Go, tender breath, go zephyr, meek and bland,
Upon the surface of the tide, go on
Northwestwards, haply you may spot a land,
A little nation, my sweet Lebanon.
Go, and if you descry my country dear,
My ever-bleeding home, pray make a pause
And give a warm salute, nay, give a tear
Unto Beirut, the Mediterranean rose.
Then look upon the North, my sacred North.
Look rev’rently, there is the blessed demesne
Of saints, yea! There you’ll find the Maker’s hearth,
God’s Sanctum, Ay! The vale of Qannoubine.
Look on my village, friends, my agony
Look on and weep a poor man’s destiny
Adelaide
June 10th 1990
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem