Fiction

“Why didn’t you make me eternal?”
Beauty asked God one day,

who replied: “The world’s fiction
is carved from nothingness.

In changing colors you were born:
true beauty is ephemeral.”

The moon overheard this dialogue,
beamed it to the morning star

who woke the dawn, whispering sky’s secret
to the dewdrop, earth’s guardian.

Dew drenched the rose petals,
and spring left the garden weeping.

Written originally in Urdu
Translated by Rafiq Kathwari

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