Star of poetry is one of Charbel Baini's books translated from Arabic into English. Introduction by Dr. Mostapha Helwe

Marcel Khalife


A tribute to the artist Marcel Khalife at the New South Wales Parliament by Senator Shaoquett Moselmane 2019


Marcel, you are art, and I am poetry

Take from the houses of poetry 

And build our homeland

You are the great, the unique... 

You are the beginning

If you walk, time walks behind you

For the (oud), were it not for your sweet,

Melodious playing

Has become a decoration in the corners of places

Play with abandonment... 

Make the strings dance... 

Who like "Khalifa" can heal our wounds?

All the anthems you sang

Lived within us... 

Until we possessed our dream

If the days are unjust, your art is a refuge

If our voice is lost, it remains our voice

I always yearn for my mother's bread

But the tyrant steals our wheat

No, do not fear, sing, for you The Hopeful One

From the mothers of melody comes our bread

I walk, but my stature is not upright

For the body, after abandonment, 

Is bent by weariness

Were it not for you, 

We would have lost the path to sanctuary

For the path, O "Marcel," 

Has been erased by oblivion

We have abandoned the land like a ship

Look at us, we have filled our sea

Aamchit, O Aamchit, be a note

So that the notes may rejoice since the (Megana)

You gifted us a beloved, pioneering son

Sang so that we may remain... 

So that our cedar may remain

Lebanon... what is Lebanon but paradise

If we throw it with fire... our Lord will be angry

Jerusalem is lost... do not ask about our "Kibla"

No leader has been troubled by our Jerusalem

You sang of it... 

Oh, if only you had hidden it with melody, 

With tunes So that it may remain with us

If only they had weakened my enemy once

So that I might kiss the head of one of our Arabs

But they have covered the horizon with lies

And lies are salt... Ah, our salts!

Rejoice... On Valentine's Day you are honoured

For love with abandonment is one of our customs

This noble, brilliant "Senator"

In the parliament of truth, 

He has become our pride

Shaoquett sacrifices... Who sacrifices like him?

The son of the South, the "Moselmane," is our son

I offer you, "Marcel," a world of fragrance

Enter... How magnificent you would be 

If you stayed here

You came to us to dispel alienation

Thank you... You have now taken up residence 

In our hearts

**