A poet once wrote a love song and it was beautiful. And he made many copies of it, and sent them to his friends and his acquaintances, both men and women, and even to a young woman whom he had met but once, who lived beyond the mountains.
And in a day or two a messenger came from the young woman brining a letter. And in the letter she said, “Let me assure you, I am deeply touched by the love song that you have written to me. Come now, and see my father and my mother, and we shall make arrangements for the betrothal.”
And the poet answered the letter, and he said to her, “My friend, it was but a song of love out of a poet’s heart, sung by every man to every woman.”
And she wrote again to him saying, “Hypocrite and lair in words! From this day unto my coffin-day I shall hate all poets for your sake.”
By Kahlil Gibran