By Charbel Baini
Translated by Mirna Nehme

Convoys men departed, hurried walking 
They left the cedar's home in agony
They planted the seasons, seasons of plenty
And set up their tents in another country
The dew got upset
The bird's voice became husky
And the poplar branches leaned withered
And who migrated 
Hard for him to return
Escaping from deportation 
Of the power of the Canon
From a politic of puzzles
From a wider tyranny
From a huge sea's mouth, 
Children it is swallowing
Kids thrown like flowers 
On the edge of ditches, tyranny dug
And their eyes lit at night 
On a shining dawn
On the remains of a dream
They died out and became a thousand story
About a land longing for the taste of peace
And who lives treason 
No shame for him to leave
And steps in the middle of the sea 
Enduring desertion
Who tasted abandonment 
It is tough for him to hope for rightness
And dream in a mattress of flowers 
On a velvet rug
But if we remember the days 
Before the war broke 
How we raced with dreams
How arrogant we were 
Towards the kings of the universe
We would say: our joy is when we sleep 
Under the shade of our green cedar
And we fold yesterday's book
And we build our happiness
A wedding is not a wedding 
Without our drunkenness
We who gave the sun 
From our joy's light 
We refuse despair 
To play with our lives

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