Sunday, November 1, 2020





The High Silence


this day which makes the day of today

Turn around, will you, the meteors

The suicide letters we wrote

Poems that praise the occupation of land


Saying hopes are the same age as children

You alone will be the voice on their lips

Hold out your hands, high silence

The invaders challenge

The end of the night is autumn and its early morning


May everyone who loves freedom stretch out their hearts

The cloud hanging on tomorrow passes without coming here

Thousands of nameless heroes

Straw artery of arid lands

All the pebbles fade along with the memories


Those who insist on the song of the poor

Agonizing nights remained in the hands

Could the sun be born from wounds that do not heal

While further on the suffering makes pus flow


Turn turn face

Before the pigeons take flight from their nests

Do not blow out the ashes that the wind could not disperse

Don't sing the song of pain

May the sheets not be stretched to the orphans' rope

That distant footsteps do not kill

Laurent Caroline





I Am In Strates!


My heart would be the slave of the stone of patience

It is filled with sorrows in abundance

The leaf of no tree

No branch pencil is enough

To write down what I've been through


I am in layers, my heart is enthusiastic

Always stronger we sink and we multiply

Enough, stop measuring my patience

There is a volcano in me about to explode

Go now, be with whoever you want

I'm not saying stay to whoever leaves, know it, here's the way


What you don't think is stealing from others

But, to green the stones of his own garden

Don't smell the lily when the rose is near you

Don't look for love with a mule when you have a gazelle

It is recklessness that burns man and not fire

He finds everyone fault, but he looks at himself like a blind man


Don't think spring won't come when you're gone

Don't think my heart can't resist it

My stone of patience hasn't been broken yet

I am level on the ground since I lean on the sole of my foot

I finished everything that I said goes on and on

I erased everything I hate.


Don't ask me neither you nor those I left behind

If it was you you would be beyond madness

I'm sad, hurt, I'm like divided between two continents

On the one hand, a barren land, on the other a huge sea.

I don't suit you anymore, I overtake you

If you are not ready to give your soul to the beloved,

Don't beat your wings, sir, to love


Don't give your body to praise, set your soul apart

Put on the habit of silence, do not defame anyone

Don't spoon every meal that comes to you

Remember that life is all about a thousand trials

When you are oblivious, don't fall into mistakes that you will repent of

Everything that we say will not pass, passes like flowing water.

Laurent Caroline







Hold my hand on my shoulder Beirut!

Tell me about happiness, what happened makes me desperate ...

They break the mortar of pain, hang it on the leg like a sheep ...


Come on, wake up ..,

If you don't get up, no one will lift you up

The ears do not hear anyone's complain

Stand up with all voices

Don't just listen to the whip


See they touch your body

Look they kiss you on the neck

Look, they rape

The valleys of hate are bubbling

Your skin breathes with sorrow

Women wear black


Put on your wing, Beirut, the shadows scare me

Look back, the burning fire is no fun

They dig knives in the cave weave the net

May he not be ruined by the naz


That you don't chase away the withered laurels

Arise, don't be defeated

Stand in front of the sun and be the sun

Otherwise, they make you like a sheep ...

And nobody talks about you

An ancient Beirut in the last pages of history

Laurent Caroline





CAROLINE LAURENT TURUNCC: Laurent comes originally from a Turkish family with Arab heritage living in Antakya, and she is the 9th child of this family. She completed her primary and secondary education in Antakya. She started writing at the age of 15. She had written her first novel around this age. Yet, as a result of an unfortunate event, only one night before here novel was going to be sent for publication, her elder brother and mother tore her novel apart. Although this incident made her sad, it did not prevent her from writing again in the coming years. From 2013 on she wrote 1000 poems in total, and she appeared in three anthologies. She published her two poetry collections entitled "In Between the Orient and Shamal" and “Desert Rose". She lives in Paris.


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