Gebran, Martyr for Lebanon

The twelfth of December! ‘Twas St. Lucia’s Day
And twelfth of the moon, the stars had it this way.
We awaited the moon to be on the wane
And bring to the land some life-giving rain.
False was this spring with its promise of peace,
When souls had a hope that the torment would cease,
When all the orange-trees glowed with bloom
And Nature brought flowers for a feast coming soon.
While they were waiting for heaven to rain
The people were thirsting with minds aflame.
On that spring-like day I had followed a route
To visit some friends in West Beirut.
Then something like thunder we clearly heard,
But this was so usual that nobody stirred.
But half an hour later when hearing the news,
Instead of the babble of political views,
I was chilled by the words that came to my ears.
Tragic the drama with violence renewing our fears,
Blood of a hero, blood of a martyr, that hands of crime
Have poured on the ground yet one more time.
One recalls how Adonis when rent by the boar
Poured out before Ishtar his sacred gore.
The wild boar here came from a brother land
That left among us a troublesome band
Vowed to cruelty, vengeance and hate,
With lust for murder that nothing could sate.
But ‘twas here in Lebanon that freedom was born,
And from here it spread o’er an Orient torn.
A dictator regime knows not this ideal
And by killers and traitors would stamp its seal
To impose foreign creeds on all its neighbours
And spread confusion along its borders.
In this East of our dreams we always hear speeches
On democracy and the slogans it teaches,
On the so-called Jihad and US imperialism,
Words that mean nothing to our old humanism
That’s a torch for our minds and spiritual nature,
For our love and our friendship and manners and culture.
Gebran grew among us like an athlete of Greece,
A hero renowned serving Lebanon’s peace.
His pen and his tongue alike brought him fame
Defending his nation with fire and with flame.
His writing was deep and his thought profound
Acclaimed for its courage by the masses around.
He took from Michael his flaming sword
To give its power to every word.
Michael Archangel led the forces of heaven
Crushed the vile hordes and thrust down the dragon;
Likewise your words were weapons you’d wield,
Clashing their steel on the enemy’s shield.
Those evil foes who wished you dead
Have made you to live in each heart and each head.
To rise up again is our greatness and history,
Rising up from the ashes, always a victory.
Our great little nation takes breath from Gebran,
As it honours his father, the thinker Ghassan.
As a shooting star he has crossed the night,
As an angel faster than time or than light,
An Olympian god, one clad for war,
All frankness and firmness, of our heroes the heir.
Neyla the brave, this Diana, this Flora, who has spoken
In stirring eloquence from a heart once near-broken.
The people of Lebanon have shown by their grief
That duty to country is their firm belief.
Gebran, you were bold when wielding the pen
And clear was your thought when speaking to men.
The blood of our martyrs has watered the earth,
And every new peril to a hero gives birth.
So people of Lebanon of every confession
For love of our freedom forget all dissension;
From this East we cherish let’s send out our call
A message of love and of uplift for all.

Joseph Matar
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Translated from French: K.J.Mortimer