To merit each of your streets to become more soaked in blood and offal than all your butcher shops in your time of plenty?

Did your sons and daughters live not in peace, each respecting the views of his brother? Did they not welcome all in peace and brotherhood?

Why was this curse brought upon you for offering succor to the fleeing, and shelter to the homeless, from the south?

That the accursed would now in their ill-gratitude rape and abuse you,

Making of your once proud marble walls mounds of rubble, and of your cosmopolitan streets a desolation?

The heart falters! When will the accursed prophet and his demons ever leave you?

Until when will his followers repay your hospitality with blood and strife?

The curse of the Almighty is upon them! They fling back in the face of God the precious gift of life that to His clay He's given!

In their bloodlust they will even shed their own blood with eagerness, if in so doing they also shed the blood of the innocent!

The blood of the innocent but a sacrifice to the demonic Jinns of their false prophet!

Like jackals they live amongst ruins and desolation!

They have turned your once whitewashed cities into the lairs of their abominations,

But a land of gnashing teeth and weeping, oh once beautiful Lebanon, my Lebanon!

Your daughters mourn your laughter, now gone from your shops and alleys,

Your children no longer play in joy along the remnants of the causeway of Alexander,

Your elders sigh and remember amidst all the destruction and the hails of bullets...

Oh Lebanon, my Lebanon, when will you shirk the violent yoke of the accursed prophet?

When will you cast the guests that oppress you out into the very sea?

They have turned your shores red with the blood of your sons and daughters.

When will you wash yourself clean of all their blood sacrifices?

Oh Lebanon, my Lebanon, that your sons and daughters may rise in courage,

And waving proud the flag of the Cedar, cleanse you of the pestilence of the false prophet and his minions, oh daughter of Sidon and Tyre,

That once again your hills may flower, and your orange trees blossom in the sunlight,

Your children laugh, and your maidens dance, your old men dream, and peace once again dwell amongst your cedars, in your bosom. Oh Lebanon, my Lebanon!

(Anonymous)

What powerfully poignant words! The yoke and the affront of the Palestinian refugee vermin, and Nasrallah and his Syrian supported Hezbollah terrorists, may presently sway now amongst the cedars. But the day will come when, as the poet puts it, the "sons and daughters of Sidon and Tyre" will rise in courage, and "waving proud the flag of the Cedar," cleanse the pestilence of the false prophet and his murderously suicidal minions from their midst; that once again the hills of Lebanon may flower, its orange trees blossom in the sunlight, its children laugh, its maidens dance, its old men dream, and peace once more dwell amongst the cedars!