They say: The hero is asleep,
But his eyes are half-closed,
His banner is ever-fluttering,
And I wear his name on my lips.
O Bakos Baini, my dear uncle,
You are always in my eyes,
I will plant a garden for you,
A weeping willow at the entrance.
Courage, was your middle name,
A lesson that we learned, by heart,
When you told your mother:
“Have no fear, I am here”.
You were only fifty nine,
When you said your farewell,
Your kind parents Tansy and Chris,
Have bitterly wept your departure.
Heroes like you, my dear uncle,
Shed their blood for our cedars,
Your name is our daily song,
And your memory is vivid in our hearts.
I missed that distinctive spot,
Which made your cheek unique.
You were like a father to me,
I will never forget your warmth.
By Charbel Baini
Translated by Elie Shaanin