The sea will always offer up more fish, for fish are lesser than the sea.
You shall see the sea is the soul of a fish, for the sea is the fish of God’s own ocean.
The sea is like a nursemaid. And fish are like its feeding children. The woeful child is always looking for its milk.
The sea appears to be indifferent but its compassion for all fish is an infinite grace.
A fish that knows the sea is always caring no longer moves with pride but is ascending through the air.
For that singular fish, the sea is now its counsellor and no task is done without its consultation.
One could say this favored fish is like an emperor and the sea its prime minister.
If anyone were to call this fish a fish, every drop in the wrathful sea would be an arrow.
How long shall you speak in riddles? Paradox bewilders the mind. Now speak clearly so the heart may hear.
The venerable Shams is both my Lord and Master. By his grace, the land of Tabriz is perfume and ambergris.
If this world of thorns were to know his grace, all people would be soft and delicate like silk.
May I never have my soul again. For after tasting his wine and being drunk on his beauty, I am one in self-awareness.
~transcreated from an Arberry translation (A-108) of a Rumi ghazal (F-853)
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