Cette pauvre petite ma pareille

 L’image de moi-même.

                         Hier j’ai rencontré

                         Un passé désemparé

                        Au présent pareil. 

Hier j’ai rencontré

Quinze ans plus tard, sur le seuil

Les pas d’antan parlent.

Is what nasty people

Are nasty about. 

People believe in whatever god,

Whatever god is what people

In whatever way believe.

I could see

My head in the clouds

Green long trees far below

And the smocking roof

Where together we were.

 But,Wild winds came down

Froze our blue sky

Terrorized our mild season.

How slight the chance

How slighting those days

How paralyzing surviving

Between the Tsahal fury

The Syrian jelly

And the Palestinian mockery.

I look back

For the last time as the moon

Brights behind that village.

Deir el Qamar: All our dreams were altered

Words I uttered long ago

Honesty today became untrue.

There was nothing to explain

All our prayers sounded wrong

There is nothing to forgive.

Keep in mind, remember

As bells and cannons boom

Dear son that the war was      

 Never more than a sacrificial stage.

As though Hell attacked Heaven consciously.

There on dark bright nights

While worlds of misery sleep,

Lost Peace in abstract speculation falls,

 And exiled Hope in conspicuous woodsheds burns. 

War had a natural ugly face

Heroes with broken necks

In an absurdly curtsey showed their bravery.

I just did a dumfounded nonsense?

The silence roared displeasure.

 Had I believed in Grace? 

All dreams die here:

Wishes and hopes can’t bear.

Here adolescence into seven sins

And desolation break begins.

And feels her centre now

Of volition shifted down;

 With the time in tempest everywhere. 

No adolescence

As long as the magic war

 Charm is still here.

In the prison of these days

The guts of living.

                                       Nor change their life.

 Some lost a friend, a father, a world,

                                       They never understood.

 Some saw too clearly all

                                     That mad men can do.

 Some are the echoes of a last

                                     Fucking lost condition.

 Some envied streams and

                                     Breathed their air.

Some disappeared in the dead of freedom.

                 Some found Unity a disfigured subject                                      Only bombs discuss.

On whom the conflicts could model any prettier

 Fake, as chance fell, a dove or a monk-soldier. 

Who by secularity was perceptibly shaken

Who looked for unity but always was mistaken

 Encouraged his forces and chose a new behaviour. 

He wondered why the idea had been forbidden

Did not understand when the kataëbs were chidden

 He taught the European new formalities they did not listen. 

They immediately quarrelled for freedom

Opinions are divided on communities’ authority

 And Palestinians conspired to shoot out at random. 

Once, in a school bus they sparked a confessional conflict

Sprayed bullets into Christian suburbs spilt

Beat up innocents, launches ambushes and strikes

 Often called Moslems up to take arms. 

Dangers, murders, muggings grew greater

And the ways back to peace raped for ever

 Lebanese between Israel and Palestine caught in the line of fire. 

Teenagers at his command left their mothers’ recommendation

Looking for neighbours liberation, a no win situation

Screw their hope to murders and attacks.

Standing with Kalashnikov or rocket launchers

They mocked at those who did not woo their cause

 Despatched lawless militiamen to gag any hour. 

 Till the European believe that was a civil war

Christians, Moslems once grew in likeness

 And now beckon to claim lives more.  

Now, it’s high time that everyone understands

Lebanon is not a state for Palestinians hands.

 Lebanese had the right to defend their fatherland.

Down in the valley drumming

Only the soldiers passing.

O what is that light flashing us here

Over the valley clearly?

Only the occupying forces weapons, surely.

O what are they doing with that gear?

What are they all the time doing?

Only their usual manoeuvres, can’t hear.

O why have they left their check-point there?

Why are they furtively wheeling?

Only a usual waring, near.

O why are they running over there

It must be a warfare faint, so cuming?

No, it is just a distressing nightmare.

O why are they leaving, at us swearing?

Because of our splintered doors,

Disfigured memory, so smiling?

 No, it is just a faked release, a minor frog in our throat.

That country is fatal for your bones

You may hear the wind bombing your ears

And the bullets poisoning grass and graves.

“O do you understand” said fearer to farer

That past will come off on your bloody life

Your guardian angel will vanish in the crowd

Your footprints will discover a sluggish beggar.

“O what was that voice?” said horror to hearer,

Did you hear that sound coming from the desert?

Behind Syria, a storm in a tea cup?

Ashamed the wind echoes never mind.

Walking down Achrafieh

I heard a voice sing

“Lebanon has no ending” 

“I’ll love you, Dear, for ever,

Till the north and the south meet,

And El Awali jumps over the mount

And set the cat among the pigeons.”

 “I’ll love you till the statue of Jesus Christ

Shake hands with the Statue of Liberty

And the masses ’castle drink at Jezzine waterfalls

And Chatila forget her wrends and tragedy. 

But all the lights of my body

Began to whirr and chime

“Shame on you Lebanese

You cannot conquer secularity.”

 In wars, conflicts and worries

Vaguely, hope leaks away.

Plunge your face in the mirror

And wonder what you’re missed 

The bombs knock at the door,

Treason sleeps in your bed,

Death in your arak macerates

Exodus on your forehead is fated. 

That’s not my pigeon!

A lane to the land of Hebrews?

A path to the desert of Philistins?

A wall to the peace of Lebanon? 

O’ look, look in the mirror

From the snow of Sannine Mountain

Cedars remain a blessing

And your rebirth, a wish you can’t grant. 

You should love each other

You should love your neighbours

In the deep water the Master has gone

And his fine words on the world ran on. 

I’ll love you dear, for ever!