Calm Day

No dead on the streets today is a calm day, traffic is normal, there's ample room for the procession of yesterday's dead, room to add a dream, an idea, a little boy, an extra push for the beloved boat, a nom de guerre for the cell, a rose for a new love, a hand to a comrade Some room to stay alive for some time, enough time to shake your hands and reach the sun Today is a calm day, a pedestrian day in Beirut dancing in the streets, obstructing buses and not buying newspapers: the newspapers already went out to offices and the dead are resting on the Pavement of Martyrs at the outskirts of Sabra A calm day, our neighbor will step out in her nightgown to hang some sleepiness around us, some sluggish waking she's too lethargic to gather letters into words Where is life on this vast sauntering morning? We won't leave Out of the whiteness of her gown a reason will come to carry us down to the streets dead in her "Good morning"