To the Creater did Beauty one day complain
"Why made ye one of stuff that doth wane?"
"The world is like a hall of mirrors," answered He
"A tale told to pass the long night of eternity.
Since of changeable hues it was first made
It’s the essence of beauty that it must fade."
The moon overheard, she was not far
It spread in the skies to the Morning Star.
The Star told the Dawn, Dawn to Dew extended
The secret of Heaven thus to the Earth descended
The bud’s little heart burst with grief and bled
Grief filled the garden in loud lament
Youth that had come to sport in sorrow went.
by Allama Iqbal