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”.