old, then crumble away dead; but your homeland alone knows no ending, for its dreaming selfhood is drawn from feeling, and that prodigious feeling pulses from the immortality of the heart and enters into the everlastingness of that steadfast organ!
If one day you recall your people's step toward glory, do not forget its many steps that stumbled over skulls and bones; and if the hymns of victory and the songs of pride flutter in your mind, then remember the precious powers that flowed out upon the blades of death, and the blood of life that ran in rivers through the plains of nothingness!
Then you will hold sway, firm in safety, in the airs of the great love; and beneath your world will sink little states, earnest and striving, and the limbs of awesome states will be shattered, and broken chivalry will surge, and jealous hearts will weep over the good of a homeland that knows no flourishing except upon the ruin of another homeland!
You are the wife who tomorrow will carry the scepter of motherhood; and then like the goddesses — like the goddesses themselves — you will become: creating, destroying, merciful, awesome... And how magnificent is what the goddesses lavish, when they will to give! You are she who will give intelligence and acumen and knowledge and the strong feeling by which one perceives what life holds of sweetness and bitterness, delight and sorrow!
From your dutiful hand will come forth dear souls, with all that besets them of dim inclinations and sharp desires!
What homeland, then, would not enfold you in its depths; and which of them would not claim you as its own, O majestic one, lost in love?
Today you are a houri whom
the principality of love lifts to its radiance; you are a magical citizen for whom history keeps a line of ancestors — of those who filled life with rapture, since they loved with that tender, violent power of attraction which bound the wounds of their hearts and consoled the pains of their spirits: one of them flung away a kingdom, and others left homeland and kin! So that commoners and subjects, kings and nobles came to stand on one and the same ancient ground, the cradle of mutual sympathy!
In what kingdom could these be equals? In what homeland do Samson and Jamil and Qays and the "Duke of Windsor" stand alike? And where does the daughter of al-Mahdi meet Beatrice and Isolde and George Sand? Where is the playfulness of resolve, the laughter of choice, and the ringing laugh of the will, save in your world? And where do the secrets of paradise dwell, and the hymns of glances, and the anthems of the soul, save in your world!
O favored bride!
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