Agha Shahid Ali (4 February 1949 – 8 December 2001 / New Delhi / India)
The moon did not become the sun.
It just fell on the desert
in great sheets, reams
of silver handmade by you.
The night is your cottage industry now,
the day is your brisk emporium.
The world is full of paper.
Write to me.
(The Half-Inch Himalayas, 1987)
Comments about this poem (Stationery by Agha Shahid Ali )
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