CEDARS
Our houses are well built on rocks, and our
Own families, protected cedars thus;
You simply cannot with a word destroy
These in a million tales the likes of us.
**
THE MELODIES OF MY LIFE
Don’t say to me you are annoyed with me.
It’s hard for me my melody to be
Of life, with sirens singing their sweet songs
All stolen from my book of poetry.
**
Our houses are well built on rocks, and our
Own families, protected cedars thus;
You simply cannot with a word destroy
These in a million tales the likes of us.
**
THE MELODIES OF MY LIFE
Don’t say to me you are annoyed with me.
It’s hard for me my melody to be
Of life, with sirens singing their sweet songs
All stolen from my book of poetry.
**
PARADISE
I spoke to you against my will, and I
Was then confused by what I said to you;
I thought a fire had flared up close by,
But paradise, not fire, near, it’s true.
**
THE CEMETRY OF MEN
History alone the cemetery
Of men, and very fortunate is he
Interred therein, and pages telling tales
Of heroes, hardly turned by destiny.
**
WHAT IS THE MATTER?
What is the matter, tell me what you want?
Just say now what produces great sighs;
You want the moon; I’ll plant it by your side,
And water it with tears from shy eyes.
**
IF ONLY I COULD
If I could only have some wings to fly
Up in the sky and land, just for a while,
On my own terrace, visit my vineyard
Which I had planted, I could hardly sigh.
**
FEAST DAY
I am disgusted with you, feast day, and
Disgusted with your look, in each new dress,
Because the child is naked in our land
And greeting feast days always with distress.
**
A MATTRESS OF FLOWERS
I waited for you at the corner of
Your home long nights, and just when minutes creep
This life, to paint you, hang it in my mind,
And close my eyes, and on the flowers sleep.
**
BAALBECK
Baalbeck, once worshipped by gods, and where
The sun kneels in its universal fear,
The very city wails. What is its woe?
I hear the children’s moaning, even here.
**
CHILDREN
Children, so homeless in the universe,
Talk of oppression by their parents, who
Were born oblivious of purpose here-
Though planted in the womb, life lacked a clue.
**
I spoke to you against my will, and I
Was then confused by what I said to you;
I thought a fire had flared up close by,
But paradise, not fire, near, it’s true.
**
THE CEMETRY OF MEN
History alone the cemetery
Of men, and very fortunate is he
Interred therein, and pages telling tales
Of heroes, hardly turned by destiny.
**
WHAT IS THE MATTER?
What is the matter, tell me what you want?
Just say now what produces great sighs;
You want the moon; I’ll plant it by your side,
And water it with tears from shy eyes.
**
IF ONLY I COULD
If I could only have some wings to fly
Up in the sky and land, just for a while,
On my own terrace, visit my vineyard
Which I had planted, I could hardly sigh.
**
FEAST DAY
I am disgusted with you, feast day, and
Disgusted with your look, in each new dress,
Because the child is naked in our land
And greeting feast days always with distress.
**
A MATTRESS OF FLOWERS
I waited for you at the corner of
Your home long nights, and just when minutes creep
This life, to paint you, hang it in my mind,
And close my eyes, and on the flowers sleep.
**
BAALBECK
Baalbeck, once worshipped by gods, and where
The sun kneels in its universal fear,
The very city wails. What is its woe?
I hear the children’s moaning, even here.
**
CHILDREN
Children, so homeless in the universe,
Talk of oppression by their parents, who
Were born oblivious of purpose here-
Though planted in the womb, life lacked a clue.
**
