The ocean way is a trackless path with no shore,
an infinite horizon where the mind is insecure.
All the desperate search for stable identity
vomits with longing for permanent solidity.
Such immensity of rolling water and salty air
gives rise to rich and redolent green despair.
There is no remedy but to die. Long to die
to every thought, desire and nauseating lie!
Love is all dying to precious posturing before
the pitiless sky, and the ocean’s angry roar.
Our only Friend is to trust in our oblivion;
by grace, the mind will drown in pure elation.
Darvish retches with style as proved by his verse:
no one else writes ghazals so dark- and humorous!
