I have spent my life dreaming of your face. Now, I have found it. - Rumi

A Thirsty Fish

I don't get tired of you. Don't grow weary
of being compassionate toward me!

All this thirst equipment
must surely be tired of me,
the waterjar, the water carrier.

I have a thirsty fish in me
that can never find enough
of what it's thirsty for!

Show me the way to the ocean!
Break these half-measures,
these small containers.

All this fantasy
and grief.

Let my house be drowned in the wave
that rose last night in the courtyard
hidden in the center of my chest.

Joseph fell like the moon into my well.
The harvest I expected was washed away.
But no matter.

A fire has risen above my tombstone hat.
I don't want learning, or dignity,
or respectability.

I want this music and this dawn
and the warmth of your cheek against mine.

The grief-armies assemble,
but I'm not going with them.

This is how it always is
when I finish a poem.

A great silence comes over me,
and I wonder why I ever thought
to use language.

لقد صارت الأيام تسعى فى أحزاننا بغير وقت، وأاصبحت قرينة للأحزان والمحن.
فإن مضت الأيام فقل لها اذهبى ولا خوف، ولتبق أنت يا من لا مثيل لك فى الطهر.

Why struggle to open a door between us when the whole wall is an illusion?