Рэй Брэдбери - The Golden Kite, The Silver Wind

The first Mandarin's daughter stood by his bed.

«See,» she said.

«Those are nothing but kites,» said the two old men.

«But what is a kite on the ground?» she said. «It is nothing. What does it need to sustain it and make it beautiful and truly spiritual?»

«The wind, of course!» said the others.

«And what do the sky and the wind need to make them beautiful?»

«A kite, of course — many kites, to break the monotony, the sameness of the sky. Coloured kites, flying!»

«So,» said the Mandarin's daughter. «You, Kwan-Si, will make a last rebuilding of your town to resemble nothing more nor less than the wind. And we shall build like a golden kite. The wind will beautify the kite and carry it to wondrous heights. And the kite will break the sameness of the wind's existence and give it purpose and meaning. One without the other is nothing. Together, all will be beauty and co-operation and a long and enduring life.»

Whereupon the two mandarins were so overjoyed that they took their first nourishment in days, momentarily were given strength, embraced, and lavished praise upon each other, called the Mandarin's daughter a boy, a man, a stone pillar, a warrior, and a true and unforgettable son. Almost immediately they parted and hurried to their towns, calling out and singing, weakly but happily.

And so, in time, the towns became the Town of the Golden Kite and the Town of the Silver Wind. And harvestings were harvested and business tended again, and the flesh returned, and disease ran off like a frightened jackal. And on every night of the year the inhabitants in the Town of the Kite could hear the good clear wind sustaining them. And those in the Town of the Wind could hear the kite singing, whispering, rising, and beautifying them.

«So be it,» said the Mandarin in front of his silken screen.