The desire of the drop is to return to the ocean:
When separation is perfect, journey loses its motion.
Although I have always been, I remain in ignorance
As to who and what I am in this mad cosmic dance.
You have stooped down to heal the roots of the rose’s pain,
To bathe the lepers, feed the poor and comfort the insane.
I remember in spring the paddocks were full of wild flowers.
Today the streets are full of faces. The first singing hours
If you are not rushing about madly trying to earn love’s grace – what harm is it?
Why should you get your neck broken in the Beloved’s embrace?
As long as I can remember I have been more of a stranger
In this world of short friendship than he who was born in a manger.
I have come to value separation more than presence:
Presence is a veil; in the heart of separation is essence.
My journey to you had been through thousands of trials requiring thousands of courages;
And you asked me, when I arrived, did I know about the rising price of cabbages.
What an eternal Beloved you are!
After much-handwringing on my part, you blessed
The work of my hands – only to make me see that success
is a paste jewel on a hag’s breast.