Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
O Lebanon, land of beauty when beauty takes its form,
A rose upon the breast of an East that never grows old;
I am Egypt, and the Nile within my eyes is a lover’s tale,
While you are the cedar, beneath whose shade history finds its home.
The pyramids are mine, lifting their ancient brows to time,
And Baalbek is yours, its stones glittering beneath the sun;
The Nile runs through the veins of my eternal land,
While the sea embraces Beirut from every balcony and shore.
How could I not love you,
When in both our hearts a civilization lives beyond the reach of age?
—
O Lebanon,
Can you not see that we were shaped from the same earth?
You write your glory upon your mountains,
While I wash the face of the ages in my Nile;
You guard the cedar from the winds of time,
While I guard the Nile from the treachery of years.
You are Phoenician, carrying the secrets of the sea,
And I am Pharaonic, reading my stories in stone;
You gave the sea its earliest voyages,
While I entrusted the sun with my oldest mysteries.
How many civilizations have met within our soil,
How many dreams were born among our stones!
—
I am Cairo…
And you are Beirut.
I am a city carrying a thousand stories through its night,
And you are a city drinking a thousand songs from the window of the sea.
In my cafés, the lovers wrote their poems,
In yours, the free word learned how to breathe;
I am the city of Al-Azhar and its minarets,
And you are the city of churches, monasteries, and prayers.
In both of us, the human soul has found a home,
And in both of us, faith and love embrace.
—
And what a wondrous love is ours!
I sing with Umm Kulthum,
And you whisper to love through Fairuz;
I listen to Abdel Halim in the night,
And you answer him with Wadih El Safi.
I have my Egyptian night,
And you have your Beirut morning;
And when the two voices meet,
No one in the East remains a stranger or far away.
Between Umm Kulthum and Fairuz
There is only a bridge of longing;
And between the Nile and the sea
There is only a kiss that arrives before the appointed hour.
—
I write, and you write;
I tell stories, and you narrate;
I have poetry, and you have poetry;
I have the theatre, and you have the theatre;
I have cinema, and you have its magic.
How many artists have crossed from Egypt to Lebanon,
And how many Lebanese voices have carried their songs to Egypt!
As though art between us
Has never learned the meaning of borders,
And as though every word
Carries a permanent passport between two hearts.
—
You have magic upon the table,
And I have fragrance upon mine.
You bring tabbouleh, hummus, and kibbeh,
While I bring koshari, ful, and mahshi.
When two tables meet,
Hunger has nowhere left to dwell;
And when two traditions of hospitality meet,
The stranger can no longer feel like a stranger.
You are generous like the mountain,
And I am generous like the Nile;
When either of us gives,
Neither asks the price.
—
O Lebanon,
How deeply you resemble me in patience!
The winds have passed over you,
Yet they could not uproot your cedars;
Trials have passed over me,
Yet they could not steal my Nile.
We have grown weary… yes,
But we have never learned how to die.
We are two children of the East
Who know how to rise after falling,
And who preserve for tomorrow
Enough dreams for generations yet unborn.
—
I am Egypt…
And Lebanon lives within my heart.
And you are Lebanon…
And Egypt lives within yours.
The Nile does not ask the sea where the borders lie,
Nor does the sea ask the Nile for a passport to cross;
When waters embrace,
Maps lose their authority,
And when hearts embrace,
Distance loses its meaning.
So come, Lebanon,
Let us write upon the waters of the Nile and the sea:
**Here is Egypt, loving Lebanon;
And here is Lebanon, answering love with love.**
Let history say whatever it wishes,
Let geography draw whatever lines it pleases;
Between two Arab hearts,
No map can ever build a wall.
**O Lebanon,
Cedar rooted in the heart of Egypt,
And another Nile
Flowing within my blood.**
