“You cannot buy me with dimes”
“You cannot buy me with lies”
And my heart, was into crumbs smashed
Into pieces, breathed by the wind
That merged and grew
To make: me
A soul, but also a beating heart
Therefore, sold at no cost.
But as I aged,
I no longer wanted of me,
The slave, bought by a golden penny
Stepped on by feet, covered in dust
Screaming out for peace and liberty,
And so I offered my cold soul a blanket
And gave my lost life a glass
And as I dressed the table and served the banquet,
I poured some wine and got drunk.
One last time.
One last time,
As I gave Beirut’s smoking skies a breath
And some stones to rebuild its walls
Packed with some life as I leave,
And promises, filled with love.
Beirut was the one whom I referred to
During the cries, and hardships of life
But also during the sunny, radiant days
Where my soul blasted with happiness,
No other would come to compare
To the capital’s blue, neat, and clear skies.
I’ve always seen myself, wandering through its horizons
Looking for letters, encyclopedias, dictionaries,
Paper, ink, and meanings
To understand what being sovereign would mean,
And how leading myself would feel
Just like Beirut, I am
Just like Beirut, I wanted to be
Defined by bets, trades, and sales
As I rely on others to lead me
Beirut’s now taken away from its worth
As I also miss mine dreadfully
Beirut that will someday be
One, independent, free and sovereign city
Smiling as she and I share our dreams.
Our vivid images of silhouettes we longed to be.
On sunny days and stormy nights,
Brought by neither vague words nor worthy dimes,
Only defined, by our very own, authentic boundaries.
She, a mistress of her own land
And me, lord of my own soil,
Drinking to freedom we would be,
Chanting the departure of our governors
As all what it ever brought,
Was nothing but what we need,
Freedom, Freedom, and Sovereignty.
That remains to us, nothing, but a vague dream.