and thus my tears will follow
every barrier and every wall
that holds its wreckage beside this heart
and when my horrors chase me
by every siren by every blow
should my voice rest or should it shout?
where are the handsome souls
left me alone with those people
no where to face no where to start
Ah, Lebanon, Liban
flying your birds away and away
and here shall I stay where you stand
solus, solus, solitas, acerbus
hinc illa lacrimae shall I say
that's why the tears at my hand
despite the hell despite the vain
my eyes I've promised once
that beauty I shall see again and again
when the heart sets go and fly
where the cedars are asleep
there sets the beauty at Liban
Libanus, Libanus, viva fortis
will grow the cedar again
will grow on the sweetest a land
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem