By Charbel Baini
Translated by Mirna Nehme

An orphaned aged no more than seven years old, they forced her to sell sweets day and night and after fatigue and insomnia exhausted her she plunged in a deep sleep on her sweet platter in the street.

Oh my sweetheart magic in your eyes 
And the sweet platter is not pretty without you
Your shoe in the leaders’ moustaches
My little one how does the universe sleep?
And the lord of heaven is quiet about the criminality
So this way you close your eyes
Where is your bed?
Where is a mattress coloured 
With your eyes colour 
Which from our dirt is blackened?
The footpath became your bed 
In front of people 
They take pictures of you
They write news about you 
But their wooden hands 
Did not extend
To rescue you from destiny
Where are you to hug you? 
To fulfil you of your mother's compassion
To be your father...
To spoil you 
To say to you: 
Inside my heart I lay your place
Sleep my soul and fly away your worry 
The world monsters are lusting for your blood

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