Beirut my beloved
My beloved Beirut, the pulse of greater Lebanon, you have been crushed to pieces but yet you have aroused again and again, your soil have been conquered by different empires, the Romans, Alexander the great, the Arabs and the ottomans, and so it has been till today, but the future have many secrets for the people of Beirut, a divided city with many wounds, who’s still healing from its dark past, a broken soul who needs to rest to recover properly, but never less is the shadow of the devil hiding in the corners of the suburbs of the city, eager to find a gap at anytime to interrupt its harmless sleep. What have become of Beirut? The city I recognize from my childhood, when children from different classes, ethnicities and religion, even then we knew who we were but it never prevented us to play together, because we all had the same color on our shirts. My beloved Beirut, once where different opinions were everyday and intellectuals wanted to stay and develop their city and the whole country, they all had a plan how the city would look and become, how great it could be and how sad it turned out to be.
My beloved Beirut, when will you wake up from your hallucination? And transform into an angry bear and throw everything badly into the ocean to
the bottom of the Mediterranean, so that tomorrow's youth who hold the keys to the future never need to see.
My beloved Beirut, an old city from the time of Phoenicians, our ancestors who created our great city which became a thriving trading city, its holy sister city Byblos (jbail) was its role model and predecessor. How can it be that we have forgot our Phoenician heritage, how has this been possible, that Beirut’s citizen does not openly honor its ancient legacy.
My beloved Beirut, in the heart of Mount Lebanon, the gate to the Far East even called Middle Eastern pearl during her brilliant time, it’s all gone now, but her destiny is a mystery, nobody knows what to expect next, maybe that's why I have a hate and love relationship with this city. I hate it because for its uncertainty, madness, illness, sickness, hopeless, at the same time love it for capturing the moments, the humour, the laughs, the smell from fresh sesame bread, the differences, the traffic jam, the pulsating streets day and night. Beirut is the city where people live on real, who wouldn’t fall in love with this kind of city.
My beloved Beirut, the capitol of Lebanon, where the cedar tree is still growing and home to the great singers like Fairuz and Sabah and poets such Said Aql and Khalil Gibran, our glory days have been thanks to these personalities, through their poetry and songs the Lebanese have cried till they couldn’t cry anymore. Today, they try to bring back the old, read the poetry and listen to the songs once again. My beloved Beirut, you should not cry no more, the youth will take you from the ashes and reclaim the city with their cedar flag
Skriven av: Pierre Hayek
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Inga böcker, inga barn, inte mycket att skryta med kort sagt. Allt gott till er alla som besökt, läst och övertygat mig! :-) Är du mer nyfiken, samt modig, så finns jag gömd någonstans i krokarna,…Anders Berggren