Dawn on the Mountains In this third millennium, in this August that has passed, We have seen

Nice, Pearl of the Midland Sea Oft have I walked along the shore, charmed by the golden

Père Jacques, Martyr of Rouvray God called him from his tender youth, filled with deep emotion, The

Qaa, Village of the Prophet Elijah North-east of a province in a landscape enchanted, Hamlets and townships

Paris, the Wounded No mere city is Paris, not just a metropolis, City of sanctuaries like the

Our Army Disciplined, silent and strong, our Army is there all along, Always ready its blood to

Oracles for the Third Millennium Two thousand years go back in time And then eight hundred more,

Benediction for Lebanon As Peter came along our shore two thousand years ago With apostle’s zeal to

Brother Monk, Lover of the Fields Favored land of welcome, land with open arms, Whose seasons send

Black Clouds of Doom Black smoke that swiftly rises, striped with gray and white, Eruption overpowering, destruction