Festival in Support of the Families of Lebanese Army Martyrs 9/19/2014
-1-
I saw you in my dream, carrying my likeness
Kneeling in prayer... your eyes on me
And in a despairing, extinguished,
And hoarse voice
I asked you: What do you want...
Tell me, Father?
You whispered to me:
Why is the homeland wounded
And its ancient cedars bowed down?
Why does the hero end up slaughtered?
The army of the nation is a divine blessing
I fear, my son, that the country will be lost
And vanish behind a mirage of dust
Write me a poem that will bring down
The highest edifices
Built on sandy shores
Lebanon is my home... not Noah's Ark
Gathered people... to betray me
Tell them:
I don't want a single mother to mourn
For her children... in a political game
I always see the grave open
Heroes sacrificing their lives for the homeland
To bring back the heavenly smile.
-2-
Stop, my father... Your demand is a volcano
And your son is a stranger
In the darkness of abandonment
And how can I fulfil it...
And life will end... Or ended long ago
I wrote poetry... Poetry was useless
Not a single word could defeat the devil
We have a leadership wrapped in depravity
And we have a people drunk on their love
Living their years in tears and oppression
And despite the torment...
He's happy living without a president...
And the palace is in ruins
And the parliament is corrupt and broken
And our soldiers are being slaughtered
And not a single eyelid flinched
The blood of heroes has become worthless
And heads are being sold in shops
They suffocated a nation that wanted
To keep up with the times
No electricity, no water for the thirsty
And sectarianism is eating them up
They forgot the meaning of religion and faith
The house of worship
Is distributing blasphemy
And killing man with man
And we, my father, here we became the pride
And the universes learned in our ranks
We ruled the world...
They showered us with flowers
And in our land, the neighbours are fighting
I'll say it from the rooftop... Let it roar
Lebanon needs men, not eunuchs
The thickest moustache has no hair left
I wish... for once...
A woman would rule you.
I couldn't declare victory over the leadership
Living alone... in my exile, despairing
Like you and me... our people are in exile
And those who remain...
Oppressed or destitute
In "Rockwood," my father,
There's a grave for me next to you
I wished it was in the homeland
My grave... O Mejdlaya, be patient
Sydney is my life...
And the paradise of countries
I won't betray it... nor stab it in the back
Blood flows cheaply for it
Two lines of poetry I engraved in my heart:
If we don't have an army to protect the land
And behind it the people...
Lengthwise or width wise
I will keep crying for the homeland, Lebanon
**
