By Charbel Baini
Translated by Mirna Nehme
An orphaned aged no more than seven years old, they forced her to sell sweets day and night and after fatigue and insomnia exhausted her she plunged in a deep sleep on her sweet platter in the street.
Oh my sweetheart magic in your eyes
And the sweet platter is not pretty without you
Your shoe in the leaders’ moustaches
My little one how does the universe sleep?
And the lord of heaven is quiet about the criminality
So this way you close your eyes
Where is your bed?
Where is a mattress coloured
With your eyes colour
Which from our dirt is blackened?
The footpath became your bed
In front of people
They take pictures of you
They write news about you
But their wooden hands
Did not extend
To rescue you from destiny
Where are you to hug you?
To fulfil you of your mother's compassion
To be your father...
To spoil you
To say to you:
Inside my heart I lay your place
Sleep my soul and fly away your worry
The world monsters are lusting for your blood