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<h6>Author</h6>
<h1>Paulo Coelho</h1>
<h6>Brazilian lyricist</h6>
<p id="paragraph">
The wind has many names. In that part of the world, it was
called the sirocco, because it brought moisture from the oceans to
the east. In the distant land the boy came from, they called it the
levanter, because they believed that it brought with it the sands of
the desert, and the screams of the Moorish wars. Perhaps, in the
places beyond the pastures where his sheep lived, men thought that
the wind came from Andalusia. But, actually, the wind came from no
place at all, nor did it go to any place; that’s why it was stronger
than the desert. Someone might one day plant trees in the desert,
and even raise sheep there, but never would they harness the wind.
“You can’t be the wind,” the wind said. “We’re two very different
things.”
“That’s not true,” the boy said. “I learned the alchemist’s secrets
in my travels. I have inside me the winds, the deserts, the oceans,
the stars, and everything created in the universe. We were all made
by the same hand, and we have the same soul. I want to be like you,
able to reach every corner of the world, cross the seas, blow away
the sands that cover my treasure, and carry the voice of the woman
I love.”
“I heard what you were talking about the other day with the
alchemist,” the wind said. “He said that everything has its own
Personal Legend. But people can’t turn themselves into the wind.”
“Just teach me to be the wind for a few moments,” the boy said.
“So you and I can talk about the limitless possibilities of people and
the winds.”
The wind’s curiosity was aroused, something that had never
happened before. It wanted to talk about those things, but it didn’t
know how to turn a man into the wind. And look how many things
the wind already knew how to do! It created deserts, sank ships,
felled entire forests, and blew through cities filled with music and
strange noises. It felt that it had no limits, yet here was a boy saying
that there were other things the wind should be able to do.
“This is what we call love,” the boy said, seeing that the wind
was close to granting what he requested. “When you are loved, you
can do anything in creation. When you are loved, there’s no need at
all to understand what’s happening, because everything happens
within you, and even men can turn themselves into the wind. As
long as the wind helps, of course.”
The wind was a proud being, and it was becoming irritated with
what the boy was saying. It commenced to blow harder, raising the
desert sands. But finally it had to recognize that, even making its
may around the world, it didn’t know how to turn a man into the
wind. And it knew nothing about love.
“In my travels around the world, I’ve often seen people speaking
of love and looking toward the heavens,” the wind said, furious at
having to acknowledge its own limitations. “Maybe it’s better to ask
heaven.”
“Well then, help me do that,” the boy said. “Fill this place with a
sandstorm so strong that it blots out the sun. Then I can look to
heaven without blinding myself.”
So the wind blew with all its strength, and the sky was filled with
sand. The sun was turned into a golden disk.
At the camp, it was difficult to see anything. The men of the
desert were already familiar with that wind. They called it the
simum, and it was worse than a storm at sea. Their horses cried out,
and all their weapons were filled with sand.
On the heights, one of the commanders turned to the chief and
said, “Maybe we had better end this!”
They could barely see the boy. Their faces were covered with the
blue cloths, and their eyes showed fear.
“Let’s stop this,” another commander said.
“I want to see the greatness of Allah,” the chief said, with respect.
“I want to see how a man turns himself into the wind.”
But he made a mental note of the names of the two men who had
expressed their fear. As soon as the wind stopped, he was going to
remove them from their commands, because true men of the desert
are not afraid.
“The wind told me that you know about love,” the boy said to the
sun. “If you know about love, you must also know about the Soul of
the World, because it’s made of love.”
“From where I am,” the sun said, “I can see the Soul of the World.
It communicates with my soul, and together we cause the plants to
grow and the sheep to seek out shade. From where I am—and I’m a
long way from the earth—I learned how to love. I know that if I
came even a little bit closer to the earth, everything there would die,
and the Soul of the World would no longer exist. So we contemplate
each other, and we want each other, and I give it life and warmth,
and it gives me my reason for living.”
“So you know about love,” the boy said.
</p>
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<h5 class="pageNumber">Page 56</h5>
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