Wash, wash, wash,
Thy sabulous shores, O Sea!
In waves rising and ebbing to die
Like the countless hopes in me.
I have heard what I hear now, around
The shores of eternity,
The echo of a voice in the sound
Of the living age in me.
So deep that voice growing in my ears,
A song of life and regret
Of childhood, the gray hair and the years
I have forgot to forget.
I value the years, the wrinkles deep
On my brow, around my eyes
But O! for the thoughts that come and heap
On my heart, a world of sighs.
I would a day back to live again
A child with children at play
Without envy, without hate or pain
A child, full of cheer and gay.
Wash, wash, wash,
Thy old brownish shores, O Sea!
But the hopes dead and gone will never
Come again to life in me.
You Can and Anyone Can Fill the Cup
You can and anyone can fill the cup
In the spring of life when all can say cheers
But when autumn comes dry will be our cup
And we lay it aside full of our tears
Though the spring is the green garden of hopes
It remains a vision of fancy made
Since we climb the heights and track down the slopes
To live in delay with time in the shade.
Rarely a witty sage might leave a name
Who might leave his breath writ by a feather
To live a lasting memory of fame
As long as sun and moon face one an’ther
Life is but steel and flint brushed together
Twinkling dimming slowly gone forever.
8/2003
A Shelter Of Tears In Memory of My son Bassam
O Time! What a trap of smiles you have made
My spring days were so delightful to taste:
But now I feel the keen edge of your blade
I suffer take me to your bosom in haste.
The tears in the eyes a lake of sorrow
Within a faint shadow talking to me
«Pa dry not the tears hence nor tomorrow;
Keep them in your eyes a shelter for me:
«One tear means a universe of despair
So why weep and count the tears in the lake?
One would be more then sufficient to bear
Be patient, Pa, stop, weeping for my sake;
«Dad take care of Ma, Jawdat and Janine;
Love them as always I’ve loved them before;
Sorry my journey so early had been
To be with dear mother for ever more.”
O Time! should you be so bitter of breath
Having mothered birth and the years of care?
Why without notice your warrants of death
Are mailed to the King of Terrors by air
O Havoc! O the storm of life the rain !
Should the Spring die Winter remain !
Take me O God! to live with him again ;
I suffer take me to live with him again.