Between the Lines
Between the lines,
there, where shells explode
stifle birdsongs,
deadly frozen in air raids.
Stones are weeping
lost tears
in the dust.
The land dies lonely.
The colours of death
are pale and hopeless,
like bursting rocks,
not painted, not dreamt,
and lost in time.
Where are the eyes
to look into the future?
Lost thoughts,
carried away by a chilling wind of fear,
scattered in the branches of cedars
of Lebanon,
frozen in lonely
elegies.
Solitude of death,
extinguished life
by firing,
crushed by the tracks of tanks,
wiped out in eternal sands,
between glistening limestone and cedars,
the hope for better days.
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