On this Land

Written by: jamal Abboud

On this land, men transmute into rigid stones
Behold! How numerous are they in my country
On hills, plains and valleys, signs on paths of history
Stones that loved, suffered and muted 
And were coloured  and suppressed with embroidery 
Of red, brown  and yellow pieces of ivory bones
And became fronts and castles of the genius melancholy ,
Vast gates and wide windows look upon prosperous plains
Greeting the redolent of flowers  every morning  
Flowers which were pretty women, each with a love story
Which is rejuvenated each generous spring
To guard love, and adorn men's tales of bravery
How sweet to sit among them and listen to the whispering 
Between the stones and flowers in the valley 
Don't wonder, love is so common among those remains
In my little innocent country
And all speak of pure love and glory.