Poem 2

Like an endless sea, its waves never stop; the many waves are the veil that hides the one. The world and all it holds is the sea's motion, casting up from the deep onto the shore. My heart, which is the shore of his infinite sea, forever needs the waves of that sea. The only cure for my heart's pain is the sea's wave; what a strange ache, whose wave is its own remedy and cure. Whoever a wave carried from the shore into the sea came to know the secret of truth and ascension. Not every bit of straw draws pearls and jewels from this ocean; one gets only straw from it, another a gem and a crown. From this ocean, beside which the whole world is a mirage, mine is sweet fresh water, and yours the bitter salt. If water differs in color and taste, that comes from the difference of place and the shifting of temperament. Whatever Maghrebi gathered from all creation, the surrounding sea plundered in a single moment.