Jet d’eau
I see a “jet d’eau”,
In Beirut,
Rising like the cranes,
Like fireworks,
Or rockets,
Or just like their desire,
To reach the heavens,
And yet,
They come tumbling down.
I see the Mont Blanc,
In Mount Lebanon,
Both like Gods,
Hovering above us,
In white robes,
With their cold looks.
I see a sea in the lake,
When the “bise” blows,
Through Geneva.
And a lake in the sea,
In the calm,
Before a Beirut storm.
I see reflections,
Contrasts, everywhere,
Like photos taken apart,
Then put together,
Superimposed, mixing,
Like water, sun,
Sky and light,
Beirut, Geneva,
In one flow,
In the photographic rainbow,
Of a “jet d’eau”.