In the valley of Lebanon, where the sweet cedars grow, There came a maiden with hair like night’s raven glow. Curls, waltzing freely, a symphony of a sable hue, Mirror the vigor of this land, timeless, old and new.
Her eyes, oh those eyes, akin to morning’s dew, They harbor the secret tints of hazel; golden, green and blue. Captivating in their depth, an enchanted oasis of light, That makes the distant stars quiver with envy in the night.
Every glance she bestows, is a silent song unsung, In her gaze, I am humbled, and to this moment, I am clung. Time becomes a frivolous jester, its presence we disregard, For when she gazes upon me, I find eternity in her regard.
She, like a whispering zephyr, stirs the tranquil sea within, Her mere existence an orchestra, a symphony under my skin. She breathes into my silence, a melody so divine, A rhythm once forgotten, now echoes through this heart of mine.
Her laughter weaves tales of joy, piercing the quietude, Her grace, like the petals of jasmine, fills the air with certitude. In her essence, I find solace, in her spirit, I find my home, For she is the muse of my being, through her, my spirit roams.
She is the dawn’s first light upon the heights of Mount Lebanon, She is the echo in the valley, when the day’s clamor is gone. She is the fragrance of the olive groves, the song of the passing breeze, She is the pulse of the homeland, in her, my essence finds its ease.
So here, in the stillness, beneath the cedar’s shade, I marvel at this wonder, by the hand of the Creator made. She, the Lebanese girl, a living, breathing verse, Her presence, a timeless song, in the universe’s vast discourse.
