and there the intellect drowns.
This is not the Oxus River
or some little creek
this is the shoreless sea;
here swimming ends
always in drowning.
A journey to the sea
is horses and fodder and contrivance
but at land's end
the footsteps vanish.
You lift up your robe
so as not to wet the hem;
come! drown in the sea
a thousand times.
The moon passes over
the ocean of non-being.
Droplets of spray tear loose
and fall back on the cresting waves.
A million galaxies
are a little foam
on that shoreless sea.
RUMI - Fragments, Ecstasies
Translation by Daniel Liebert
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