hearts. 

Let us fill our bins with the products of Nature, as life fills so abundantly the Domain of our
hearts with her endless bounty. Let us make the flowers our bed, and the Sky our blanket, and
rest our heads together Upon pillows of soft hay. 
Let us relax after the day's toil, and listen To the provoking murmur of the brook. 

Autumn

Let us go and gather grapes in the vineyard For the winepress, and keep the wine in old
Vases, as the spirit keeps Knowledge of the Ages in eternal vessels. 

Let us return to our dwelling, for the wind has Caused the yellow leaves to fall and shroud the
Withering flowers that whisper elegy to Summer. Come home, my eternal sweetheart, for the
birds Have made pilgrimage to warmth and lest the chilled Prairies suffering pangs of solitude.
The jasmine And myrtle have no more tears. 

Let us retreat, for the tired brook has Ceased its song; and the bubblesome springs Are drained
of their copious weeping; and Their cautious old hills have stored away Their colourful
garments. 

Come, my beloved; Nature is justly weary And is bidding her enthusiasm farewell With quiet
and contented melody. 


Winter

Come close to me, oh companion of my full life; Come close to me and let not Winter's touch
Enter between us. Sit by me before the hearth, For fire is the only fruit of Winter. 

Speak to me of the glory of your heart, for That is greater than the shrieking elements Beyond
our door. Bind the door and seal the transoms, for the Angry countenance of the heaven
depresses my Spirit, and the face of our snow-laden fields Makes my soul cry. 

Feed the lamp with oil and let it not dim, and Place it by you, so I can read with tears what
Your life with me has written upon your face. Bring Autumn's wine. Let us drink and sing the
Song of rememberance to Spring's carefree sowing, And Summer's watchful tending, and
Autumn's Reward in harvest. 

Come close to me, oh beloved of my soul; the Fire is cooling and fleeing under the ashes.
Embrace me, for I fear loneliness; the lamp is Dim, and the wine which we pressed is closing
Our eyes. Let us look upon each other before They are shut. Find me with your arms and
embrace me; let Slumber then embrace our souls as one. Kiss me, my beloved, for Winter has
stolen All but our moving lips. 

You are close by me, My Forever. How deep and wide will be the ocean of Slumber, And how
recent was the dawn!