Charbel Baini between the classical and the colloquial/ Dr. Mostapha Helwe

 

Introduction

My Story with Al-Baini… and the Path to Him!

   In October 2016, the “Youth Club – Bayader Rash’in” (Zgharta-Zawiya) invited me to participate in a seminar about two poetry collections in Lebanese colloquial Arabic, “Clusters of Poetry” and “A Glass of Wine,” by the expatriate poet Romeo Owais. He had come from Australia for this purpose, and a book signing for these two collections was planned for his hometown (Bayader Rash’in), followed by another signing in Sydney, where he resides permanently. I accepted for two reasons: firstly, the friendly relationship I have with the club's organizers, and secondly, because my introduction to colloquial poetry would familiarize me with a poetic world, I knew little about, and thus I wouldn't be an enemy of what I didn't know!

   This was my first experience with poetry in Lebanese colloquial Arabic, a truly memorable day at the Jisr Rash'in Restaurant (Friday, October 21, 2016), with a large turnout from the local community and from intellectual and poetic circles. My presentation was very well received, which encouraged me to continue exploring the literature of the Arab diaspora in Australia. I later published this presentation in my critical encyclopedia: "80 Books in One Book: Reviews of Contemporary Arab Intellectual Movements – Part Two."

   Two years passed, and then the poet Romeo Owais called me from Sydney (winter 2018), asking me—I had become someone he trusted—to write a foreword for his new collection of poems, "Where is the Sin?", which was to be published in Lebanon. He planned to hold a book signing in his hometown (Bayader Rash'in) as soon as it was printed. I agreed, and Romeo became a regular reader, even during times of economic downturn, as my market never experiences a downturn!

   These three collections, after I realized the importance of poetry in colloquial Arabic, motivated me to further my understanding of diaspora literature in general, and specifically the literature produced by Arab writers, particularly Lebanese, in the Australian diaspora.

   Thus, I found what I was looking for in a polymath whose literary clock never stops ticking. I mean the writer Charbel Baini, whose fame spread throughout the diaspora and even beyond the continent of Oceania! He has more than fifty poetry collections to his credit, in both Lebanese colloquial Arabic and classical Arabic, in addition to fourteen plays, and a series of Arabic language textbooks adopted by some educational institutions in Australia. He also has a prominent presence in the Australian literary scene!

   A few days before Romeo Owais left for Sydney (December 2019), we had a conversation about the poet Charbel Baini and his literary role. We also discussed the diaspora literary forums that play a significant role in the Australian diaspora, especially the forum sponsored by the lawyer Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad provided me with a wealth of information about these two figures who champion the cause of Arabic literature, striving to elevate it to its rightful place in Australia and within the broader expatriate literary movement.

   After I presented the poet Owais with my aforementioned encyclopedia (80 books in one volume/two parts, 1115 pages), along with my book about the poet of Al-Fayha, Saba Zreik, titled "Zreikian Comparisons: Between the Poet of Al-Fayha, Saba Zreik, and Saba the Grandson," he requested two more collections to present to the poet Baini and to Dr. Abou Hamad, thus making the written word my means of reaching them.

   A few weeks passed after Romeo Owais left for Australia, and I received, via Messenger, a thank-you letter from the poet Baini and Dr. Abou Hamad, praising my humble gift.

   In the summer of 2019, Dr. Abou Hamad travelled to Lebanon to participate in a book signing event, accompanied by a seminar about her book, "Charbel Baini: A Beacon of Literature," under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture, at the Municipal Palace in Jdeideh, Metn (Thursday, June 14, 2019). Dr. Abou Hamad contacted me, inviting me to attend this literary event, which is of great interest to me!

   Three days after acquiring the book (Charbel Baini: A Beacon of Literature), signed by its author, I completed a detailed critical review and sent it via email to both Dr. Abou Hamad (who was still in Lebanon) and the poet Baini, who was in Australia attending his highly anticipated event! They both expressed their astonishment, wondering how a 228-page book (of medium format) could be read carefully and a critical review written about it overnight! This study, which marked the beginning of my literary relationship with Al-Baini—whom I have yet to meet in person—strengthened the bonds of friendship with our poet. It's an almost daily connection, maintained through Facebook, as Al-Baini is an active user, regaling us daily with a poem or a short piece, whether in his colloquial or classical Arabic, a news item, a recollection of a particular event, or a review of a collection of poems, and so on.

   Perhaps that study, "Charbel Baini: A Beacon of Literature," which he recently discovered, piqued his interest. In early March 2020, he asked me to write an introduction to his poetry collection, "I Love You." My critical review was well-received, prompting him to request another introduction for his collection, "Maniacs." This commendable ambition stems from the saying of Imam Ali (peace be upon him): "Two are never satisfied: the seeker of knowledge and the seeker of wealth!" When I returned, I informed him that his allotted time with me, indeed his share, had run out, because I had made a vow to myself never to write three reviews for any writer or researcher, except in exceptional circumstances!

   The reason for this—which I didn't tell him—was that some might mistakenly believe there was a hidden agenda, leading to speculations and interpretations that would be detrimental to both the writer and the critic!

   However, Al-Baini's gentle and kind insistence compelled me to continue my critical work with him, based on the principle that "necessity knows no law!"

   Thus, I wrote two more critical reviews of his two poetry collections, "The Star of Poetry" and "Quintets of Love," bringing his total to five reviews, exceeding 250 pages of medium format! When the revelation descended upon Al-Baini - and I do not consider that to be a revelation - he suggested to me that a book should be included with these reviews, entitled: “Charbel Baini between Classical and Colloquial Arabic”, and that it should be published in Sydney, in two formats: electronic and paper.

   Undoubtedly, what motivated me to accept this offer was not the prospect of a book published under my name, but rather my intention to view this book as a platform from which to launch an "encyclopedia" on Australian diaspora literature. This is especially relevant given that, in addition to the five reviews by Al-Baini, I currently have seven reviews, as follows: three reviews of the poet Romeo Owais (previously mentioned); two reviews of my late friend, the Australian/Lebanese artist and poet Ghassan Alam El-Din (may God have mercy on him), the first being for his collection "Green in the Plains of Locusts," and the second for his collection "A Sun Hidden in My Chest/Cities"; a critical review of the Syrian writer residing in Australia, Aman Al-Sayed, on her book "Inmates of Dreams - A Collection of Stories"; and a review of the Australian-Lebanese journalist Nadine Al-Shaar on her poetry collection with a Sufi bent, titled "Altars of Love."

   And there will be an expansion beyond these names, especially among the third and fourth generations of the Lebanese community and other Arab communities, some of whom occupy influential positions in Australian universities, in the field of literary journalism, and elsewhere.

   ...This is the path that led me to Charbel Baini, and my first guide was Romeo Owais. 

The question remains: Why Charbel Baini?

- Charbel Baini because, in addition to being deeply rooted in the Australian diaspora for fifty consecutive years, he carries the cause of his homeland (Lebanon) in his mind, a wound embedded in his heart, a pain that will haunt him until his last breath!

- Charbel Baini because he is at the forefront, indeed the leading figure, among his peers in the first rank of poets in the Australian diaspora, in the realm of poetry, both classical and colloquial! - Charbel is dear to me because he is ever-burningly passionate in defending the causes of the nation, especially the Palestinian cause and all other Arab causes, in the face of the nation's enemies who attack it from every direction!

- Charbel is dear to me because he is the undisputed "poet of exile," his poetry a roaring, overflowing waterfall amidst the poetry of the diaspora... and even after fifty years, it continues to flow!

- Charbel is dear to me because he is that "Gibran" and "Nizar" (referring to Gibran Khalil Gibran and Nizar Qabbani) who rebels against the infernal alliance between the merchants of the temple and the corrupt politicians who sold out their homelands, impoverished their people, and scattered many of them to the four corners of the earth!

- Charbel is dear to me because he advocates for a unified Lebanese national life, recognizing the other who is different: in creed and religion... for what matters to him is humanity and humanity alone, free from all sectarian, regional, or ethnic affiliations! Charbel Baini, even if he were to conceal his name, you wouldn't know him. When he speaks, you wouldn't know which sect or religion he belongs to; he transcends sects and religions, reaching for humanity itself!

   ...And Charbel Baini remains that loving, kind-hearted, and pure-spirited "child," who neither argues nor flatters, humble and never turns his cheek away from people, nor walks the earth arrogantly, based on his belief that "God does not love the boastful and arrogant" (Quran: Luqman 18).

   ...And finally, Charbel Baini is that diligent and tireless scholar, working day and night, even to the point of "madness," to place his work, for the sake of knowledge, in the hands of people, seeking neither reward nor gratitude, except to serve the cause of Arabic literature in the Australian diaspora, and beyond that diaspora! ...And as we turn to "Charbel Baini: Between Classical and Colloquial Arabic," shedding some light on its five chapters, we find it begins with a critical review of Baini's collection "I Love You," titled: "Charbel Baini Declares Love for Women... and Doesn't Compromise!"

   This review analyses and deconstructs forty-nine poems, thirty-four of which adhere to classical Arabic and follow the traditional meter, while fifteen are free verse. Baini himself describes these latter poems as "love outside the bounds of meter." We conclude that this collection, "I Love You," is a comprehensive and definitive treatise on love!

   ...The second critical review, which focuses on the collection "Maniacs," is titled: "Through the collection 'Maniacs,' Charbel Baini Bears Witness to His Time and Triumphs for the Nation!" Through this collection of poems, which adheres entirely to the Lebanese vernacular, Al-Baini confronted, with words and images, the Lebanese Civil War that ravaged his homeland between 1975 and 1976, known as the Two-Year War, and which continued through devastating rounds until 1989. This senseless war claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, leaving countless wounded and disabled, in addition to destroying public services and infrastructure. And the war continues to weigh heavily on the Lebanese people! In this collection, Al-Baini champions the Lebanese people and unleashes his fury and curses, in all their "heavy Caliber," upon the tyrannical and corrupt rulers. All of this is done from a position of struggle, reflecting a political awareness and a transcendence of the abhorrent sectarianism that political opportunists and criminals exploited to create an unbridgeable rift among the Lebanese, and wounds that will never heal!

   As for the central review, the third chapter, "Charbel Baini: A Beacon of Literature," it was a review in which we examined fifteen of Baini's poetry collections: eleven in Lebanese colloquial Arabic and four in Classical Arabic. Through this wide range of collections, we identified what we termed Baini's "manifesto," or discourse, exploring his biography and long literary journey through a captivating hypothetical dialogue between the book's author, Dr. Abou Hamad, and our poet. He shared with her milestones in his life, beginning in his birthplace of Mejdlaya and continuing to Sydney, where he now resides permanently.

   We have delved into Charbel Baini's thesis on Classical and Colloquial Arabic, exploring its dimensions and foundations in the four reviews included in this book.

   ...regarding "The Star of Poetry," which we approached through our critical review: 

   "The Star of Poetry... Sailing on the sails of Classical Arabic, it Plows a boundless sea!" He employed Classical Arabic. Intending it as a poetic rainbow, Baini included forty-four poems drawn from some of his other collections, resulting in a collection with a diverse, eclectic character that cannot be categorized into a single poetic style. The poems range from emotional and patriotic to political and pan-Arab, and even include panegyrics to Arab cities, capitals, and prominent figures who played significant roles in various fields.

   ... The latest review of the collection "Love Quintets" was titled: "Love Quintets: A Testimony to Colloquial Poetry... Undeniable!" 

   In it, we delved into the foundations of our poet's thesis on love, drawing on Ibn Hazm al-Andalusi's book "The Ring of the Dove on Intimacy and Lovers," not to mention tracing his "love" journey through its three stages: "Starting with 'Adolescence' (1968), passing through 'A Love Symphony' (1989), and ending with these 'quintets' (between 2018 and 2020), which are, in his view, poetic 'quibbles' in colloquial Arabic, totalling one hundred and fifty-three. They belong, in their entirety, to chaste love poetry tinged with a touch of spirituality, as well as to sensual, lustful love poetry, but to a lower degree!" If there is a defining characteristic of this book, with its five reviews, it lies in the interplay between Classical Arabic and colloquial (or spoken) language in Charbel Baini's work.

   The Lebanese colloquial language occupies the largest space in Baini's poetry, to the point that in his daily Facebook posts, whether sharing his older or newer works, he frequently uses poems and fragments in this dialect. It's worth noting that this inclination doesn't detract from his poetic output in any way. The colloquial language, like Classical Arabic, possesses its own unique beauty, which rivals and sometimes even surpasses that of Classical Arabic. Our conclusive proof is his collection "Munajat Ali" (In praise of ALI), written in the colloquial dialect, which has achieved international acclaim, as we've mentioned in several parts of the book. Al-Baini was able to showcase his abilities in both classical and colloquial Arabic, culminating in his masterpiece “Al-Mirbadiya,” which blended classical and colloquial Arabic with elements of zajal poetry. He recited it at the eighth Al-Mirbad Festival, where it resonated deeply! Not to mention his other collections in colloquial Arabic, which have been translated into multiple languages!

   We will not dwell further on the topic of classical and colloquial Arabic in this brief overview, as we have already addressed it thoroughly in our five reviews. Our conclusive argument is that Al-Baini excelled in his classical poetry just as much as he excelled in his colloquial poetry!

   In conclusion, from Tripoli (Lebanon)... from my tormented homeland, Lebanon, from across the seas, I send these reviews to the intellectuals of the Australian diaspora. I have family and friends in this diaspora, and I hope that my book will add a brick to the edifice of diaspora literature, to which we aspire with pride!

Dr. Mostapha Helwe

President of the Arab Philosophical Union

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Introduction/ As for love… “And as for the favour of your Lord, speak of it.” (Holy Quran)

   Within the framework of the love/woman debate, this collection of poems, “I Love You,” is presented to us by a Lebanese Arab poet whose reputation has spread throughout the Australian diaspora, and who has become a leading figure among his peers in the diaspora.

   “I Love You,” the title, prominently displayed, accompanied by a cover by the talented artist Randa Baini from Doha, “Al-Baini,” points to this creative dialogue between love and woman, leading us to the truth of the well-known saying, “A book is judged by its cover!” Indeed, our collection can be read through two interconnected and complementary titles—word and image—that place us before the message the poet Charbel Ba’ini intended: a message of love, in all its vocabulary, connotations, and implications, declaring, without hesitation, his love for his beloved woman!

   How could Baini not choose “I love you” as the title/message of his collection, when he sees his beloved as the most beautiful of all women God created: “...And I have chosen the most beautiful woman on earth / To tell her every morning: / I love you... Yes, I love you!” (from the poem: Daughter of Egypt)?! And how could he not, when in his poem “Tremors of Passion,” he asserts that “love is the highest blessing bestowed upon us / In it lies the heart’s happiness, or in it lies nourishment”?! When love becomes a blessing, it acquires a sacred quality, for blessings descend from God, thus necessitating gratitude through expressing these blessings: "And as for the favour of your Lord, speak of it!" Thus, our poet Al-Baini began to speak of the blessing of love, resulting in "The Anthology of Love," striving for the continuation of this blessing, for blessings endure through gratitude, as Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (may God honour his face) said.

   Immersed in the sanctity of love—with woman as its subject—the poet unleashes a resounding cry: "Love is a god embodied in hearts / Love is what created us," from the poem "Leaves of Confession," elevating it to the level of divinity and all that it reveals of creation! He followed this testimony with another, addressed to his beloved: “Your love, my darling, is sacred to me / Your love is a god I worship / And a moon from which I draw inspiration for my writings” (from the poem: Confessional Notes) ... This testimony, which associates another deity with God—love—finds its justification when we understand, from a Christian perspective, that “God is love,” and thus, in our philosophical terms, it is a merging of essence (God) and attribute (love)!

   The matter was settled when our poet declared, in a section of the collection, “Love, since the beginning of love / Is the twin of God… So bear witness!” from the poem: (Enslaved).

   And since Al-Baini wanted to reinforce the presence of the theme of love, he began his collection with the poem “I Love You,” which he also chose as the title for this collection. It's as if he's responding to the popular saying: "The first thing he does is light a candle along the way."

   Not to mention that the titles of all the poems are like tributaries flowing into the overflowing river of his love!

   ...Returning to the debate of love/woman, or rather the debate of love/beauty—framed within the art of love poetry—this debate permeates the collection, with its forty-nine poems. We find ourselves before scenes brimming with: passion, yearning, passion, ecstasy, infatuation, love, intimate conversation, longing, weariness, submission, affection, companionship, infatuation, and rapture... These are the fourteen degrees of love, ascending from lowest to highest, as described by the Arabs. Charbel Baini adheres to them completely, making his collection truly "The Book of Love," soaring with his real or imagined beloved to the highest levels of love! In the collection: Poetic Styles, Essays, and Letters...

   Forty-nine texts, thirty-four of which belong to classical Arabic poetry (Khalil meter), while the remaining fifteen texts fall under the category of prose poetry, which our poet has labelled "love outside of meter." This latter collection is a testament to a "Sinbad-Esque" journey, in which the poet took his beloved to the continents of Europe, Asia, Central America, and Africa, showcasing the most important aspects of some capitals and cities (London, Switzerland, Italy, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Bali, Mexico, Egypt, Dubai, Hong Kong, Belgium, and Singapore). Regarding the poetic meters that the poet adhered to, the Rajaz meter was dominant, in its complete and truncated forms (19 poems), and the Ramal meter, in its complete and truncated forms, accounted for six poems, as did the Kamil meter, in its complete and truncated forms (6 poems), while there was one poem each for the Tawil meter, the Khabab meter, and the Wafir meter.

   As we delve into the collection, deconstructing and analysing it, we begin by examining its poetic style. We then move on to the themes and letters whose poles are the beloved and the poet—indeed, they are the two sides of the amorous equation that permeates the entire collection, from beginning to end. The beloved holds a striking predominance, occupying the most expansive space within the poems, both those written in meter and those written outside of it. It's worth noting the absence of the beloved's voice; instead, she is represented by the "third-person pronoun," meaning she only appears through the poet's voice and reflected in his mirror.

   Based on this, we will explore two fundamental issues: the poet's vision of himself and his voice, and his vision of his beloved. These two visions complement each other, each acting as cause and effect, directly and inversely. Furthermore, there are other issues that we cannot overlook, as our study will not be complete without addressing them. We must pay special attention to our poet's poem "Leaves of Confession," one of his early works, for it possesses such profound meaning that it borders on philosophy!

   Since style represents the other facet of the creative process, the discourse of style in this collection will occupy the space it deserves.

A- On the Poetic Style of the Collection

   Regarding poetic style, the entire collection belongs to the genre of love poetry. The texts oscillate between explicit urban love poetry and chaste, platonic love poetry, sometimes overlapping between these two styles within a single poem. What reinforces the platonic tendency in the collection are the themes and stances characteristic of the platonic poets known in Arabic literature, such as suffering, hardship, complaint, supplication, and grievance towards the beloved, etc. If we were to define the overall poetic style of the collection, it would contain some elegiac imagery and some love-themed verses, such that it offers the woman, as a body, a description steeped in a refined, sensual materialism!

   Our poet could have spared us the trouble of defining his collection's poetic style by openly declaring, in the opening poem, "I Love You": "My sweet, this is me / I live by verses of love poetry." As we arrest our poet on charges of eroticism, his story with lips and breasts unfolds through numerous situations, a theme that no love poet throughout history has escaped. Here are some of the threads of this accusation that bring us the definitive answer: "I kissed her until my beloved was quenched / I hid a thousand kisses in her bosom / The nights without her are endless / The sweetest nights I lived were near her." Poem: (Yes, I Love Her).

   "I loved kissing the red lips, / Will I extinguish a flame you ignited? / Will I end a feverish night / In which I tamed the breast, I set the mouth ablaze / Above the dark breasts I hung my ego / I planted a thousand kisses upon the chest." Poem: (Oh, My Sweet). Thus, this story with the beloved unfolds in chapters, teeming with crimson nights. The poet has placed the nectar of her lips and breasts before his own, drinking deeply from this nectar, yet never quenching his thirst!

   "How many kisses have I entrusted to a lip?" (Poem: Your Lips) ... "Kiss me and embrace me / I am not content with my years / Then give me, my life / A kiss that erases my moans / Whenever I bring my lips near... kiss me." (Poem: Kiss Me)

   It is as if our poet is in a state of "ancient!" hunger for kisses and for the caress of breasts, imploring his beloved whenever he brings his lips near hers! Elsewhere, we read: "Your sweet saliva has become a blessing / My thirsty lips, give me more of your kiss" (from the poem "Dance Me"). Doesn't the expression "my kiss" suggest that the act of kissing has become an addiction for our poet?

   Furthermore, we find the same sentiment: "I kissed her, and my heart told my story" (from the poem "Rewa"). "And I want to kiss cheeks" (from the poem "My Beloved"). And in describing a kiss as tasting like quince, but without bitterness: "By God, it was a kiss / Like the flavour of quince / Quick as a wink / As if it were my future / I am kissing a flower / Sweeter than a carnation" (from the poem "You Are Mine"). In a jealous and protective mood, fearing that his beloved's lips might fall prey to some greedy lover who would harm them, we read: "...I fear for her, my sweet one / From the recklessness of a neglected lip / If it were to ravage her one night / Its teeth like a sickle." (Poem: You Are Mine)

B- The Poet's Self-Vision

   Through a comprehensive survey of all the poems in the collection, the poet emerges, with all his intellectual and psychological makeup, his expectations, and his suffering, especially the pain of love. He is:

   That lover who suffers, whose eyes betray him, and who doesn't know to whom to turn for help: "The eye reveals its love / Tell me, to whom should I seek refuge!" (Poem: Enslaved) Perhaps this plea will find a response from his beloved, who will become the guardian of his heart: "My heart is sick with love / Be its guardian" (Poem: O Maiden).

   He is the one who suffers the ordeal of rejection, his worries are boundless, and the doors of his beloved are closed to him: "I endured a rejection whose chapters are countless / And I concealed a sorrow that my bags could not contain" (Poem: Peace Be Upon Her).

   From this perspective, he saw himself defeated, raising his white flag before the magic of her eyes: "Magic adorns her eyelids / And I am defeated or defenceless" (Poem: Abla).

   He is the pleading lover, imploring his beloved to shelter him, so that he may be dependent upon her: "Hide me beneath your shawl / And make me one of your children," and since she is his only passion, he is hungry for her bounty: "Feed me from your harvest." In this way, he promotes himself, for he is, in his love for her, and according to his claim, different from others: “Believe me, you will not find/ a love like mine among your men/ Bring me close to you openly/ Seat me on your left.” See, the poem: (Hide Me).

   What is striking is that our lovelorn poet does not aspire to sit to his beloved's right, but rather accepts the left side, despite the connotations this side carries, which diminish his stature!

   ...And as he reaches the pinnacle of his pleas for his beloved, he implores her to take pity on him and rescue him from his madness, indeed, from the deadly loneliness into which he is sinking: "Save me from my madness / From my screams, from my moans / Every time you show resistance / You cast me out of my clothes / Have mercy on my heart and mind / My mind has flown away, my eyes / I walk like a madman / Dragging my suspicions behind me" (from the poem "Madness").

   ...And because love is his cherished kingdom, and he wishes to remain enthroned upon it, our poet delves into the art of supplication, seeing the beloved's compassion as a great treasure. And if she were to rescue him from the pangs of love, it would guarantee a transformation for the better: “...Love is my kingdom...and your affection is my wealth/ Extend your hands and fulfill my hopes/Say: I love you, change my circumstances/Shine like a sun weary from nights/The time has come for it to meet my crescent moon.” (Poem: Answer Me).

   Thus, he calls upon her sun to meet his crescent moon, unaware that “It is not for the sun to overtake the moon, nor does the night outpace the day. Each float in an orbit.” (Holy Quran). Let it be a theatre of the absurd, and let our poet be “Waiting for Godot,” like Samuel Beckett, the famous Irish writer.

   Continuing from the above, and in the realm of begging for love, he calls upon his beloved to publicly acknowledge him as his lover! This occurred while they were in Germany...but alas, as the popular saying goes: “Don’t call out, there’s no one there!” (Poem: A Stranger in Germany).

   This is what he embodied in his words: "Answer me if I call: Come / For the rose always responds to my state / I have broken all chains with my actions / Except for my heart, my shackles remain." (Poem: "Answer Me"). Perhaps the prison of the heart is the most oppressive and formidable of prisons!

   He is the one who complains of the beloved's hard heart, lamenting her indifference, for she pays him no heed. Faced with this deliberate disregard, he openly rebels, declaring that he will ultimately triumph: "But your heart is cold / No pulse in it, no sparkle / You Walk beside me like a rock / Your heart is made of paper / And I, poor in love / Am consumed by the fire of insomnia / No, I will not accept defeat / I will win this race." (Poem: "Race"). Thus, he will prevail, as long as he clings to her love, unyielding: "If you say no, or a thousand times no / I will not waver from our love" (Poem: A Thousand No's).

   For the beloved (Abla) has become his past, present, and future, embodying the game of his time, three-dimensional. He is in love with her purity, and she remains the mistress of his eternal love, to the point that he has forgotten his first love: "Yesterday I loved her purity / And today I see her as my best future / She is the mistress of enduring love / She made me forget what first love was" (Poem: Abla).

   Perhaps the characteristic of being held captive, our poet's captivity to his beloved, has a wide scope, manifesting itself in many sections of the collection, and this captivity becomes a form of enslavement!

   He is a prisoner of his beloved, regardless of changing circumstances: "Whatever happens, my sweet / You are the only love" (Poem: Enslaved). He is a prisoner of her love, placing himself at her disposal whenever she desires. He sees his shackles as shackles of gold: "This is me, my shackles are gold / I surrendered the shackles to you, so hold me captive." (Poem: Your Lips) ... It is the ultimate submission and surrender!

   It is as if our poet is echoing what Shawqi, the Prince of Poets, said: "My master and my soul are in his hand / He has lost them, may his hand be safe."

   All that remains is for our poet to declare it explicitly, leaving no room for interpretation: love is his master, and he is enslaved by it, and by extension, by his beloved: "Love is my master / But I am enslaved." (Poem: Enslaved)

   Despite the oppression and enslavement our poet endured, his hope remained pinned on his beloved. He yearned for her care, for her to play with him, dance with him, and wipe away his tears, as if he were a small child longing for a hug! Thus, he implores her to be his guiding light in his darkest night:

   "Dance with me to wipe away my tears / The candles have melted, be my candle / Oh, my life, and embrace my tender waist." But that is not enough for him; he seeks her gaze and her tenderness, reaching a state of blissful madness: "Gaze at my face, become joy / That steals away sighs, heals my anguish / Play music for me... play my melody / Drive me mad" (from the poem "Drive Me Mad").

   Finding himself at a crossroads, our poet is torn by a dilemma: should he continue in the frivolity and folly of love, or heed the call of reason and return to his senses? "My heart begs me to play / And reason calls to me: Be reasonable." (Poem: 'Abla)

   But how can he persist in this folly when insomnia torments him, preventing him from closing his eyes, and his nights grow long, like those of all lovers? "I endure the insomnia of lovers / And suffer from an even longer night." (Poem: 'Abla)

   After all this, having ignored the call of reason, he loses his mind and senses, and his love fails miserably: "I lost my senses and reason in my pursuit of her / But the horses of my trials did not run as usual." (Poem: 'Peace Be Upon Her) C. The Beloved Through the Poet's Lens and in His Mirror!

   It is the nature of all lovers to see their beloved, male or female, through a biased, subjective lens. This lens often tends to exaggerate their worth and elevate their status, overlooking any flaws they may have, and justifying their actions and behaviours. For love, besides being the father of wonders, can also afflict both sight and insight with a degree of distortion or blindness!

   Based on this subjective perspective, and despite the suffering endured by our poet—which we have already discussed—he begins to elevate his beloved, exaggerating her physical and spiritual beauty, and to see her through his lens as follows:

   She is "the sweetest of all," "not even the moon can rival her in beauty / And the sun, I assure you, would be ashamed." (Poem: 'Abla) Rather, she is "the full moon that shone in the poet's April, and a rose that adorns the cheeks"... She is the jewel, a radiant face. See: (You Are the Beloved).

   She is a star, indeed, our poet's star, "for her sake was the light." Her eyes are a deadly spear, and from her lips comes healing for lovers: "She pierced my chest with her spear / And the spear is a deadly glance / And in her lips are the cures." Poem: (My Star) ... And elsewhere, regarding her murderous eyes, they perpetrate mass murder, a massacre! "Read my eyes, do not fear / I have hidden the massacre within them." Poem: (Antara).

   On the cherry of lips, "I see a kind of cherry" (poem: Your Lips), so speak without restraint, for they are a blazing inferno! "I loved kissing the red lips, will I/ extinguish a flame you ignited?" (poem: My Sweet One).

   And since she is "a woman with captivating beauty on her cheeks" (poem: My Sweet One), the poet wanted to capture the dawn upon these cheeks! (poem: Peace Be Upon Her).

   To further describe these cheeks, they are an iris of beauty, where all the colours of fruit intersect, with deep red predominating: "All the fruits fell upon her cheeks / What is the fault if not for the peach ripening on the cheek?" (poem: Narration).

   The beloved's dark complexion and charm elevated her to a level of beauty beyond compare: "Dark complexion and charm, beautiful as madness" (poem: Peace Be Upon Her). She is "Arab of bygone glories," her name not found on any ticket, not embraced by any letter, nor crafted by any poet. She lies beyond the familiar and common alphabet, defying spelling and naming!

   She is the one whose smile was tinged with twilight, whose beauty was forged by gold, so that books could not enumerate her attributes! Indeed, she is "all of life and the beginning of time," as the poem "A Thousand No's" states.

   Regarding her bamboo-like form, which could not bend, she is "...like the poplar in its loftiness," or like an ear of wheat untouched by the wind, remaining perfectly upright, as the poem "Riwa" states. In a critique of her allure, our poet equates her with Eve, the mother of humanity, who expelled Adam from Paradise. He implores her to return him—here referring to himself—to the Garden of Bliss: "I ate all the fruits in Paradise / If you are Eve... return me, Adam" (from the poem "My Sweetheart").

   He transforms the sweat dripping from her brow into a revival of lovers' blossoms after their withering: "O daughter of the East / O granddaughter of poetry and sleepless nights / Holland will preserve the beads of sweat / dripping from you / to revive the flowers of lovers / during the hours of drought" (from "Amsterdam Cycles").

   This is a clear indication that Holland (with its capital Amsterdam) is undeniably the land of flowers! She is the one celebrated by both nature, both printed and man-made, for in her presence, they emerge from the inanimate world into the living: "The Swiss tiles / nailed their colours to the rooftops / and craned to see you / The Alps shed their snowy cloaks / and bowed to catch your breath / The famous Longines watches / set the time of your arrival / as the year sets its seasons" (Poem: "The Tiles of the Alps").

    He sees her as a queen, and crowns her over the land of fog (Britain): "Your shoes, inlaid with Sydney roses / will conquer an empire no man's son has ever conquered" (Poem: "Love in London"). Thus, he bestows upon his beloved some of the "miracles" and wonders that make the hands of Big Ben dance, bringing them back to life... but on the condition that she turns to our poet, exclaiming: "I love you!" Not all of our poet's days with his beloved were paved with roses and kisses. There was rejection and a lack of intimacy—like that endured by all lovers. He accused her of betrayal and threatened to sever their relationship. But alas, he had no power over his heart: "If my heart were in my hand / I would throw it into the hearth / So that the era of passion would end / The era of black hell / But she is treacherous / She stabbed my only love / By God, I am weary / Cease your harm and vanish." However, all these threats proved futile, for he could not escape her love: "And my heart cries out loudly / Come, possess and enslave me." (Poem: "Treacherous").

   Perhaps one of the rare "positive" situations, a paradoxical case, indeed, outside the usual context, is the beloved's affection for the poet, expressing her infatuation with him to the point of kneeling before him and taking him as her master! "You are the most wonderful beloved / And I am consumed by love for you / Arrogant, yet / I kneel before your throne / I want you, my master / Like a fragrant scent / For love has wounded my heart / And my vision is shattered / But your voice is drowned / In its silence, it offers no solace / I loved in you a masculinity / I never thought it would be coquettish / Take me to the embrace of bliss / It is our right to revel / I come to you like a radiant dream / What is the secret that you do not seek..." Poem: (You Are the Beloved).

   And the question remains: Can this poem—being outside the context we are accustomed to—override (in the language of religious scholars), that is, can it nullify or negate the effects of all the other poems in which the poet embodies his suffering, or is it true that "one swallow does not make a spring"?

   D- ...And other significant points! Leaving aside the debate about love/woman, which we have clearly discerned through the poet's own vision and his approach to his beloved as reflected in the mirror of his own being, we will now examine some of the themes that permeate the collection, focusing on the most prominent, foremost among them:

   The poet's concern with the accelerating march of time and the anxieties that overwhelm him as he approaches seventy. He dedicates a poem to this, lamenting his current state of melancholy and physical weakness: "If seventy calls me soon / I will end my bitter, gloomy life / I have become an old man, my cane is long / And my steps have become a cross from my weight." (Poem: Seventy).

   Thus laments our poet, as the passing years turn their backs on him, and Gray hair invades his head, tolling the bell of a life drawing to a close: "It is a shame that my years should be my enemy / It is a shame that my hair should see Gray." Because of this new situation, which pains him, boredom begins to overwhelm him, and loneliness consumes him, leaving him isolated in this world: "I live my life weary of my condition / A stranger who lived in a strange world."

   There is a matter that touches the very core of his emotions, embodied in his poetic spirit, and it is the enduring dynamism that sustains him through time, providing him with the weapon of words—and how powerful a weapon words are for those who have lost all other elements of strength! From here, amidst his multifaceted suffering, he began to boast of his power of words, presenting his "credentials" to his beloved, an ambassador of poetic language, so that she might recognize his true self!: "Do you know that I/ displayed all my artistry/ so that you might admire a poet/ who is not great and rich/ This is me, my sweet/ perfumed with iris/ with poetry I adorned the horizon/ I tamed all tongues" Poem: (A Thousand No's). Regarding the East, lagging behind the times, imprisoned in the cage of servitude, fearing the rising sun of truth and the air of freedom, and drowning in its mystical and mythical thinking, seeing in woman only her sexual aspect, neglecting all other human qualities and faculties within her, as the mother of humanity and the one who moves the world with her left hand, our poet, with a penetrating eye, was able to reflect this dark "Eastern" reality in his poem "Tremors of Passion":

   "A wretched East, out of step with its time / Fearing passion with light and pleasure / Sex, it has decreed, is terrifying and abhorrent / Neither religion nor the Lord of fragrance approves of it / Yet in secret it gains power over / A woman it bought to inflict pain upon / Mirrors tell a tale of its obscenity / That would shame doors and windows / ... All people meet their friends / And our East remains a sorcerer!" E- A Station of Early Creativity Outside the Australian Path!

   "Confessional Notes"... This is one of his earliest poems, written before he had even reached adulthood. Before his departure for Australia, he composed it at the age of sixteen, and it was considered legitimate poetry! As much as this eloquent poem was characterized by its spontaneity, it foreshadowed that the days of Magdalia would bring us a poet destined for greatness, and what a greatness it would be!

   Undoubtedly, what compels us to this description, both of the poem and the poet, is that the poem embodies mystical dimensions and philosophical reflections, destined to develop and lead its author down the path of philosophical literature! Here are some of these mystical and philosophical inclinations in our young poet:

   In his transition from his "mirage-like" state to the world of sensory, material reality—that is, to a completed form—as he observes his rebirth, can we not read in this transformation or embodiment what philosophers say about the formation of things as they move from a state of "primordial matter" to a state of actual, material formation?: "...I was like a mirage/like an illusion/and now I have become reality/I have become a human being who feels/compasses and loves." And let us add, is not love at the origin of creation—as our poet touched upon in one of his poems—according to the Greek philosophers, such that it was from the love of atoms for one another that This universe explodes (Big Bang).

   Furthermore, according to the Sufis, and indeed according to their master Jalal al-Din Rumi, who was asked about love, he replied: "...the celestial bodies that revolve in their heavens are moved by the waves of love. Were it not for love, they would freeze like ice. The celestial bodies continue in their orbits because the throne of God envelops them with the reflections of love!" Elsewhere, this remarkable Sufi goes on to say: "...I will tell you how God created man from clay. He, may His glory be exalted, breathed the breath of love into the clay."

   And returning to "Leaves of Confession," our poet, al-Mejdelawi, dreams each night of his beloved, whose image transports him to a realm accessible only to those who love! Is this not the realm of the Sufis, who cross from one shore to another to encounter the face of God, their means being boundless love, which they call "divine love"?

   And as we move to another station, this time concerning the merging of lovers into one another, becoming one – “Everything in me is yours / You are me, my life” – do we not find ourselves facing a cornerstone of Sufi thought, where the solutions we encounter are found within the folds of Sufi poetry throughout its history?

   And regarding the debate of death/life in the context of love, as our poet evokes the ordeal of Qays al-Amiri (Majnun Layla) and the legend of Romeo and Juliet, where “they all died to live by love,” and so he joins this caravan: “As for me, I am alive / And your love kills me with longing for you,” do we not, through this discourse, encounter the Sufi concept of annihilation and subsistence, where one is annihilated in the absolute so that life may be written for him anew? As our poet elevates love to its highest degree, declaring, "It is you I love, and it is you I worship," he has effectively placed her on the throne of love, associating her with the Lord of the Worlds, the Creator of this universe and the Maker of humankind, to whom believers worship alone, and in the language of Muslims, it is proclaimed: "It is You we worship, and it is You we ask for help."

   In any case, this magnificent poem—as we have described it—which is older than its author in depth, maturity, and far-reaching visions, bestows additional value upon this collection, becoming one of its distinctive and defining features.

In the discourse of style/in the dialectic of meaning-structure!

   Language yielded its reins to our poet, who then controlled it, molded it, and guided it to the meanings and stances he desired! Perhaps the most prominent characteristic of the poems in this collection is their fluidity. They are free from any awkwardness or harshness that might weigh down expression, so that each verse descends like a cool breeze upon the heart! Indeed, the poems have become among the most delicate and pleasing to the ear.

   While our poet strove to avoid dead language, the "language of the grave," and to discard the wooden language, as the French call it, he employed a vibrant language, pulsating with life, supported by a creative imagination. The result was a torrent of unprecedented meanings and innovative imagery, a unique tapestry!

   It should be noted that while our poet did address some themes and subjects previously explored by other poets, especially earlier ones, he worked to present them in a new light, in a renewed form, and even through a new "distribution," so to speak! Thus, the poet distanced himself from blind imitation, which places him among the neo-classical poets.

   …In an illustration of some of the innovative meanings and images, we draw examples from various poems—and these are but a drop in the ocean, as space does not permit us to include them all—we will focus on the following:

   "Will I ever finish a feverish night / In which I tamed the breast, I ignited the mouth!" Poem: (My Sweetheart) ... Through this wonderful verse, Charbel takes us to a night with his beloved, a night of passion, where he works to tame her wild, rebellious breasts with all the caresses, playful touches, and oral dialogue at his command! And on the other side of the image, he ignites his beloved's lips with the flames of his love… And so, between extinguishing a flame and kindling another, there is healing for both! It is a paradox, granted only to the likes of al-Baini, the inspired poets who listen to the genies of the Valley of Genius, whispering to them the clear verses of revelation!

   Regarding the heart of the defeated/exalted poet, who "may bow down in pride" (as in the poem "My Star"), there is also a paradox, embodied in the antithesis that suggests bowing before others is somewhat humiliating, while bowing before the beloved is pure pride! This expression is similar to that of Ibn al-Rumi, who satirizes someone, saying: "...God raised him down!"

   "I ate all the fruits in Paradise / If you are Eve, then return Adam." From the poem "My Sweetheart," our poet was not content with merely eating the apple, as the father of humanity did, but devoured all the fruits of Paradise, thus magnifying his sin, indeed his transgression. He then challenges our mother Eve to expel Adam from the hell of Earth, where he was cast down, and return him to the Gardens of Eternity, so that things may return to their former state! Our poet here is Adam, expelled from his beloved's Paradise! Thus, the poet arrives at an innovative meaning, inspired by one of the milestones in humanity's long and storied journey, a journey that even parallels the legend of the vinegar!

   "Read my eyes, do not fear / I have hidden the massacre within them." From the poem "Antara." Notice the imperative form of "read," meaning "discover" or something similar, to reveal the crime committed by the beloved, a crime foretold by the language of the eyes—and what a language the eyes are!

   And so, to the beauty of expression... Where the poet is assigned the role of an investigating judge (or interrogator), we are struck by the density of meaning, where three scenes are contained within a few words (the rhetorical dimension): the poet as he attempts to read what the beloved's eyes conceal; the poet's hesitation as he explores the eyes, only to be encouraged by the beloved; the massacre in all its horror, the features of which this beloved strives to hide!

   Since we will limit ourselves, for analysis and deconstruction, to these examples as representative samples, we refer to some meanings and images for further consideration, according to the approach we have adopted:

   "Her lips are a temple of goddesses / And my mouth trembles if it kisses" (poem: 'Abla).

   "This is me, my shackles are gold / I surrendered the shackles to you, so imprison me" (poem: Your Lips).

"If my heart were in my hand / I would throw it into the hearth" (poem: Treacherous).

"If you sleep in "My tent/ The reed will play/ And if you invade my mouth/ Gold will envelop you" (Poem: My Moon).

   "The beating of my heart is a cry/ I fear the reproach of the sleepers" (Poem: O Heart).

   "Your enchanting beauty has shackled them/ Nailed them to the streets like lampposts/ Forcing them to relinquish their eyes/ Which they gifted to you/ And nothing remains on their faces but glasses" (Poem: You Have Colonized Hong Kong, etc.).

   And as we move to that range of poetic meters employed by our poet in the first section of the collection, the Rajaz meter—as we mentioned earlier—both in its complete and truncated forms, held sway (19 poems). It is a meter with a beautiful rhythm, capable of bearing what other poetic meters cannot, due to the repetition of its feet (mustaf'ilun six times), along with its numerous permissible variations. It has rightly been called "the donkey of poetry!"

   As for the Ramal meter—in its complete form and the truncated meter—it is among the most beautiful meters of poetry, due to the beauty of its melody and the smoothness of its composition, especially the truncated form, and the beauty of its rhythm, particularly when we consider that "ramal" in Arabic means trotting, something faster than walking but slower than running. This contributes to the fluidity we have discussed, which is one of the distinctive features of the collection.

   As for the complete meter, in both its full and truncated forms, it is one of the most frequently used poetic meters, being a single foot (mutafa'ilun) repeated six times, which facilitates the poet's versification process.

   Moving on to a key aspect of the stylistic discourse, we are struck by the abundance of rhetorical and stylistic devices that the poet skilfully employed to enhance meaning, create vivid imagery, and employ personification, revealing a creative and imaginative imagination!

   Regarding the most prominent lexical field in the collection, it lies in the poet's ability to evoke several hundred words related to love. This led us, at one point in this study, to label the collection "The Book of Love": its themes, expressions, and vocabulary. Thus, if one wishes to delve into the lexicon of love, one has no choice but to explore the treasures of this magnificent book!

   And as we conclude our discussion of the debate surrounding meanings and structures—a debate in which our poet has excelled—we draw upon the insights of the researcher and literary critic Dr. Zahida Darwish Jabbour: “...Poetry is the language of vision, or the experience in which a vision is born (...) Poetic language is not merely a means of expressing clear thoughts, feelings, and visions, but rather an attempt to capture the elusive meaning that flashes like lightning, only to be swallowed up by darkness once more.” (See, “Cultural Beacons” magazine, Book Seven, November 2019, Gross Press Publishers, study entitled: Arabic Poetry and the Horizons and Limits of Criticism, p. 71).

   ...Thus, it becomes clear from all the evidence we have presented, and from our analysis and deconstruction of the poems in the collection, that our poet, at several junctures, managed to capture these elusive meanings. These were brilliant flashes illuminating the paths of lovers yearning to declare their love to women, in every time and place. Furthermore, regarding these elusive meanings, he seized them Our poet, with ease and grace, seems to embody the spirit of Abu al-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi, as rhymes flow to him spontaneously:

   I sleep soundly, oblivious to its stray thoughts,

   While others stay awake, arguing and debating over it!

   ...And yet, "I Love You," the anthology of love, nay, the comprehensive book of love, cannot be read casually or hastily. Rather, it is read through a ritualistic process, known only to those afflicted by love!

**

Introduction/"Maniacs"... Signed by a poet and penned by buds in the bloom of youth!

   Because they remain in their innate "spontaneity," falsehood cannot approach them, nor can the whispers of human or jinn devils reach them. For children, indeed for their world, there is a vast expanse of transparent vision, natural feeling, and purity, leading to the veracity of words and the certainty of news!

   And why the surprise? Do we not sometimes turn to children, seeking their counsel and discerning their intuition, inspired by the popular saying: "Take your omen from children"?

   The world of childhood, the world of innocence, which tells us what the adult world might not dare to utter, has a long and fruitful history with Charbel Baini! From his position as an educator and teacher in the Australian diaspora, he instilled in them wonderful songs, which he compiled in a book entitled: "Sing, Children." He also brought them to the stage to perform fourteen plays, rivalling the quality of plays produced by adults, so that all of them could witness the creative energies and talents that children possess, which can only be unearthed by those fortunate enough to discover them, like Al-Baini and others like him who nurture and cultivate creativity! Thus, our poet—as we knew him—summoned eleven children (eight girls and three boys), the eldest twelve years old, to his "Maniacs." He forged a partnership with them, a partnership of equals, and we find ourselves confronted with eleven drawings that, as much as they adorned the "collection" and bestowed upon it added value, revealed the penetrating visions, aspirations, and expectations these children held. Thus, the collection was completed, chapter by chapter, by what their feelings revealed and what their skilled brushes expressed!

   These are drawings/paintings, most of them steeped in the pure, innocent blood of the Lebanese, while some peer, through cracks, into arenas of promised hope and expectation! ...Nasr Attieh, Micheline Ishaq, George (without family name), Amal Jaitani, Nancy (without family name), Natalie Abi Arraj, Georgina Younan, Anthony Romanos, Bernadette Assaf (nine and a half years old!), Silvana Abou Melhem, and Amelie Assaf... Eleven artists... who became partners with Charbel Baini, sharing with him the honour of victory for a ravaged Lebanon, and may their names remain alongside his, two, three, four, five, six, seven... and every time "Majaneen- Maniacs" appears in a new edition, until the end of time!

   Eleven children expressed their sorrow for their homeland, their reverence for their country's flag, dripping with blood, embodied as a breaking heart... There was a cedar tree hanging from a gallows, a dove of peace carrying the nation's flag in its beak, a crescent embracing a cross, symbolizing national unity, coffins lined up beneath the feet of an ancient cedar tree, a child watering a cedar sapling that will grow tall with time, an eye wide open, its pupil a cedar... and finally, the Lebanese flag, its cedar pierced by an awl!

   Thus, through two paths—the path of permissible poetry and the path of creative hands—we had "Majaneen" (Maniacs), who confronted, with words and images, the devastating "civil" war (!) that ravaged Lebanon, beginning on April 13, 1975. Known as the Two-Year War (1975-1976), it lasted for a decade and a half, ending only after the (Taif Agreement) in 1989. Its repercussions continue to erode the Lebanese entity on all levels, threatening its very existence!

"Maniacs"... When a poet's madness takes hold! Because, in Al-Baini’s view, the birth of each poem is a rebirth for him, so that the father merges with the newborn… And because the dream that never ceased to haunt him, passing from the world of dreams to the world of embodiment… And because in the beginning, “was the Word,” and the Word, to God, means homeland… And because the Word, when it is placed in its proper place, breathes life… Our poet had the right to lament for his homeland, to triumph for it over all the tyrants who wreaked havoc and destruction upon it, scattering its people to the four corners of the earth! … 

   Thus, from his children came the speaking drawings, witnesses to the crime of the age, and from him came the word/bullet… And he was “Maniacs”! "Every time a poem is born, a new world is born within me. The dream becomes reality. The word becomes a creation, separated by a vast distance. The word is a homeland... I am drawing it with my own hands." (Poem: The Word is a Homeland).

   As the poet dismisses those who accuse him of madness and nervous exhaustion, he reveals the torment he endures, which drives him to confrontation, thus granting him a new lease on life! "They thought my madness was near, and my nerves were frayed from the pounding. They didn't know that when I suffer, my life is renewed through my torment." (And what will be the end of it?!).

   Thus, in this state, he will not rest, nor will his voice be silenced, and the universe will become the arena of confrontation he wages: "...I will remain the loud voice, and the universe is my domain." (The Loud Voice).

   And if some weak-willed and envious people accuse our poet of arrogance and a thirst for fame, he refutes them and exposes the fallacy of their position. They don't realize that he writes to incite his people to revolt and urge them to confront their oppressors: "Don't call me an arrogant poet/ Seeking fame and the glory of palaces/ I write so my people will revolt/ And slaughter the madmen with their bare hands" (All Agree).

   This mission, which he unleashes through poetry, will not achieve its goal unless coexistence is established among his people: "So that neighbour remains by neighbour/ I want the houses of poetry to be blown up/ And deliver my loved ones from their misery" (The People's wolves).

   Undoubtedly, our poet’s conviction that a new life was written for him prompted him to abandon all petty calculations, and he began to roar with the free word, hoping that it would be written on his tombstone: He died for the sake of his people: “I don’t care if they stab my chest/ I don’t care if my body turns to ash/ What matters to me… is that my grave is not opened/ except in my country… and it is written above it: He died to redeem a people and a country” (The People's wolves).

    In detailing the mission the poet undertakes, which borders on self-sacrifice, he strives to save his country from corrupt rulers, liberate the land from occupying invaders, and bring his people out of the shackles of tribalism, crossing over to the embrace of the homeland: "I wish I could save my country/ from all its pain/ and the deceit of rulers/ and the kissing of hands/ I wish I could buy with my blood/ the security of all the people/ and instead of tribalism, sanctify the nation/ and unite the word/ and no army will be able to occupy it again" (And what will be the end result?!).

   ...Through this mission, he raises his voice to the heavens and plucks a star from the sky, with which he pierces the paths of darkness in which his people are drowning, so that the conspiracy is exposed and collapses, and the truth appears and falsehood perishes, "Indeed, falsehood is ever bound to perish": "My voice is loud, loud/ O my wounded homeland/ It roars through the nights/ That wound it deeply/ (..) I am trying to gather a star/ O my homeland Lebanon/ So that with its light I may pierce the darkness/ That is planted everywhere/ And let the people see/ What is hidden is now exposed" (The Loud Voice).

   It is the pinnacle of sacrifice: for the homeland to endure, with the poet unconcerned with his own fate, departing this mortal world, wiping the stain of shame from his country's brow with his blood: "...Even if I die for her sake...it matters not/The important thing is that my homeland, Lebanon, remains/And wipe the shame from its brow with my blood" (Our Country).

   And when asked—and we are the ones who ask—who are you, our poet, that you have dedicated yourself to this task, a task that entails death and dire consequences?!

   The poet has the right to respond, armed with weapons he has prepared to terrify the enemies of God: the temple robbers, the internal enemies—the thieving politicians—and the external enemies... all of whom are attacking the homeland from every corner! As for our poet, he declares: his faith lies in the unity of his loving people. He is a believer in God, from whom he receives support, and God is sufficient for him, the best of guardians. He is a believer in Jesus Christ, in the Prophet Muhammad, and in the Gospel and the Quran. All of these are his best provisions and strongest weapons in the confrontation he is waging: "I believe in God... and it is shameful to emphasize this belief/ I believe in Jesus and the Messenger too/ I believe in my Gospel and the Quran/ And I believe in the unity of a people/ Who lived in contentment and love/ On the land of Lebanon" (Faith).

   And as the poet reveals the secret of his faith, he condemns and criticizes those whose hearts are diseased! They inquire about his religion and sect: "And you ask me what my religion is?/ And you have no shame?!/ You wound God's heart!" (What is your religion?)

   Lebanon has become his love, and he fears the slightest harm to it: "Lebanon, I am consumed by love/ And I am jealous of even the breeze that touches it." (They betrayed the homeland.)

"Maniacs" / In Literary Style

   From an interview with the Iraqi writer Widad Farhan (published on March 17, 2011, in the Australian online newspaper Panorama - Sydney), the poet Charbel Baini casually points to the literary style of the collection we are discussing, saying: "In Lebanon, I published two collections, 'Adolescence' and 'Scattered Poems,' about Lebanon and the revolution. These works led to my exile because of the revolution's rejection there. But exile ultimately restored my freedom and dignity, so I wrote 'Maniacs,' 'God's Curse Upon Us,' 'A Donkey's people,' and other revolutionary poems, without losing a hair on my head."

   Thus, according to our poet, "Maniacs," along with other collections, falls under the category of nationalistic and political poetry with a revolutionary bent. It is a literary genre that is resorted to during times of crisis that afflict peoples and nations, especially political, security, and economic crises, not to mention a country's exposure to foreign occupation or external aggression, and the whole range of possibilities that could expose that country to existential danger. Often, the ruling class, with its oppression, injustice, and starvation of the people, can be even more oppressive than foreign occupation!

   Since national poetry expresses a stance, it is necessarily committed poetry, as long as it raises the banner of change, even urging the people to rise up and revolt.

   As we delved into "Maniacs," immersing ourselves in its thirty-eight poems, we discovered that the Lebanese Civil War (1975-1976) dominated the first edition of the collection, while subsequent five editions included additional poems. Some of these poems date back to 2014, thirty-eight years after the first edition (1976).

   This is of no consequence, as long as the included poems remain within the overall context of the other poems.

   And if our poet chose to use colloquial Lebanese Arabic for his collection, it is because he is addressing the Lebanese people, both those residing in Lebanon and those living abroad, primarily. This astute choice of colloquial Arabic also stems from the spontaneity of this language and the greater interaction audiences have with it than with Classical Arabic.

   Through this literary style, Charbel Baini delivers stinging blows to the very heart of those who control and oppress the people, wielding power through various guises and masks.

   Based on this approach, which he adopted as a path of confrontation, he takes upon himself the burden of a cause, pursuing it to its ultimate conclusion. Hence, our poet has always maintained that his poetry, particularly his political and nationalistic verse, is "purposeful, not demagogic," far removed from the ideological manipulation that reduces literature to a hollow, soulless political discourse. Perhaps the most prominent expressive feature of this literary style is its rhetorical quality, which aligns perfectly with our poet's intellectual and psychological makeup—a makeup deeply intertwined with freedom, one that rejects injustice, confronts it head-on, and fears no one in upholding the truth. From this, we observed the "violent" tendency that pervades a significant number of the poems of "Majaneen" (Maniacs).

   According to the thinker and poet Adonis, revolutionary poetry is not poetry that merely accompanies the revolution, but rather poetry that revolts and ignites the revolution in the hearts of its people and society.

   In conclusion, the poet engaged in revolutionary poetry does not merely act as a "recorder"—if one may say so—of the events and realities of the revolution, but rather descends into the arena with his poetry, constructing a provocative stance. Thus, revolutionary poetry acquires its functional dimension.

   Inspired by this description, Charbel Baini was the resounding voice of the revolution, constantly calling for resistance and uprising against the deteriorating reality that burdened the people with its heavy responsibilities. "Maniacs"/ Fiery "Speeches" and Messages in Multiple Directions

   Like a lawyer presenting his case before a court, our poet Charbel Baini embraced this role, in its missionary aspect. He became the people's advocate and the people's judge, issuing verdicts in the name of the people before the revolutionary court!

   The Lebanese "civil" war, so vile, pained our poet as he followed its news and witnessed its horrors in its bloody daily events: the killing and dragging of innocents, the destruction of cities, the looting of villages, and the division of the country: its land, its people, and its institutions... He attributed all of this to a corrupt political class that had brought the country to its lowest point and, knowingly or unknowingly, had mortgaged Lebanon to foreign powers of all stripes! Our poet was deeply troubled by the targeting of his country by external powers, vying amongst themselves but united in their desire to devour Lebanon, aided by treacherous Lebanese hands. This led to what the late journalist Ghassan Tueni described as "a war waged by others on Lebanese soil." Charbel saw it through the eyes of "a war waged by others on Lebanon!"

   ...As we studied this collection and delved into all its poems, we emerged with eight key readings that represent the essence of our poet's national political discourse, through which he conveys multiple messages. We saw him as an unyielding "revolutionary" fighter, his resonant voice echoing against the ruling elite who had become addicted to corruption and committed treason against their people. His voice also resonated loudly in the ears of the "treason thieves," who fanned the flames of sectarian strife, knowing full well what they were doing!

   Furthermore, our poet emerged as a wise preacher, enlightening his people about the dimensions of the insidious conspiracy targeting them and their homeland, and calling them to a common ground. Above all, he was devoted to his country, to the point of worship!

   From all the platforms from which our poet appeared, the stances he publicly declared, and the tasks he undertook, we have gathered these reflections, which we present sequentially as follows:

   First – “War is nothing but what you have known and tasted!”

   War is an inevitable fate for nations throughout history. Indeed, human history is but a series of successive wars, separated by truces that formed brief periods of respite, preparing for the next war, one after another!

   The pre-Islamic sage, Zuhair ibn Abi Sulma, understood the horrors of war, having witnessed the War of Dahis and Ghabra, which erupted between the tribes of Banu Abs and Banu Zhubyan, leaving behind devastating tragedies: “War is nothing but what you have known and tasted, and it is not something to be spoken of lightly!”

   Inspired by this wise poet, we chose the title for our reading of “War” by our “wise man,” Charbel Ba’ini, who was deeply saddened and pained by the Lebanese war – or the war on Lebanon – and this was our first reading. And here he is, illuminating its repercussions, both material and psychological: “Oh people, by God, this war has dragged on / It has scattered us in a thousand directions / We have watered the world with our tears / And at the same time, the fire burns within our hearts / And there are no more places in our hands / Our hands are worn out from the nails of steel” (The people’s wolves).

   …It is the war that turned Lebanon’s paradise into hell: “And they kept singing of its hills/ Until it became a dream/ And in the end, they doubted it/ The banners of blood” (The donkey people).

   In the escalating and deteriorating conditions, religious observances began to lose their prominence due to the erosion of faith and the prevalence of a sense of absurdity or nihilism. Church bells no longer rang, nor did the call to prayer resonate from mosque minarets at dawn: "We're fed up with the dawn call to prayer/ Or attending Mass/ We're fed up with continuing this life/ Devoid of feeling" (And what will become of us?!)

   Our poet points to the most dangerous consequence of this war: it fragmented the people, creating sectarian enclaves, and the terms "East/West" became commonplace. The former were predominantly Christian communities, while the latter comprised a Muslim majority. A wall separated the two areas—a wall of shame! This wretched reality led, among other things, to the abortion of national unity and the demise of an independence that had lasted for nearly three decades! "...Where have we ended up? / Why have the roads swallowed us up/ And their dust erased our names/... They divided us into streets and squares/ And threw hatred into our sweet hearts/ Our independence, which was just born... died/ They crucified it on your soft jaws/ And turned coexistence into a pile of garbage" (The people’s wolves).

   These tragic circumstances have created a state of despair among the Lebanese, leading them—as mentioned earlier—to embrace frustration, nihilism, and hopelessness! These are conditions that, according to psychologists, can lead to suicide: "We are lost in the corners of darkness/ The sun is no longer the sun/ Nor does its light shine/ Even the songs of yesterday/ We can barely hear them/ We have become the torment of the soul/ And we have become sighs" (And what will be the end of it?!).

   ...And as our poet touches upon other scenes from that brutal war, he focuses on the political class that sold the country to foreigners, shedding the tears of a people ravaged by hunger, while the conspirators revelled in luxury: "...They sold your blood for dollars / And soaked your tears in tissues / And they feast on caviar / While you fast from hunger" (Resist).

   Perhaps among the most horrific aspects of the war were the massacres that left hundreds of thousands dead, wounded, disabled, and kidnapped "based on identity!" The situation reached its nadir in some kidnappings, where they were accompanied by rape, assault on women's honour, torture, and even murder! Here is one of these chilling “paintings”: “Enough... Enough/ This is a lie... It’s unbelievable/ A girl they killed and they started/ Exchanging the Mongols over her/ What was her sin... Oh listener, tell me/ (...) They cut her in half again” (Mongols).

Secondly – “Temple Thieves” and “Political Thieves” ... How wretched is their infernal alliance and their deeds!

   Throughout history, there has always been an alliance between the political and religious institutions, eras characterized by tyranny and the oppression of the lower classes, who were called by various epithets, from the common people to the rabble to the masses—a vulnerable and marginalized class.

   This infernal alliance, though largely obsolete in most parts of the world, remains active in Lebanese society and in other Arab and Eastern societies. It should be noted that in our case, this alliance provides shared sectarian interests for the “Temple Thieves,” as our poet calls them, as well as for the dominant political class, mired in corruption and plundering the people up to their ears. Al-Baini has said things about these two groups that would make even Malik blush!

   And as our poet unveils this alliance, whether overt or covert, and sheds light on its egregious acts and the consequences it leaves behind... Negative repercussions on social security, as he places a large part of the blame on the deceived people who remain passive: "By the heavens and the earth, they are deceived / And like herds led / To men they call men of religion / To the lying, deceitful politicians / They sold our blood for millions / And canned our meat like cattle / Like tuna and sardines" (My Heart is a Homeland).

   Furthermore, our poet argues that the religious establishment bears the greatest responsibility for our current situation, as it works to install tyrannical rulers, even contributing to their "creation," most of whom are madmen who inflict oppression and suffering upon their people: "...And I remember the past / When religion / Suffered from its men / Who plundered its resources / To fabricate sultans / Two-thirds of them mad / And their brains empty / (...) And still, in the name of religion / They are creating Sultans/ In human form/ But in deeds of the devil/ And for this reason, Lebanon/ You are reaping fires/ And possessing devils” (Devils).

   …And about both sides of that alliance, temple thieves and thieving politicians, faith has not found its way into their hardened hearts. They are tyrannical infidels, heedless of the Day when faces will be blackened and others whitened! “These are a group of monotheists/ All of them, O Lord, are unjust/ All of them are tyrants/ They do not believe in the Gospel/ They do not believe in the Quran/ Not even in the Torah/ Nor do they consider the Day of Judgment” (My Heart is a Homeland).

   …And as our poet elaborates, throughout the “Diwan,” on the transgressions of the political class, or the leaders, as he calls them, we will extract some examples that serve the purpose! “These leaders have hardened hearts/ They kneel and pray lies for hours of the day/ And without "Pity in the night is killing you" (The people’s wolves). This duality, indeed this schizophrenia embodied in the contradiction between the outward behaviour of political leaders—their apparent devotion to God—and the crimes they commit against the people, brings to mind al-Mutanabbi's words: "A sheikh who considers the five daily prayers supererogatory/ And deems permissible the blood of pilgrims in the Holy Sanctuary!"

   Within this deceptive duality, the leader feigns concern for the country's resources while secretly plundering them, concealing his transgressions, thus perfectly illustrating the common saying, "The protector is the thief!": Where have we ended up?! Why did the paths swallow us up? (...) The worker, the guardian of the land and vineyards, is secretly stealing from our vines (The people’s wolves).

   Undoubtedly, what this leadership means to the "herds" of the people—as they see them! —is to use them as ladders to climb to their ambitions and desires, and to use religion as a paved road to accumulating wealth: "So that leaders may destroy each other, the people have... ladders and steps, and religion is the closest path... to wealth" (The people’s wolves).

   And the leader, with his "Nero-like" tendencies (referring to Nero, the burner of Rome), does not hesitate to spread discord among the people, so that it spreads like wildfire, and he warms himself by its blazing flames!: "...And every leader, with a single word of incitement, sows hunger, madness, and blood in our land, and then warms himself by its raging fire" (The people’s wolves).

   And about the leader More horrific and diabolical than Satan himself, our poet has compiled a list of his sins, pointing him out and repeatedly uttering the pronoun "He" as the opening to each transgression and sin, thus strengthening his indictment: "He is the one who made our country live in hell / He is the one who burned your candles at his altar / He is the one who deliberately destroyed the gardens of paradise / He is the one who stole so you would die of hunger / He is the one whom even Satan feared / (...) and prevented you, my brother, from achieving your return" (The people’s wolves).

   Perhaps this last sin is what pains our poet and all the Lebanese expatriates scattered across the globe the most, for the leader, and behind him the system of corruption and decay, is the one who blocks the return of our expatriates to their homelands!

   And at the head the sins of political leaders spread sectarianism, a deadly poison, further fragmenting society and severing ties between religious communities, leaving the country in ruins: "...its poison is religious strife / And black flowers adorn the path" (The people’s wolves).

   It would have been easier to bear had the sins been limited to what has been mentioned. Political leaders even denied children bread, the most basic necessity: "They stole the bread from my table / And left my children screaming / They told me: Feed them with dignity / Your dignity will hatch in the belly" (Pottery Breaks Pottery)...

   And if the ultimate sin is unforgivable, namely blasphemy, as the religious saying goes: "There is no sin greater than blasphemy!", then political leaders have gone too far in their blasphemy, selling the nation and its people at public auction! "And the fire... O Independence / Is ablaze in the heart / From People worshipped money / And on the threshing floor of treachery / They gathered a homeland and families / So that the broker could pamper / The Lebanese people" (Where are you, where are you?!).

   ...And as our poet hurls accusations at the political leadership, stripping it of all values and rendering it rife with depravity from head to toe, holding it responsible for the disruption of public services and the paralysis of constitutional life, with all its structures and institutions, and for placing the Lebanese army between the jaws of the dragon... he does not absolve the people, who remain unmoved and unmoved: "We have a leadership wrapped in depravity / And we have a people drunk on their love / Living their years in tears and oppression / And despite the suffering... they are happy with their lives / Without a president... and the palace is in ruins / And the parliament is in disarray... and ruined / And our soldiers are being slaughtered / And so-and-so and so-and-so didn't even flinch / (...) No electricity... and no water for the thirsty" (Me and My Father).   ... Faced with these dire conditions, which are deteriorating at an accelerating pace, the "classic" question remains: What is to be done? And what is the way out of this bottleneck?... Here's what our poet suggests: "I'll say it out loud... let it roar! / Lebanon needs men... not eunuchs! / The thickest Mustache... has no hair left! / I wish... just once... women would rule!" "(Me and my father).

   In response, we see that the issue, or rather the dilemma of our privileged class, is not represented by the absence of masculinity "from above" (curled Mustaches in the style of village toughs), nor masculinity "from below" (impotence and inability to reproduce), but rather it is represented by that structural defect that characterizes our system, which is based on sectarianism, clientelism, and all the other vices and corruptions that block the path to the establishment of a state of citizenship, a state of law, institutions, social justice, and equal opportunities.

Thirdly – Revolution… Revolution, a passage to safety!

   There is no alternative to struggle, in all its forms and at all levels, undertaken by the popular classes harmed by the deteriorating conditions… This is the conviction that formed in our poet, Al-Ba’ini, as he witnessed the corruption of the political system and the leaders who control the levers of power in the country and the destinies of its people, standing as an insurmountable barrier to genuine reform and change. It should be noted that change requires the solidarity of all sincere Lebanese from all sects and political affiliations, so that the desired change takes on a comprehensive and non-sectarian character.

   Thus, our poet unleashed a resounding cry, calling for the taking up of arms: "Resist... my people, resist! / It's not right to remain peaceful! / (...) Carry the sword of fire in your hand / And stand on the sun, ladders / And say: O land of the free / I will gift you a laurel wreath / And a bouquet of music and poems / That will disturb the ruler's eye" (Resist).

   And while our poet warns against falling into the trap of any temptations that the corrupt regime might employ, he calls upon the people not to be complacent, so that this regime may be consumed by fire and fury: "Beware... Beware, no matter what happens / Of walking with a band of Tartars / You must burn them with fire / With a heart of stone that will not soften" (They all agree). Undoubtedly, al-Baini's call stems from his observation of the blind subservience to political leaders, both urban and feudal. He urges the oppressed groups to break free from their control and take their rightful place: "And what will become of us?! / And we're still in Lebanon / Bowing down to so-and-so / And worshipping so-and-so / And revolving around him!" (And what will become of us?!).

   Our poet's fears were amplified when he witnessed a group of educated individuals, on whom hopes were pinned for the nation's advancement, betraying the nation and siding with their sects. How wretched their actions are! "And these young people who were raised / To lead the nation / Betrayed the nation and hid / Behind the unloved religion." (Betrayed the nation). ...And when our poet explains the inclination towards revolution, it is because the leaders committed unspeakable crimes: "They slaughtered you... and greased their boots / They sold you... and filled their coffers / And you still listen to their stories / Fight them... my people... fight them" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). And he advises the revolutionaries, if they are unable to find weapons, to make daggers from their fingernails, to plunge them into the chests of the criminals who have tightened their grip on the people's throats: "Make a dagger from your fingernails / Stick it into their chests, don't delay / Their hands have choked your breath / And their crimes are growing stronger / (...) Before the giant, my people / The rulers will always shrink" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). In the process of confrontation, our poet calls for no distinction between politicians, right and left, for they are all the same in their crimes: "All of them... all of them are in agreement / Left and right / They amuse themselves with people's lives / And destroy the poor people" (All of them are in agreement).

   For the revolution to reach its full potential, the people must awaken from their slumber and join hands in confronting the corrupt leaders: "...Wake up, for God's sake, wake up from your ignorance / And give me your hand / So we can extinguish the fire of its sedition" (The People's wolves).

   This unity among the people, blessed by divine power, will overthrow the ruling clique, and the sea will be their final resting place: "Give me your hand, give me... my brother/ (...) Our dragons, by divine power/ We will finish off a group that has lost its way/ (...) Hurry up so we can carry them together/ And throw them into a sea without end" (The people’s wolves).

   ... Perhaps one of the most important fruits of this struggle is that it transcends the present time, extending into the future, protecting future generations from displacement and providing them with a secure future: "You and I... We will save the generations/ From the injustice that scattered us in this exile/ (...) You and I... Our country is our capital/ And our treasures are the grains of this soil/ (...) Come together so we can achieve our hopes Thirdly – Revolution… Revolution, a passage to safety!

Fourthly – ...it is the guarantee...and there is no shield for the nation but it!

   In the darkness of our gloomy nights, and our Lebanese daily lives, filled with all kinds of suffering – political, economic, social, and service-related – the army remains the source of hope and the glimmer of optimism that appears before Lebanon's eyes!

   How could it not be a source of hope, when it waters the land of the nation, past and present, with the pure blood of its martyrs!... It defends our land against the usurping enemy and the remnants of extremist terrorists: "The blood of the martyr is like wheat in the earth/ It grows to give flour to the people/ It grows to eliminate the armies of hatred/ That trampled the necks of the innocent with their feet/ Were it not for the martyr, the lands would not have been watered (...)/ We would be nothing on the margins of time/ And we would be ashamed to bear our names/ (...) And no people remains on their land for a day/ Without the martyrdom and sacrifice of heroes" (The Blood of the Martyr). Yes! By the testimony of our valiant soldiers, their graves are opened, and the sky smiles, as vast as the heavens themselves! "I always see the grave open/ Heroes sacrificing their lives for the homeland/ To bring back the heavenly laughter" (Me and My Father).

   ... Such is the army and its martyrs, as reflected in our poet's words. And to complete the "inventory," indeed the entire scene, we add a soldier who was martyred in the Arsal mountains at the hands of extremists. He sent a poignant message to his mother, including: "...Don't worry about me/ The valleys are my bed and the blanket is mountains/ I stay awake for my country/ For the laughter of my children/ And beside me, Mama, are men/ He who dies... is not said to have died/ Words bow before the martyr's blood/ And mothers ululate/ For our heroic soldiers" (A Letter from a Martyred Lebanese Soldier).

   ...And speak, with all determination and pride, of that popular embrace of the Lebanese army, on the day it waged a fierce war against the terrorist organization "Fatah al-Islam" in the Nahr al-Bared camp (northern Lebanon), which lasted from May 20 to September 12, 2007, in which 158 soldiers were martyred. Crowds of citizens rushed to hospitals to donate blood for the wounded soldiers of our national army. One of the soldiers was able to record this event through a painting, miraculous in its creativity, which represents a testament to national unity, not to mention that strong bond between the people and the army: "...I didn't know who donated their blood/ Muslim. Christian. no one cared/ Until my blood became a people/ Running in the arteries/ Until my blood became a heart/ And the name of the heart... Lebanon" (Letter of a martyred Lebanese soldier).

   Thus, through the review of the great role of the Lebanese army and the institution to which it belongs—an institution untouched by the rot of corruption, sectarianism, and the various ills that plagued the structures of the state—our poet was justified in concluding, "...If we don't have an army to protect the land, and the people behind it, in every direction, I will continue to weep for my homeland, Lebanon" (My Father and I).

Fifth: Coexistence is the destiny of the Lebanese, and there is no escape from it!

   The theme of coexistence occupies a significant space in this collection, as our poet sees it as a destiny written for the Lebanese, both Christians and Muslims!

   Hence his emphasis on the importance of a participatory approach, one that elevates the nation and keeps its flag flying high: "...and we agree, Muslims and Christians/ And in the air, we raise the flag of my country" (The People's wolves).

And if coexistence cannot exist without its two wings, Christian and Muslim, then, according to our poet, neither has the right to speak or act in a sectarian manner, claiming exclusive ownership of the nation, or occupying a position superior to its partner: "It doesn't matter if you're Muslim/ Or Christian/ Lebanon is yours/ Not your religion" (Donite).

   Hence, our poet abhorred being labelled with sectarian affiliations. When he spoke, he spoke not from a Christian or Muslim perspective, but rather proclaimed his Lebanese identity, declaring unequivocally that he was a Lebanese, the son of a Lebanese! "When I speak to you/ Don't say, 'This is a Christian'/ When I speak to you/ Don't say, 'This is a Quranist'/ I don't speak to you / Nor do words come from my tongue/ Unless I speak to you/ A Lebanese, the son of a Lebanese" (Maniacs).

   Undoubtedly, our poet, with his Lebanese nationalistic leanings, stemmed from a conviction that Christianity and Islam are inherently above hateful fanaticism, a fact clearly demonstrated in the Holy Bible and the Holy Quran, revealed to humanity from a single source.

   From this point, it became incumbent upon every Lebanese person, Muslim or Christian, to address their fellow Lebanese, inviting them to a common ground: “Give me your hand, give me yours/ Let me hold yours/ The era of fanaticism is over/ Wake up, my brother/ The Bible and the Quran/ Did not interpret religions as/ Religious strife/ And be certain... Islam is the brother of Christianity” (Devils).

   Based on this understanding of the essence of the two religions, the poet continually calls for harmony among the Lebanese, imploring them by the Bible and the Quran, that discord should never find its way among them: “...I will raise my head high/ And ask you in the name of religion/ And by the Bible and the Quran/ If you are upset/ Make peace... And if you agree/ It is forbidden to abandon Lebanon” (Maniacs). And if, by chance, a moment of weakness arrives, and some Lebanese stray from the right path, this is nothing but "an abomination of the devil's work," and it will not affect the essence of coexistence, which dates back to ancient times: "...Neighbours who lived their lives/ Didn't ask about religion/ Their religion was faith and pride/ In the cedars and in Sannine/ But in a moment of oppression/ They walked the path of treachery/ With a band of devils" (And what was the end result?!)

   Thus, the corrupt leaders strive in vain to scatter the Lebanese and divide their unity, for Lebanon remains for all its sons and daughters, and for all its spiritual families: "No matter how deeply the leadership drowns in its ignorance/ Lebanon remains for all its inhabitants/ Druze and Christians, united by Islam" (Our Country).

   ...And how beautiful is our poet's portrayal of Khaled Kahoul, the Muslim soldier who, during the dirty civil war, refused to abandon his comrades when an armed militia checkpoint stopped a truck carrying Lebanese soldiers. The militia ordered the Muslims to continue on their way, while the Christians were detained. This courageous soldier addressed the officer in charge of the checkpoint, saying: "Kill me... I'm not afraid/ With my Christian brothers/ We have no sects/ We are soldiers for all of Lebanon/ The country will remain high and protected/ No matter how strong the storms" (Khaled Kahoul).

   ...Thus, with this brave stance, the checkpoint officer was rendered powerless, and Khaled was able to protect all his comrades, he who was raised within the embrace of a national institution, one of the pillars of coexistence!

   In light of this deeply patriotic act, our poet dedicated Khaled as a patron saint for expatriates! "In my name... in the name of the oppressed, I say to you, Khaled Kahoul, may your name be glorified forever, O balm for mothers' hearts, O intercessor for the expatriates" (Khaled Kahoul).

   ...And regarding the role of expatriates in this context, according to our poet, though they may have been separated from their homeland, they remain faithful to that unified national life... They interact with the Lebanon that resides within them, which never leaves them: "And we who were separated/ from your land woven with our tears and cries/ In exile, we drew you/ as a homeland and made you our home/ And in you, we find happiness/ And joy and contentment / Charbel and Ahmad/ And Maarouf and Hanna" (The Ornament of Names).

   And love, the impregnable fortress that expatriates have continually raised, has preserved national unity and coexistence, thus forming an additional pillar for Lebanon: “O my homeland… O my lofty goal/ (...) Even in our exile, we are fortified/ By our love/ And by the unity of our word/ No matter how unjust the world becomes or how great the Day of Judgment arrives” (The Ornament of Names).

Sixth – About a youth named “South,” the likes of whom have never been created!

   The South is the vulnerable flank that has wounded the nation, and continues to wound it, for decades due to the violations and occupations its land has witnessed, the most existentially dangerous of which is the Israeli occupation of parts of its territory. It has paid the highest price for all of Lebanon… It pays it with the lives of its finest youth, who have stained its land with their pure blood, and it pays it with its resources and its waters! Undoubtedly, the stance of the southerners is a source of pride, for they were able to defeat the Zionist enemy and expel it from most of the Lebanese territories whose sanctity it had violated for three consecutive decades.

   Thus, the South occupied a place in the heart of our poet, who began to praise the heroic deeds that were recorded, and he saw in it a young man, bestowing upon him the name "South," as if life itself were breathed into this blessed land, and every southern resistance fighter embodies it!

   Yes! The South, that dark-skinned, dewy-faced youth, the giant whom God created, and "broke the Mold," and for whom He created no equal!... And he, because of what he endured, in his long ordeal, that crucified one on the cross of his pains, is resurrected, each time alive, and destruction and ruin are written upon him, as long as his crucifixion continues: "And what shall I tell you about a youth named (South)/ About a youth as dark as basil leaves/ About a giant youth whose like has never been created/ A million blows they strike him/ And a million lashes they flog him/ And they create from him a thousand (crucified)/ What shall I tell you, O Lord... O Almighty/ About the cruelty of the infidels/ They stamped on his identity card the name (wrathful)/ And wrote on his chest two small sentences:/ He is condemned to see destruction with his own eyes/ And to cultivate and sow all his lands with wars" (My Heart is a Homeland).

   The South Faced with this ordeal that weighs heavily on our South, our poet urges the Southerners to resist, declaring that all Lebanese stand behind them in support. How could they not, when the South is the very air they breathe, the sun that weaves for them from the mountains, a shawl of unparalleled beauty?: "...Keep resisting, no matter what happens/ Your loved ones in this world are many/ You are the air we breathe/ And the sun that steals/ Above my mountains/ And from the fluff of the blue clouds/ You weave my shawl" (South Lebanon).

   ...And the South becomes the dream in the beautiful nights of the Lebanese, and the blood flowing in their veins remains a testament to life, steadfast and defiant in the face of the Zionist occupier: "...You are the dream in our nights/ And the blood that flows in us/ Oh, my South, you will remain steadfast/ No matter how harsh everyone is on you/ Without you, what use is the land/ Of Lebanon, in its length and breadth?" (South Lebanon).

   ...In the fervour of our poet's passion, he calls for the annihilation of the Israeli, promising to build him a coffin from the curses of the children terrified by his relentless wars, and the destruction and bloodshed they have wrought: "I want the invader who still occupies to die on your land/ And I will make him a coffin with my own hands/ From the curses of young children/ Who have had their fill of wars, blood, and fire/ And long for God's mercy" (South Lebanon).

   And how our poet longed to "arm" the southerner, if only words could become rifles! "If poetry were rifles/ I would arm you with my poetry/ And draw a million hands for you/ To defend your interests" (South Lebanon).

Seventh – ...And the pains of migration are ever-present!

   Migration... alienation... exile... displacement... words that resonate deeply with our poet, taking turns, day and night, battering his emotions, so that the burden of separation from his homeland becomes unbearably heavy upon his heart! For fifty years, the haunting presence of these words and their implications never ceased before his eyes: a profound anguish and longing for a homeland he left physically, but left behind in his heart.

   From the very beginning, without ambiguity or misinterpretation, our poet unleashed a cry to the ears of the homeland: "Your land is my bed/ Your air is my blanket/ Your worries are a cross that breaks my shoulders/ If we rejoice in the history of our migration/ Don't think we love our exile/ Oh, my homeland, wandering and barefoot" (The History of Our Migration). He adds that the longing for that homeland still burns in the hearts of the expatriates: "And we are the ones who migrated years ago/ And in our hearts, the longing still/ Burns us day and night" (They Betrayed the Homeland).

   Before delving further into what our poet revealed in "Maniacs," it's essential to highlight a brief dialogue, or rather debate, that took place between us a few weeks ago, the proceedings of which were published on the Al-Ghorba Media website on March 31, 2020. I'll focus on excerpts from his response to me to demonstrate that the pain of exile still resides within him, its flame undiminished: "...You'll find that the Lebanese expatriate—says our poet—even if exile were paved with gold, will still yearn for his birthplace... I didn't learn of my Australian neighbour’s death until a month or more later. I happened upon his widow and asked her about him, and she revealed the secret of his passing... Imagine! And imagine also that, after half a century of living abroad, they still call me the son of Mejdlaya, where I lived for only twenty years of my life, and I never heard Someone calls me the son of Merrylands, the region where I lived for fifty years and built a home. I'll tell you, my dear Dr. Mostapha, a story I've never told anyone before, nor written about: Two weeks after arriving in Australia, I felt a burning, overwhelming longing for home, a feeling that Australia would bury me alive. I decided to escape by any means necessary. The train station was near my home, so I boarded the first train to arrive, intending to return to Mejdlaya. I forgot that Australia is an island perched on the edge of the earth, were it not for my brother's wife's screams and her warning that the train would surely throw me into the sea. Australia is in my heart... but my heart is in Lebanon. This feeling is only truly understood by those living abroad... This is our reality, my dear friend. May God keep you and every Lebanese person safe from exile.

   Perhaps the pain of exile, indeed its very essence, drove our poet to emulate Al-Nawasi's lament, "Cure me with that which was the disease," thus bestowing the name "exile" upon his three media outlets: television, radio, and a magazine! Such was the voice of our expatriates, and the undisputed poet of exile!

   ...Were it not for the necessity of examining the theme of exile as presented in the collection, we would have sufficed with this reading, which is, if we may say so, his latest "fresh" work! Therefore, returning to "Maniacs" is entirely necessary!

   And the overarching question remains, encompassing numerous others, embodied in the following: What does exile mean to Charbel Baini? What does homeland/motherland mean? And what about his alternative homeland, Australia, which is not a replacement for his own?

   ...And memories are the echo of years gone by, or rather, for our poet, a longing bordering on death, a longing for his village of Mejdlaya, expressed through scenes in which his mother is present: "And I remember you, my mother, a hearth/ I remember you, a clay oven/ I remember you, a support cushion/ And a house without walls, I remember you, a heart, a gift, and flowers/ And I remember you and say:/ I wish death were closer than remembrance" (My Mother).

   And what about the homeland, leaving which rises to the level of "shame”? "It's shameful that I leave it and depart/ This place that was the heart of the universe/ And the most beautiful colour/ And more beautiful than the most beautiful/ I haven't forgotten its bounty... And it's hard to forget (...)/ I see it when I sleep" (It's shameful that I leave it). Because Lebanon is deeply rooted in our poet's heart, he glorifies it daily in his exile: "...And no matter how exile changes a person/ And plants illusions and false hopes in their mind/ You will always have: verses from Lebanon/ Glorifying you in your daily exile." From this perspective, the homeland remains a source of strength for the emigrants: "...I swear to you by the cedars... no matter what happens/ Do not despair of victory... Do not collapse/ You are still a source of strength for those who emigrated" (Lebanon is my father).

   Due to the lingering longing the emigrant feels, he yearns to return to his homeland and family: "Oh, if only our past would return/ And displacement would fade into memory/ We left our belongings at the port/ Perhaps tomorrow they will welcome us/ We left them as raised banners/ Telling our story with tears" (Pottery Breaks Pottery). Thus, our poet began to whisper his voice among the expatriates: "Return": "O my people... O expatriates (...)/ Return, O dearest loved ones" (Return).

   And is there a substitute for one's homeland? Is there any place in the world more beautiful than one's village, more enticing to return to it?!: "We long for you, my country, we long for/ the cool mornings/ and the sun that awakens us/ with its magical rays/ the birds that steal us/ and pluck the figs of our red fig tree/ We long for our banners to flutter/ above the protected land/ that we tilled and sweated for/ that we guarded day and night/ so that it would remain Lebanese" (Return).

   In explaining our poet's exile, he attributes it to the corrupt political class that seized everything, leaving him and all other immigrants with nothing but alienation: "What can I do, my Lord?/ They own the land... I own exile" (Pottery breaks pottery).

   Despite the pain of exile and the constant yearning for home, our poet, out of gratitude, highly appreciates Australia's great deeds. It hosted the Lebanese, provided them refuge, fed them when they were hungry, and gave them security when they were afraid! "And with our success, the first thing you congratulated us on/ And received our service with thanks/ Australia... its name is on my lips/ The free and hospitable land" (The History of Our Immigration). ...And as we close the chapter on the theme of exile, and the pen's thirst for expression remains unquenched, we offer a poignant phrase, gleaned from a lengthy dialogue between our poet and the writer Wadad Farhan, previously referenced and quoted: "...Don't you weep?" Al-Baini asks Farhan, "as you remember your family whom you left behind, and the stage of your childhood, where you stood as the undisputed heroine, only to find yourself packing your belongings and abandoning the dream you painted like a rainbow, demolishing the stage from which you gazed upon the world?! (...) This is what happened to me, to you, and to millions of expatriates, unjustly expelled from their homes, who still hold onto the travel documents they waved to their loved ones." (...) He adds, regarding what exile took from him and what it gave him: "It took my life; isn't that enough? Perhaps it gave me freedom." In expression, but at the same time, it cast me into old age, and I still dream of returning, yet return recedes from me (...) Yes, I am afflicted with a longing for those lands that nurtured me, but neither exile hears nor homeland yearns, and I am trapped on the precipice of waiting!

Eighth - Lebanon, the land of legend and sanctity, has a Lord who protects it... and it remains... remains!

   Like the phoenix, rising from its ashes after death, a new life is written for it! Such is Lebanon, upon which storms blow from every deep ravine, shaking it violently, yet each time it emerges from its turmoil unscathed!... It is its destiny to embrace death in pursuit of survival! As if the cedars, the cedars of the Lord, openly declare that whoever is under the Lord's protection remains, as enduring as His cedars, and the Lord is sufficient for him, and what an excellent Guardian!

   From here, our poet could cry out in prayer to God to preserve Lebanon, which he glorifies, through its ancient cedars: "O Lord, keep Your eye upon us/ We who planted high above/ The cedar that is called today... the Cedars of the Lord" (The People's wolves).

   This eternal, timeless cedar is the voice of the ages, coming from the farthest reaches, recounting the timeless legend of Lebanon: "You will remain eternal and protected/ And the cedar on your banks will remain/ Telling the legend of Lebanon" (Khaled Kahoul).

   How can this land perish, it being God's land, as well as the land of humankind, whom God fashioned in His image to be His successor on this earth?!: "No matter how much the raven of separation/ Flies and grows rich/ You will remain the land of two/ God and humankind/ O my homeland, Lebanon" (Lebanon is my father).

   In a state of overwhelming optimism, our poet sees that the land of Lebanon, adorned with the most beautiful flowers, remains radiant, accepting no substitute for its attire, and despair will never find its way into its heart: "The land that donned a cloak of jasmine/ No matter how much it is seared by fire/ And pelted with destruction/ It will never exchange it for a garment of sorrow" (Lebanon is my father).

   In a decisive and unequivocal stance, the poet expresses his confidence in the authenticity of the Lebanese people, as well as their stubbornness and resilience! Thrones may fall and crowns may crumble, but Lebanon remains steadfast, its brow held high! "No matter how much the raven of separation/ Strips us bare/ We are the people of Lebanon/ Countries may change/ Crowns may fly away/ And we will remain" (Where Are You, Where Are You?).

   ...Embodying the resilience of Lebanon, a resilience that encompasses every region—coast, centre, and mountains—our poet takes us on a journey through its diverse areas, bearing witness to their triumph over adversity and all the voices croaking of doom: "No matter how much sorrow wounds us/ And no matter how much the owls hoot/ The sun of truth will remain/ And we march on in your light/ Until we reach Sannine/ To Byblos, the cradle of letters/ To the shores of Naqoura/ To the olive groves of Koura/ To Tyre, the mother of light/ To Sidon... To Damour/ To Baalbek, the quarry/ To the South that will never kneel" (Where Are You, Where Are You?).

   ...This Lebanon will endure for all its people, for all its spiritual families, no matter how much the greedy conspire against it, and no matter how much the corrupt leaders plot against it: "No matter how deeply the leadership drowns in its ignorance/ Lebanon will remain for all its inhabitants/ Druze, Christians, and Islam united" (Our Country). While our poet consoles himself with hope, he is not despairing. He yearns for the good that will overthrow evil, so that the people will prevail over rulers whom even worms find repulsive, let alone humans: "...For surely the days will retreat/ from their deliberate injustice/ and change in the name of the people, rulers/ from whom even worms find disgusting" (And what will be the end result?!).

   The colloquial language, with its beautiful expression and imagery, is a masterpiece upon a masterpiece!

   Just as Charbel Baini excelled in his classical Arabic poetry, he also excelled in his colloquial poetry, which he explores across several collections, standing as a testament to the beauty of expression and imagery inherent in colloquial language! His collection "In praise of ALI," written in colloquial Arabic, addresses Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib in the language of the Psalms. This collection achieved international acclaim, being translated from Arabic into English, French, Spanish, Persian, and Urdu, and earning him the George Jurdak Award for Creative Poetry. This is in addition to his other collections, beginning with "Adolescence" (1968), followed by "Quatrains" (fourth edition, 2016), and "God with a Drop of Oil" (third edition, 2016), which is considered one of his finest works. Our poet recommended it to the writer and lawyer Dr. Bahia Abou Hamad, describing it as "unique" in his own words! And there are many more collections, too numerous to mention here.

   These poetic experiments, written in Lebanese colloquial Arabic—all of which have enjoyed considerable success—are presented by Al-Baini as a challenge to the rigid adherents of classical Arabic, thus dismantling the flimsy pretexts they use to justify their prohibition of colloquial Arabic.

   Our poet sought to refute one of the most significant arguments of these adherents, namely, that the use of colloquial Arabic by some poets is clear evidence of their lack of proficiency in classical Arabic. He composed “Al-Mirbadiya” (O Land of Iraq, I Have Come to You) and recited it at the eighth Mirbad Festival (1987). This poem incorporated various forms of classical, free verse, colloquial, and zajal poetry, and it was met with unparalleled acclaim.

   Undoubtedly, colloquial Arabic is considered the “daily sustenance of the people,” as it authentically reflects the flow of life and embodies the popular consciousness in all its facets, in the most perfect way possible. It is not a rival to Classical Arabic, nor does it seek to replace it, for each language has its own domain, and each its own sphere in which it excels! Some open-minded linguists often assert that colloquial Arabic is the strategic reserve reservoir for Classical Arabic, supplying it, over time, with a constant influx of words and expressions, based on the premise that language is a living entity subject to the laws of evolution!

   And as we move on to "Majaneen" (Maniacs), and to the colloquial Arabic of our poet Al-Baini, we find that he created for himself his own Lebanese dialect, "Mejdelawi" (named after his birthplace, Mejdlaya): with its own grammatical rules, its own eloquence, its own rhetoric, and its own distinctive style!

   In approaching this colloquial Arabic, we turn to an article by the writer and researcher Dr. Najma Khalil Habib, in her article evaluating our poet's colloquial language, wrote: "...the spoken language is a free, bold, and frank gypsy woman, uncompromising and spontaneous, pleasing and desiring more than her sister, Classical Arabic, the mistress of chastity and modesty, residing in an ivory tower" (the article was published on the Al-Ghorba website - Sydney on November 28, 2019).

   In our analysis of the book by the writer and lawyer Dr. Bahia Abuu Hamad, titled "Charbel Baini: A Beacon of the Letter" (published in 2019), as well as in our introduction to his poetry collection "I Love You" (published in 2020), which was titled: "Charbel Baini Declares Love for Women 'And Does Not Compromise'," we were able to clarify the thesis of colloquial language in our poet's work and conclude that he mastered both languages, to the point that one is left wondering which he was more proficient in. Creative and captivating!

   As we delve into the expressive discourse in "Majaneen, Maniacs" grounded in colloquial language, we will, through systematic and sequential research, examine several themes, supported by evidence from various texts. These will serve as representative examples and a mere drop in the ocean:

   A- The "flowing" fluidity! Words sometimes flow gently, and at other times with a rapid gait, striking the ears and conveying a message that cannot be postponed! In both cases, these are words and expressions that descend like coolness and peace upon the heart: "I care not if they stab my chest/ I care not if my body turns to ashes/ What matters to me... is that my grave is not opened/ Except in my homeland... And above it is written:/ He died to redeem his people and his country" (The People's wolves).

   Within this languid narrative, as if our poet, like the poet Jarir, "is drawing from the sea and not carving from rock!", we can read: "Give me your hand, give me/ So that I may touch you/ The era of fanaticism is dead/ Wake up, my brother/ The Gospel and the Qur’an/ They did not interpret religions/ Religious prejudices" (Devils).

   In its flowing, rapid rhythm, propelled forward by the rhythmic patterns of the Khabab meter in some lines, we find ourselves before this magnificent passage: "Resist... O my people, resist!/ It's not right to remain peaceful!/ They sold your blood for dollars/ And filled your tears with handkerchiefs/ And they have a feast of caviar/ And you are fasting from the lack of food/ Don't believe them, no matter what happens/ (...) Carry the sword of fire in your hand!" (Resist).

   Perhaps the poem "Mongols," in its entirety, takes us, in a typical fashion, to that "swirlering" flow, where words dance, shoulder to shoulder, as if we were witnessing a choir of authentic Lebanese Dabkeh, performing a folkloric dance ritual of unparalleled beauty! 

   B- A fluid, musical rhythm that brings the spoken word closer to the realm of poetry, with the repetition of certain phrases playing a role in reinforcing the rhythmic dimension of the texts. It's worth noting that music is the dividing line between poetry and prose: "I won't believe, I won't believe/ that my country has become a jungle/ that my people have turned into a ball/ that the pure salt of love/ has spoiled, and the sleeping one is still sleeping" (I won't believe) ... The question is: Doesn't this text possess an overwhelming poetic quality?!

   And from another poem, flowing in this vein: "And I remember you, my mother, a hearth/ I remember you, a light/ I remember you, a support/ And a house without walls/ I remember you, a heart, a gift, and flowers/ And I remember you and say: / I wish death were closer than remembrance" (My Mother).

   C. In its spontaneity and simplicity, the poet, out of loyalty to his vernacular, plucks his phrases and words from the lips of ordinary, simple people, where there is no complexity or affectation. Thus, his lexicon takes on a striking naturalness: "And if the moon is ever bored/ And feels a pang of sorrow/ It descends to pluck flowers from a garden/ Sleeping on the bank of a river/ And sits composing/ The most beautiful poems about Mount Lebanon" (My Heart is a Homeland).

   This simple language, indeed, seemingly effortless yet profound for many poets—and Al-Baini has many examples of it—is understood by the educated (of course), the semi-educated, and even students in their early stages of education... making the vernacular more democratic than classical Arabic, which addresses the elite, not the general public! 

   D- Spoken language, when it speaks in images! Because spoken language—as we mentioned earlier—is taken from people's mouths, it doesn't stray from the realm of their experiences, no matter how they look. These experiences, for the most part, are steeped in their sensory nature, requiring no intellectual effort to understand what they imply or suggest. Knowing that most of our poet's ideas are adorned with these sensory images, becoming more expressive, making the ideas speak through pictures, so to speak: "The dignity of a nation they made into a swing/ And rode on its back... And made it longer" (The People's wolves).

   Doesn't this scene take us back to our celebrations—we Lebanese—where swings were set up in a public square, and we would ride them, and the owner, while pushing the swings with both hands, would chant: "Get off!" And we would answer in unison: "We won't get off!" And he would continue threateningly: "We'll bring you down!" And we would repeat: "We won't get off!" And so on with this refrain, from a beautiful bygone era!

   ...And from another text, in the same vein: "So that leaders can destroy each other/ The people have... ladders and steps!" (The People's wolves).

   E- Direct rhetoric that expresses a message! Especially in Purely political poems, where things are stated as they are, and messages are delivered with utter bluntness. For example, in the poem "Diab al-Sha'b" (The People's wolves), the longest poem in the collection and the most politically charged, we pause at this passage, where the leader who oppresses his people is accused of tyranny and injustice. The pronoun "huwa" (he/it) is repeated five times, preceding and even opening each line of this passage. This is a clear indication to anyone familiar with semantics of what the placement of a word in a sentence (subject and predicate) signifies: "He/It is the one who made our country live in hell/ He/It is the one who burned your candles at his altar/ He/It is the one who deliberately destroyed the gardens of paradise/ He/It is the one who stole so you would die of hunger/ He/It is the one whom even Satan feared!"

   And - Innovative and non-innovative expressions the preceding: ... Speak of it without hesitation, for it permeates the pages of the anthology, from beginning to end, some even reaching the level of miraculous eloquence!

   ... As examples, not an exhaustive list, here are some of these expressions:

   Regarding what the corrupt leaders perpetrated and did to the nascent independence of Lebanon: "...They crucified it upon your soft jaws/ And reduced coexistence to a pile of garbage!"... This is an innovative image with two faces: the unfamiliar act of crucifixion upon their soft jaws, a metaphor for neglecting to speak of independence, and for coexistence discarded and accumulating like piles of garbage!

   "Its poison is religious strife" (The People's wolves). This is what the political leaders deliberately do, spreading deadly religious strife like poison!

   ...And this wonderful expression, on the tongue of a martyred soldier, from the battlefield against the terrorists: "Your land is my bed/ And your atmosphere is my blanket" (The History of Our Migration).

   And we move on to a captivating image The heart, with its miraculous quality, is one of the images that only a poet of the same ilk and essence as Al-Baini could create! On the tongue of a martyred Lebanese soldier, he depicts a blood donation campaign for wounded soldiers: “I didn’t know who donated his blood/ Muslim... Christian, no one cared/ Until my blood became a people/ Running in the artery/ Until my blood became a heart/ And the name of the heart is Lebanon” (A message from a martyred Lebanese soldier).

   ...The blood flowed into the soldier's body, as if this blood were the embodiment of the people, and the Lebanese people flowed in his veins! Is there a more vivid image of this unity between the people and their army, as they became one with one another in times of hardship and crisis?

   This scene truly deserves to be described as something no eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no human mind has conceived!

   ...And we limit ourselves to these examples because discussing the innovative meanings and images is a lengthy topic, with many facets, that cannot be addressed here!

   G- The tendency towards humour, in expression and imagery, and we offer this example: "I'll say it on the rooftop... it'll roar and roar/ Lebanon needs men... not eunuchs/ The thickest Mustache has no hair left/ I wish women would rule for once" (Me and My Father).

   In popular consciousness, especially in rural areas, manhood is divided in two: half "above" (meaning the curved Mustache upon which an eagle might perch), and half "below" (meaning the penis and the act of procreation associated with it). If a man loses either, he is considered outside the ranks of men! Perhaps our poet, faced with this dramatic situation, wished that women would rule, even just once. This brings to mind Khalil Mutran's poem "Bozorgmehr," where a woman removes her veil and cries out:

   "The beautiful woman would not have lifted her veil / If there were men among this crowd!"

   The colloquial language is replete with rhetorical devices and figures of speech, its foundation being simile, metaphor, and metonymy, not to mention the two aspects of figures of speech: verbal and conceptual. Hardly a poem is devoid of rhetorical artistry, which is not forced but rather serves to reinforce the descriptive and pictorial dimension of the scenes in the collection. In conclusion, we highly recommend this collection of poems, "Maniacs," which retains its enduring relevance. Forty-four years after its initial publication in 1976, it presents us, through its original texts and those added over successive years, with the tragic realities currently endured by the Lebanese people. The corrupt class that dragged Lebanon into a vicious civil war, inflicting upon it all manner of oppression and suffering, remains entrenched in power, perpetuating itself in an even more brutal form and with a deeper stain on the people's blood.

   It is a source of immense pride for Charbel that "An-Nahar Al-Arabi Wal-Dawli" (The Annahar Arab and International) offered a significant endorsement (June 9, 1986) upon the publication of the second edition of this collection, recognizing its powerful and unwavering sincerity, and noting that the poet did not align himself with any particular faction. Rather, his suffering and expression stemmed from the understanding that what befell the nation was a war against everyone and an evil against everyone, and that humanity itself was the ultimate goal, not religion or party!

     As we address our poet (inspired by his own words), we hope that the birds of poetry will continue to peck at his window, urging him to sing more, as they did when he was nine years old, inspiring him as they did, and from that moment he began to speak poetry! We also hope that all the therapeutic institutions will fail to cure him of the affliction of poetry—and what a terrible affliction it is!

- Introduction to the poetry collection "Maniacs" by Charbel Baini, 7th edition (2020), Sydney (Australia). Cover design by artist Fernando Francis. The collection was first published in Sydney in 1976.

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Bahia

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Introduction / "Qabbani" guided him to classical Arabic poetry... and creativity blossomed!

   "...His love for Nizar Qabbani was a blind love, which grew in his heart from their first meeting in 1968, the day he went to Beirut with his brother Joseph to present a copy of his colloquial poetry collection (Adolescence) to his mentor Nizar. He was seventeen years old, yet he took the copy from Charbel's hand and began to leaf through it. After a few minutes, he turned to him, saying: 'You are a poet, Charbel, but you write in Lebanese colloquial Arabic, which is not understood by more than three million people. Leave aside the language of Said Akl, for Said Akl will soon abandon it and return to writing in classical Arabic, which is read by more than one hundred million people.'" You, my friend, should focus on the many, not the few. Charbel responded, "Since I am unable to compete with you in classical Arabic poetry, of which you are the undisputed master, I will now confine myself to writing in colloquial Arabic." Nizar was impressed by his answer and invited him to lunch. "...I will now confine myself to writing in colloquial Arabic..." Examining this phrase from the dialogue between the two poets, we conclude that Baini was proceeding with his poetry in Lebanese colloquial Arabic, while leaving the door open to another option, postponed until a later date, whether long or short. Thus, our poet resorted to "linking the dispute," to use the terminology of legal scholars, a tactic employed when a legal case is delayed. The dispute is "linked" in time to maintain its effects and allow for a future return to it. Following this "historic," indeed pivotal, meeting in Charbel Baini's life and literary career, what might This foreshadowed dramatic and constructive transformations. Our poet pondered the advice he had received from a towering figure, indeed, from a leading authority on Arabic poetry. He reflected that Qabbani would not have entrusted him with the responsibility of mastering classical Arabic had he not perceived in him a poet, or a "potential poet," and he did not hesitate to bestow upon him the title of poet!

   At this juncture, we can confidently say that our poet did not sleep a wink that night, having been honoured twice: once by Qabbani's conferral of that title upon him, and a second time when the two poets shared a meal! And what a profound meaning "sharing" it holds in the Arabic lexicon! Also noteworthy is the pretext that Al-Baini came up with to escape “temporarily” from the situation he was cornered in: “…as long as I am now unable to compete with you in eloquent poetry, of which you are the master…” So, in order to make a good escape—which is one of the doors of semantic eloquence—our poet placed himself on the path of challenge with Nizar Qabbani, in the coming days, so that he would follow his poetic approach, with a prior acknowledgment, indeed a submission, that his “teacher” is the undisputed master of poetry!

   Perhaps the characteristic of defiance, which Charbel Baini possessed: of course (and his nature is more dominant than his nurture) and a psychological makeup, has always provided him with inexhaustible energy! In this context, we recall the testimony of engineer Rafiq Ghannoum, a friend and close associate of the poet, who said: “Charbel Baini… the magnificent rooster of Nizar Qabbani.” This Charbel, who filled the world and terrified the entire continent of Australia with his courage, ferocity, and chivalry… is the one about whom the renowned writer Joseph Hayek said: “The great writer of the Land of the Cedars, Mr. Charbel Baini, opened the pages of history and let them speak, becoming the music of maidens on the lips of prophets, who bowed their heads before the magnificence of literature, thought, and the word.” Our poet’s glory is sufficiently enhanced by the two letters/testimonies bestowed upon him by Nizar Qabbani in response to Baini’s letter to him on his golden jubilee and the day after his (Qabbani’s) honouring and receiving the Gibran International Prize. These two letters (at the end of 1993 and the beginning of 1994) breathed life into our poet and ignited his dynamism. Which he cherishes, and which is one of the constant motivators of his success and creativity!

   ...Yes! It is advice/burden, nay, trust—and trust weighs heavily on whoever is entrusted with it! “Indeed, we offered the Trust to the heavens and the earth and the mountains, and they declined to bear it and feared it; but man [undertook to] bear it.” (The Holy Quran/Surah Al-Ahzab: 72)—Charbel Baini bore it, and fulfilled his promise. When the time came to fulfill it, he set out to navigate the turbulent sea, and the sails of his ship were unfurled upon the shores of Classical Arabic, and he was among the successful!

   Baini began to ask himself: Why not take the path of Classical Arabic in poetry, without abandoning the colloquial Arabic with which I was born, so that I may attain the best of both worlds, and the glory of both languages?! How could I not, when I have taken that “Nizar” as my role model and ideal?!

   And so it was with such boldness, our poet earned his poetic "Nizarite" status, as well as the position of disciple to his teacher. He consistently reiterated, in all his pronouncements, that Nizar was his literary role model. In an interview conducted by the literary activist Huda al-Sabbagh, when asked about his ideal in life, he replied without hesitation: "Socially, my father, and literarily, Nizar Qabbani, because he was considered the first to stage a powerful revolution against poetry, making people love it more." He added that Qabbani "brought poetry down from its ivory towers and luxurious palaces, and adorned the huts of the poor with it!"

   While some believe that God creates forty look-alikes in physical appearance, not in intellectual creativity, we maintain that Al-Baini bears a striking resemblance to his teacher and muse, embodied in the delicacy and clarity of his language, the naturalness of his expression, and the fluidity of his poetry. The flowing, which tickles the ears and descends, upon the hearts, as coolness and peace! Thus, our poet truly becomes one of the "disciples" of the "Nizari" poetic school: themes and expressive discourse. And this is what we will devote ample space to, when we approach the themes that the "star of poetry" is vying for, and the messages that he sends to readers, across the Arab scene!

   In the ongoing debate surrounding the issue of colloquial and classical Arabic, and specifically as it relates to our topic, while we agree with the poet Nizar Qabbani's urging of Al-Baini to address the majority of Arabs rather than a minority, we would like to point out that the Lebanese dialect is not isolated from the dialects of other Arab countries. It is one of the Levantine dialects (of the Levant), understood not only by Lebanese but also by Syrians and Palestinians. This dialect has also gained traction in the Americas, both North and South, since the beginning of the last century, with the arrival of Lebanese immigrants in particular, and Arabs from the Levant in general. Those coming from Lebanon were often perceived as Syrians and were labelled as such by the inhabitants of those countries. This does not mean, however, that we place the dialect, in terms of its geographical spread, on par with classical Arabic, which represents a unifying language and a common linguistic denominator across the Arab world. Furthermore, we are not advocates of replacing Classical Arabic with colloquial Arabic, especially given the dubious conflict that raged from the beginning to the middle of the 20th century between those who championed colloquial Arabic and the staunch defenders of Classical Arabic. Egypt, and later Lebanon, became the stage for this conflict, spearheaded by the late Lebanese poet Said Akl (1912-2014). It's worth noting that he was one of the greatest and most creative poets in Classical Arabic, a master of unparalleled artistry! He sang of "Makkah” and its people the honourable and the brave," he sang of Jerusalem as "the Flower of Cities," and he expressed in his verses about the Levant what no poet before him has said, nor will any poet after him ever say! However, a shift occurred in the trajectory of this great poet. He turned away from Classical Arabic and embraced Lebanese colloquial Arabic, even going so far as to advocate for the use of the Latin alphabet, in addition to a few newly created letters designed to suit Lebanese phonetics. This alphabet, comprising thirty-six letters, was dubbed the "Lebanese Intellectual Alphabet"!

   It should be noted that Charbel Baini and his contemporaries, poets of the vernacular, wanted to speak their local language, the language of their people, convinced that language is a component of national and cultural identity, and of belonging to a geographical space with its own unique character. And if there is one distinguishing feature of the vernacular, it is, according to linguists, "the daily sustenance of the people!" Furthermore, there were no underlying reasons or motives that would raise suspicion regarding the adoption of this approach by colloquial poets. Among these poets are those who never left the realm of colloquial poetry, remaining confined to it, either by choice and conviction, or due to a lack of proficiency in classical Arabic and mastery of prosody and rhetoric. As for those who turned to classical Arabic, some achieved remarkable success, foremost among them the poet Charbel Baini. We paused to consider this dual success in our analysis of his magnificent collection, "I Love You," published in Sydney just a few weeks ago!

   Baini sought to demonstrate his "competence" and superiority in both poetic forms, so he cast his net at the "confluence of the two seas," the flowing sea of colloquial Arabic and the sea of classical Arabic, thus attaining the glory of both classical Lebanese and Arabic poetry, which, ultimately, share a common linguistic root. As proof of this dual success, and based on the fact that his poetic talent is the same in both, he presented us with "Al-Mirbadiya," one of his masterpieces, incorporating classical Arabic poetry, free verse, and colloquial verse. This eloquent poem serves as his sole testament, a single instance of his mastery in all poetic forms: classical and colloquial. Thus, the Lebanese poet from Mejdlaya merged with the Arab poet from attraction, a truly remarkable combination!

   …And as we delve deeper into this issue, the issue of colloquial versus classical Arabic, given its presence in Al-Baini’s poetic output, we find that Lebanese colloquial poetry, belonging to the realm of popular poetry, represents an element of Lebanese heritage, connected to classical poetry, though its language differs from classical Arabic within certain boundaries.

   Regarding its most important features, the expatriate writer Jamil Doaihi believes it is richer in its ability to embody traditions and oral heritage. Within its folds, we find information about the lives of previous generations, their ways of life, rituals, and behaviours on various occasions, from holidays and weddings to funerals—not to mention their distinctive accents and proverbs that they incorporated into their speech. Doaihi adds that Lebanese colloquial Arabic shares some poetic meters with Classical Arabic, meaning that it does not lack musical rhythm, a cornerstone of poetry and the defining characteristic that distinguishes poetry from prose.

   As for the connection between Lebanese colloquial Arabic and other Arabic dialects, anyone examining the types of colloquial poetry in the Arab countries neighbouring Lebanon will clearly see that some of these entered through the interaction within the Levantine triangle (Lebanon, Syria, and Palestine), as we alluded to earlier. Some Lebanese poets used to perform at events and celebrations in Syria and Palestine (before the 1948 Nakba).

   ...Furthermore, on the use of colloquial poetry, particularly its connection to the cultural heritage it embodies, the poet Muhammad Ali Shams al-Din, in his analysis of Dr. [Michel Khalil Shiha]'s book, "The Luminaries of Colloquial Poetry in Lebanon," recounts how he felt he was discovering "for the first time the rose and the breeze, the clear spring, the sparrow, and the faces of the peasants carved from the mountain rock... these faces that time, polluted and worn, had almost forgotten." He adds that in this poetry, the fragrance of the mountain wafts, a rock rises, a pickaxe clangs, the sun glides across a tree, or a sparrow makes its beloved, enchanting flights. Regarding the comparison between colloquial and classical poetry, the Egyptian poet Ahmed Fouad Negm is said to have preferred Bayram al-Tunisi to Ahmed Shawqi, and Salah Jahin to Salah Abdel Sabour. It is also said that Ahmed Shawqi repeatedly remarked, "I fear for classical Arabic because of Bayram al-Tunisi." In Lebanon, Rashid Nakhla's majestic opening lines in his zajal poems blend grand cosmic elements—the sun, mountains, winds, and seas—with elements of his own being. Powerful poetry, reminiscent of Ahmed Shawqi himself!

   Regarding the impact of colloquial poetry, the writer Maroun Abboud says: "If a vernacular poet recites a poem at a gathering, the seats and chairs shake with approval, and heads sway like branches beneath the gentle breeze."

   ...In addition to all that we have mentioned, what is recorded in the category of colloquial poetry is realism, wit, expression of feelings, and modes of communication—something that most classical poetry cannot achieve!

   In the message of poetry, as Charbel Baini sees it!

   "People seek their salvation in poetry, and consider it their awaited messiah!"...A phrase signed by Nizar Qabbani, who sees poetry as a wide door, open to hope and salvation! And since Baini draws from this very vision, he clings to a constant he has adhered to in his poetry: "My poetry is purposeful, not demagogic!"—a principle he intends to uphold in all his work. His literary output spanned over fifty years, and he never deviated from his path, never once miscalculating!

   Thus, our poet, in his colloquial poetry as well as his classical verse, sought to elevate poetry to a prophetic mission. His stances were bold, proclaimed without fear, bringing him close to perdition! These are stances of honour, taken only by those with a mission, those who dedicate themselves to their people, their nation, their society, and indeed, to all of humanity!

   Undoubtedly, the message of poetry and the poet is only truly grasped, its aims and dimensions understood, by those endowed with a profound sense of humanity, deeply aware of the wounds of the nation, the tragedies of their society, and the suffering of humankind alike!

   ...It is the message to which our poet dedicated himself, from the perspective of his position and role... It is a message of struggle, striving for the triumph of the values of truth, goodness, and beauty!

   In exploring the role of our poet in this struggle, and the direction of his poetry, we can examine the texts of "Star of Poetry," seeking the ultimate purpose that permeates his poetry, becoming an indelible, unchanging mark upon the body and soul of his poems!

   Grasping at the beginning of this question, a series of questions immediately arise, most notably: What is poetry? What are its fundamental pillars? What is its role, what fields does it cover, and what spaces does it reach? In answering these questions, can the Prince of Poets, Shawqi, provide us with some answers, which he encapsulated in one of his verses: "Poetry, unless it is memory and emotion/ Or wisdom, is merely meter and rhyme"?

   Despite the importance of these foundations, they remain incomplete, as they fail to consider, indeed, they disregard, one of the most prominent dimensions of poetry: the dimension of struggle, which is a distinctly functional dimension!

   ...Poetry is memory, emotion, and wisdom—three elements that are insufficient, as they overlook the commitment to the causes of the afflicted, the wounded, and the oppressed among the people of the nation and the homeland! Thus, from a position of struggle, Charbel Baini proclaims the true message of poetry, completing what Shawqi had left out: "For poetry, from the beginning, is a nation's revolution/ That came to purify souls of demands/ And poetry, what is immortal in poetry/ Unless tyrants kill its talents" (from the poem: Gibran).

   Through this "revolutionary" vision, poetry acquires a profoundly charged credibility, giving voice to the burning issues within the people. No poet achieves immortality unless they are subjected to oppression at the hands of tyrants who strive to stifle their voice; thus, their reward is the greatest reward... It is in the arena of struggle that poetry truly finds its battle and its manifestations, not on platforms, in closed halls, or among elites seated in comfortable chairs! And it is not only teachers who grant approval; even executioners have their graduates from the schools of oppression and tyranny—and what graduates they are!

   In this context, did not our poet appreciate the role of Nizar Qabbani, his role model, as "the first to revolt against poetry with a powerful revolution, bringing it down from its ivory towers and luxurious palaces, and using it to adorn the huts of the poor?!" From this perspective, the poet doesn't craft his expressions with conventional language, but rather from the fire of his inner turmoil: "My heart is in turmoil with separation/ With fire I forged poetry and sentences" (Ahed Tamimi).

   Based on this understanding of the true dimensions of poetry, our poet dedicated himself, from a position of divine mission, to a sacred task: "...and I dedicated myself to holiness as a poet" (The Day We Departed).

   Undoubtedly, the sanctity of this mission did not arise from nothing, but is divinely ordained and blessed: "...O poet, whose letters God crafted/ Rebuke, so that words may restrain your people/ You are strong, in expression and resolve/ And to you, in the evening, the heart yearns" (Shadows).

   This sacred message becomes the standard by which poetry is measured; the poet either triumphs magnificently or falls spectacularly. Thus, on the day of his celebration of winning the Gibran International Prize, our poet addressed Gibran in his grave, saying: "Believe, O Gibran, the absolute poet / Whose words are chewed by the jaws of folly will vanish/ We, in the land of exile, ignite our poetry/ So that remnants may die in the land of our ancestors/ And I have written a poem about a homeland/ When I say: Lebanon, on the horizon, has built a dwelling/ Sydney sang of it, and minds chose it" (Gibran).

   And to the extent that poetry possesses a militant character, it must shun trivial speech and all that smacks of vulgarity and cheapness! Thus, it was a call to restore poetry to its former glory, to return it to its bygone days when it held power and authority: "Return to poetry its bygone days / Most poems are the product of folly/ They consider poetry trivial talk/ Mere chatter that has bewildered the wise" (O Guardians of Poetry).

   In this context, with the aim of protecting poets from any dangers that threaten them individually, and as they are exposed to the temptations of leaders who are adept at buying and selling loyalties, our poet calls for the establishment of unifying frameworks for them: "Poetry, unless embraced by bonds/ Becomes a mere scribe for the leader/ Its thoughts become confused and conflicting/ And they climb upon it, for personal gain and positions" (Gibran).

   In highlighting the role of expatriate poetry, our poet appreciates the contribution of Australian media in conveying the voices of poets freely and without financial burden, unlike the situation in his homeland and throughout the Arab world, where freedoms are suppressed and those who speak out are persecuted: "...We toiled so that thought might remain responsible/ For the people whose world is captive/ For the people thrown into prison/ As judgments are thrown into the mire/ Here, the media gives us without treachery/ So that poetry may become self-made verses" (Iraqi).

   ...And it remains true that the poet's message—like poetry itself—which we have discussed, knows no tranquillity, no submission, and sleep finds no way to it: "...Does the eye of poetry sleep soundly/ While calamities strut upon its lashes?!" (Shadows).

   "The Star of Poetry" / Poetic Colours, Themes, and Messages Under the Microscope!

"Star of Poetry," as its author intended it to be a poetic rainbow, is a collection of selected poems from some of his works, resulting in a "star" that illuminates the spaces of his poetry woven in classical Arabic! Thus, it is difficult to categorize these poems, with their eclectic nature, under a single poetic genre!

   In observing the dominant poetic styles in this collection, we find they oscillate between lyrical poetry, overflowing with the poet's alienation, a torrent of pain, longing, and memories, and all the anguish of nostalgia that spills from his soul; and patriotic poetry with a political foundation, where the poet carries in his heart and soul the burden of a homeland beset by calamities, strangled by a corrupt political class addicted to corruption and moral decay, leading the country to a disastrous fate; and pan-Arab poetry, where our poet is burdened by the concerns of a nation declining to its lowest point in various fields; and poetry dedicated to coexistence and the recognition of the other, especially in terms of religious affiliation.

   In addition to these four colours, there is a poetic colour encompassing thirty poems, covering two-thirds of the collection (30 poems out of 44). This dominant poetic colour leans towards praise and "occasional" celebration, through two poetic narratives—as we like to call them—the first of which, through twelve poems, addresses ten Arab cities/or capitals (glorifying Baghdad in two poems), in addition to a poem about "Mazraat al-Shouf," the cradle of "the Baini families," while the second narrative (18 poems) praises twenty-one figures who played roles of great importance, each from their own position, some of whom have departed to eternity, and some of whom are still active and alive!

   And to these four colours, there is a poetic colour that encompasses thirty poems, covering two-thirds of the collection (30 poems out of 44). While these thirty poems outwardly possess a celebratory and laudatory character, they collectively form platforms from which the poet expresses stances and visions related to the theme of alienation, national and pan-Arab political poetry, and other poetic forms. Beyond all these poetic styles, there is room for wisdom poetry and reflections that reveal a profound life experience and a penetrating insight into the vicissitudes and sorrows of time. ...In parallel with the poetic arts we have reviewed, it is justifiable for us to move to the themes that are distributed throughout the poems of "Star of Poetry," placing them under the microscope and dissecting them, examining their arguments and what they indicate in terms of dimensions, aims, and messages:

   A- The theme of alienation: It is fragmentation...

   It is estrangement in its two aspects: alienation from the self in its destructive psychological dimension (alienation), and geographical/spatial estrangement... Indeed, it is a bleeding wound, through both forms of estrangement, that cannot be healed, and remains, day and night, open to excruciating and renewed pain! That is what the expatriate endures from the moment his feet touch foreign soil and an environment completely unrelated to his own. The pangs of longing begin, and the passage of time becomes a constant struggle between memory and reality: "How many homes on earth does a young man become familiar with, yet his longing is always for his first home!"

   An expatriate may experience a kind of tranquillity, not comfort, after a period of time away from their homeland. This adaptation is often "forced," based on the principle of "if you can't have what you want, then want what you have!" This adaptation may be more effective for expatriate intellectuals, as the new environment provides them with ample freedom and welcomes their "revolutionary" thought, which was stifled in their homelands. Thus, the temporary alternative homeland compensates for the original one, and the latter may even become the original homeland for those who have achieved exceptional success. This leads to a merging of the two and a transition to a "cosmopolitan" homeland, one that transcends the confines of local/national geography and embraces the vastness of the world under the umbrella of globalization, which has spread its wings across the entire universe. This is some of what I discussed with our poet, Al-Baini, during the debate I mentioned in my introduction to his collection "Maniacs," which was published... Electronically and in print, in Sydney, just a few weeks ago. Al-Baini disagreed with my “globalized” perspective, as he still sees himself, and is seen, as a son of “Mejdlaya,” not of Merrylands, the area in Sydney where he has lived for five decades. And beyond the process of rejection—if I may call it that—that our poet experiences from time to time, the pain of alienation remains deeply ingrained in him, as was evident in the debate we mentioned earlier! Indeed, alienation has become his bitter daily bread, like a daily pain that constantly gnaws at him!

   Following our approach to the theme of alienation through “Star of Poetry,” it becomes clear that there are poems that revolve entirely around this theme, and others that oscillate between more than one poetic style, one of which is alienation. Added to this are the expatriate reflections woven into the folds of the two narratives: the urban one (referring to the cities celebrated) and the one that praises certain prominent figures. These two narratives, as mentioned earlier, serve as platforms from which our poet addresses this thesis and various other issues.

   ...The homeland is that pain coursing through our poet's veins. When he addresses three pillars of Lebanese zajal (George Abu Antoun, Elias Khalil, and Antoun Saade), who were honoured in Sydney, he entrusts them with a message of anguish for the homeland he left behind, the homeland he still inhabits: "...If you return to our land, tell it: It flows as blood in our veins!" (O Guardians of Poetry).

   And as he addresses the last of the great classical poets, Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri, he confides in him the pain that accompanies him wherever he goes: "I was far from your home, do you know that I carry my weariness? Wherever I turn, my exile is pain. Oh, how I wish you would come to my exile!" (Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri).

   Perhaps our poet, in inviting al-Jawahiri to visit him in his Australian exile, wants him to witness al-Baini's pain firsthand, for seeing is believing! In addressing our poet Said Akl, he laments the state of his homeland, ruled by the infidels and the corrupt, and expresses the despair that grips him due to displacement, as life passes him by, and gray hairs have crept into his eyes: “Our Lebanon, O Akl, you are its shield/ Why does the idol rule?/ Look at its face, disgusted/ And lava erupts in its jaws/ We despair of our dispersal/ We are enveloped by weariness in exile/ Look at us, our gray hair is regret/ Have mercy... regret may be of no use” (Said Akl).

   And no matter how far the distances stretch between the poet’s homeland and his exile, he remains longing for it, for the beautiful era of his homeland still occupies his heart and ignites his emotions! Undeterred by distances, he yearns to return to it. But alas, how could he confront the relentless march of time, which carries him toward old age, thus preventing that longed-for return? "My land, though far away/ My feet yearn for it/ I run... but a grave of nothingness precedes me" (My Flag).

   Thus, the dream of returning home burns within him as a painful longing: "My exile... a fire of painful yearning/ And my return is the sweetest promise" (Star of Poetry).

   This constant yearning, for our poet, has become a state of love at its highest level. His homeland is his beloved, and when a beloved departs from their beloved, death becomes their fate (lover and beloved!). He loved his homeland, a love that spanned two lifetimes: the era of his youth and the one he was living through. He wondered reproachfully why his homeland hadn't reciprocated that love, and what had befallen it: "My eyes saw you, my beloved... no wonder/ that they loved you and my ears rejoiced/ I loved you for two lifetimes... Was it Longin / that gifted you a lifetime, which roamed through my body/ that my soul had protected since my upbringing/ What befell you that you didn't cherish love?/ Take the rest of my life, for no homeland / is sweet... nor has any embraced the soil of my shroud" (What Befell You).

   Thus, in addition to the yearning to return, there is another concern that troubles our poet: the embrace of his homeland's soil for his grave—may God grant him a long life—otherwise, this homeland will never be sweet in his eyes! After five decades of forced displacement, tossed about by its turbulent winds, the poet has every right to cling to the hope of returning to his homeland: "I spent my life like the wind, a wanderer/ But your face was always my destination" (Beirut).

   It would be easier to bear if the pain of exile were confined to the displaced expatriate. But there is another party, more acutely aware of that pain: the family he left behind, especially the mother. She sees the umbilical cord that bound her to her son, even before his birth, severed. She lost the one she nurtured and raised when fate snatched him from her through a heinous crime, "plotted in the night." And so, within this mother, a part of herself began to die! In this field, there are two poems, one of which our poet dedicated to his mother, while the second was addressed to all mothers grieving the alienation of their sons! They are two poems, among the most beautiful poems in the collection, overflowing with pain beyond pain!

   In his poem "To My Mother," he begins, pleading, calling out to his mother, for departure has devastated him and wrought havoc upon his heart. He has become ailing, weeping for his displacement, his face drenched with tears when the night's oppression intensifies, causing him to burst into sobs, even wailing. Then our poet expresses his longing for the warmth of his mother's bosom, for the hands that embrace him tenderly, elevating that grieving mother to another deity, worshipping in her sanctuary: "O Mother... Departure continues to Destroy me... My heart is ailing/ I live in separation, drunk with my tears/ The darkness of the night, tormented by wailing/ (...) I long for an arm to envelop me in affection/ And the warmth of a bosom to prolong my slumber/ (...) The peoples of the earth have bestowed upon you glory/ Few are like a mother, O Mother." (…) If I say God, I say my mother/ For I have a glorious Lord in love for her/ And I have eternal paradise in her embrace… After this captivating reading, of the mother’s suffering and her elevation to the highest heavens, the poet reaches the heart of his poem, crying out in supplication to God to return him to his homeland, or rather to his mother (and the homeland, in the end, is a mother, just as the mother is a homeland!), after separation has weighed heavily upon him: “…Why is separation, O Lord, so long?/ Return me… Do not prolong my longing/ How beautiful is her nearness to me… How beautiful” (To My Mother).

   … As for the second poem, "A Mother's Prayer," which is the most poignant, due to the pain of separation that overwhelms every mother, separated from her children by "spatial" and temporal distances, it evokes pity for this grieving mother, who clings to life, despite her failing body, in order to feast her eyes on her grandchildren, for "there is nothing dearer than a child except a grandchild," or as Imam Ali ibn Abi Talib (peace be upon him) says: "My grandson is my son twice over!" Here is this grieving mother... Let us listen to her as she addresses her beloved children with a heart-wrenching plea: "The paths of life have narrowed with your departure/ And separation hides your tears in my eyes/ (...) Have you not seen my gray hairs swarming my temples?/ (...) Have you not seen my steps slow and weary?/ (...) Return to an embrace like no other/ Unless you come to the gardens of my paradise..." But what exacerbates her sorrow is her deprivation of seeing her grandchildren, as we mentioned earlier, who are her very soul and the hope of her future, as she declares in this address/prayer: "...My only dream is to see your children/ (...) Your children are my soul and the hopes of my tomorrow/ (...) Do not deprive me of the gifts of my Creator/ Do not imprison me in the mirrors of my loneliness..." And how intense is the longing that overwhelms the grandmother when she looks at what her grandchildren left behind after their visit to Lebanon, from the scattered drawings of the motherland, stands before these drawings, like poets upon ruins: "Their drawings I nurtured with my hands/ So that my pillow might drink of their fragrance/ And my sheets might flourish with their shade/ And my fingers and my kiss might be intoxicated" (A Mother's Invocation).

   Thus, after this comprehensive overview, it becomes clear that Lebanon constituted, and remains, a moment of love, chosen by Charbel Baini, until his last breath. It is a moment towards which he journeys, a stranger, an exile, a wanderer... burning with the fire of longing, constantly awakened by the yearning for reunion, indeed, by the very moment of reunion that has not yet come, and may never come! And therein lies his tragedy!

   Undoubtedly, this moment of "existential" love has been a recurring theme for most exiled writers, poets and authors alike, but it appeared most prominently in our poet, making him truly deserving of the title "Poet of Exile." No one disputes this title, which he so proudly proclaims!

   Charbel Baini, the “teacher” and intellectual, who emigrated to Australia in his youth, carried with him a wealth of poetry. Unlike many immigrants, he had the tools for poetic creativity in a country where freedom of expression was ample!

   Other uneducated immigrants may have written of their exile in tears, knowing only how to weep and wail, while Baini wrote of his exile in tears, inscribing them on paper as the most exquisite expression of exile and displacement. He wrote it with the blood of his heart, the wine of his pens, responding to the call of the Romantic poet Elias Abu Shabaka: “Wound the heart and let your poetry drink from it / For the blood of the heart is the wine of the pens!”

   Thus, throughout his various collections, we observe, in both content and lexical field, what unequivocally points to… Defeat, heartbreak, and the dream of returning to a homeland from which one was uprooted—these are interwoven with endless existential struggles, chief among them the clash of cultures and civilizations, the clash of customs and traditions... all of which fall under the umbrella of the identity crisis!

   In embodying the wretched state of the expatriate/exiled from his homeland, Edward Said, one of the leading Arab thinkers in the American (North) diaspora, describes exile as "one of the most heartbreaking fates" (from his book: Representations of the Intellectual). He adds, in one of his essays, titled "Reflections on Exile," that "exile is a place that encourages thought, but it is also terrifying!" For the rift it creates in the exile is irreparable!

   This existential fate (and fate is one of the pillars of human existence) in all its manifestations is one that Al-Baini has lived through to the fullest and remains trapped within, offering his perspective. For Arabic literature, this time - and it is one of the times - through his collection “Star of Poetry”, he has produced a high poetic output about alienation, and this collection, woven in classical Arabic and in clear language, has established for him a high rank among his peers, the poets of the diaspora, in the four corners of the earth!

B- On the Political-National Axis

   For Al-Baini, the political-national axis is the “fraternal” axis, interacting in a dialectical movement with the axis of alienation. This is because alienation, to a large extent—its background and motivations—is a manifestation of the dire and deteriorating political situation, the woes of which are being borne by the majority of Lebanese. There is a political class, “wrapped in depravity,” as our poet puts it, that has consistently oppressed the Lebanese and practiced all kinds of tyranny against them. At the height of its corruption and depravity, it did not hesitate to impoverish the people to the point of famine, nor to sell the homeland after mortgaging it to foreigners and outsiders of all kinds. Not content with the injustice it perpetrated, this class drove hundreds of thousands of Lebanese into forced migration in successive waves, particularly during the period of the dirty civil war, in which it had a dark hand. Moreover, it prevents these migrants, clinging to their homeland, from returning, having reduced the country to a barren wasteland, a space of hunger, suppression of public freedoms, persecution of those who speak out, and the stifling of creativity in the sands of its profound ignorance and blind delusion!

   Thus, our poet had to expose this controlling class—not the ruling class, for governance and politics, in their essence, are about managing people's affairs—and to reveal its misdeeds and the sins and violations it commits against its people, obstructing the process of radical change by brandishing the deadly weapon of sectarianism as an "effective" means to divide the Lebanese and sow discord among them. This weapon, unfortunately, has proven its effectiveness, blocking the path to the establishment of a state of law, institutions, social justice, and equal opportunities! Faced with these dire circumstances, which Charbel had witnessed firsthand before emigrating to Australia in the early 1970s—and which had already touched him with their flames when he published his two poetry collections in Lebanon, "Adolescence" (1986) and "Scattered Poems" (1970)—through his daily observations of these conditions in his adopted country, which were rapidly worsening, he felt compelled to enter the fray. He relentlessly attacked the ruling elite with the fire of his poetry, both colloquial and classical, for they had destroyed the land, decimated the people, and sought to perpetuate their control over the nation, becoming like aged vinegar that inflames the wounds of the homeland: "They roamed... and destroyed our crops and our families / And with our rations, they aged the vinegar of leadership" (A Stranger's Writer).

   And as our poet hurls the most vile epithets at corrupt rulers, he, through his "birds of Ababil," pelts them with "stones of baked clay" to render them "like chaff consumed!"... Thus he speaks of the deceitful tyrant who mortgages the lives of his people to cling eternally to the throne, and of lying leaders whose nature is treachery, hastening their steps down the paths of betrayal, leading their people astray: "Our lives are mortgaged to preserve positions/ In which a deceitful tyrant reigns/ (...) Their leaders, the path of betrayal is their path/ (...) If they resolve, then treachery is in their resolve/ And if they speak, then their saliva is deceitful" (Shadows).

   Al-Baini sees his homeland, Lebanon, as existing outside of time, and he grieves for its state; indeed, his wounds bleed. How could he not grieve when he sees the greedy merchant strutting about, unrestrained by religion or values, profiting from the poor man's meagre sustenance! And to those people, there are the rulers, brought from the museum of infidels, devoid of heart and conscience!

   As much as this reality pains him, he criticizes the people for their complacency, even their refusal to confront their tyrannical rulers and the dire misery that befalls them: "What has befallen you today, my country?/ You live in a time outside of time/ (...) An earthly devil, a greedy merchant/ (...) His dollar is the hunger of the poor/ Woe to him, a gluttonous merchant!" And about his country's rulers, the deaf and dumb, "Rulers from a pagan museum/ (...) Drowning in a sea of disbelief and decay" (What has befallen you?).

   Because of this stagnant popular reality, it is not surprising, according to our poet, that the people are led like sheep by an arrogant partisan, while the people are content to praise this lying and treacherous thief. Indeed, everything about him exposes his secret and reveals treachery. This partisan is only quenched by the blood of the people, he lives like a king, while poverty and need nest in the huts! Ironically, the people are aware of their shortcomings, so instead of heaping curses on this thief who breathes lies, inhaling and exhaling, they raise the banner of tolerance! “Like sheep, we are led by a partisan/ arrogant, wavering leader/ We greet, every day, our thief/ the one who steals the honour of greeting/ He is a liar. and treachery is in his joints/ even his breath is more deceitful than his words/ (...) he drinks nothing but red blood/ like a prince, he is pampered in his palace/ and poverty is tormented in our huts/ at his wedding all creatures rejoice/ and at our death no honourable person mourns/ (...) but my people are good and tolerant/ and death comes so that the good may suffer” (Party Leader).

   Perhaps our poet's love for his homeland fuelled his anger towards the leaders and rulers who had wreaked havoc upon it and brought its golden age to a standstill! This love manifested itself creatively in his description of his country's flag, bestowing upon it the most beautiful attributes, and in his pride in his ancestors, the builders of his nation's glory since ancient times: "...The weeping red/ I coloured it with my blood/ And the complaining white/ I sanctified it with my mouth/ (...) Our ancestors planted/ A glory from antiquity" (My Flag).

   Within the context of the political/social debate, these deeply deteriorating conditions on the political level inevitably lead to a decline on the social level (the spread of crime and the perpetration of vices, the reversal of social norms, etc.), leaving negative repercussions on value systems, which have become utterly forgotten: "All paths are fraught with trials/ Wherever we go, strife erupts/ For killing has become our obsession/ Work and professions are made sweet by it/ (...) Our morals, our thoughts have withered/ Like one enveloped by decay/ (...) Even mother's milk is depressed/ Our hatred has surpassed the milk/ Oh, if only my time would end/ So I could see what time leaves behind" (My Time).

C- On the Arab Axis

   To the same degree as our poet's deeply rooted nationalistic inclination, his Arabist leanings were equally strong. It should be noted that his Arab identity is not the Arab identity of the "nationalists" who exploit it and sacrifice it on the altar of oppressive and tyrannical regimes, but rather a civilized Arab identity that strives for the good of the nation and its advancement to the ranks of developed nations.

   Our poet witnessed firsthand the oppressive practices of Arab regimes against their people, particularly those referred to in political parlance as "state-bourgeois regimes." These regimes subjected their people to all forms of subjugation, starvation, and humiliation, not to mention inflicting defeats upon them, most notably the loss of Palestine, the defeat in all the wars that followed the Nakba of 1948, and the complete occupation of Jerusalem by the Zionist enemy!

   Thus, Charbel Baini raised his voice in a resounding lament for the dire state to which the Arabs had sunk in all their countries, and for the ever-increasing misery and suffering endured by their people. Ironically—and this is a uniquely Arab characteristic! —these regimes, even in the midst of their defeats, raise their fingers in a victory sign, for victory, in their view, means the safety of the regimes and those who occupy their seats of power, even if their people perish and the country is ravaged!

   ...And when we characterize exile literature as literature with a prophetic message, it is because it seeks to understand and express the Arab reality without fear or hesitation. It possesses both the vision and the potential to ignite a revolution in all of Arabic literature, stemming from its ability to grasp this reality and avoid getting bogged down in misleading details. This is especially significant given that literature within the Arab world is threatened by police censorship as well as by religious authorities of all stripes.

   In addition to these characteristics that define contemporary diaspora literature, it is, according to literary critic Dr. Muhammad Mandour, a literature of quiet reflection (far removed from empty rhetoric), because it is profound, realistic, and connected to life, devoid of discourse and superficial cultural expression. In our exploration of our poet's "Arabism," we pause to consider the defeat of Arab regimes, despite their false claims of victory, or of a promised victory. It is worth noting that their most bitter defeat was the loss of Jerusalem, the second and the third holiest site in Islam. Indeed, it is a sacred land where Islam and Christianity intersect, through a historical embrace between the crescent and the cross!

   How deeply our poet was pained by the Israeli enemy's occupation of the Syrian Golan Heights! He wonders how the Arab peoples can accept the violation of their lands, holding those in charge of the Arab regimes responsible for reclaiming them from the hands of their Zionist usurpers: "Ah, my beloved people/ When lamentation overwhelms you/ (...) Will Jerusalem be lost to us?/ There is no one among us to answer/ The holiest of places was/ From crescent or cross/ The Golan Heights is not/ A tent sheltering the stranger/ This beloved land/ How can we accept its abandonment?/ No leader said: Stop/ From near or far!" (Ah, my people).

   ... In his poem "Marcel Khalife," on the day of his tribute in the New South Wales Parliament (Sydney) in 2019, Al-Baini criticizes the Arab leaders, saying that the loss of Jerusalem did not trouble any of them, as if the matter did not concern them at all! And how wonderful it would have been if they had triumphed over their enemy just once, for he would have kissed their heads. But they are liars and hypocrites: “Jerusalem is lost… Do not ask about the direction of prayer/ No leader has been troubled by our Jerusalem/ (…) Oh, if only they had weakened my enemy just once/ So that I might kiss the heads of our Arab leaders/ But they have covered the horizon with lies/ And lies are salt… Ah, our salt!”

   And how much our poet was pained by what had become of Iraq, that rising Arab nation, which had reached a level of scientific progress unmatched by any other Arab country, thus posing a potential threat to the Israeli presence. Consequently, it was besieged from 1992 until 2003 when the international coalition (America and Britain…) invaded it, destroying all its achievements and all its cultural landmarks, and pushing it down the path of discord among its sects and ethnicities! Thus, Al-Baini lamented the pain of wounded Iraq: “Baghdad, you are the letter and the pen/ Have mercy on you... how pain has overwhelmed you!” (Baghdad Media). Such was the depth of our poet’s love for Iraq and its capital, Baghdad, that he dedicated two poems to it in his urban narrative, while dedicating one poem to each of the other Arab cities and capitals included in this narrative. He also dedicated two other poems to it, titled “Iraqi” and “One People.”

   ...In the poem "One People," Beirut weeps blood for Baghdad, because the people of Iraq have become martyrs, and they call for takbir (Allahu Akbar) for them! How can Beirut not weep, when wars have ravaged the Arabs, perhaps the most brutal of which was what befell Iraq and its people, where the land was invaded by a treacherous group, more akin to the devil, who killed children and enslaved chaste women: "...This is Beirut, O Baghdad, weeping/ Wipe away the tears, for tears are red/ If you weep today, we weep every day/ Every inch of you, O Baghdad, is a jewel/ Your people, the human being, have become martyrs/ Say 'Allahu Akbar' for them... for God is greater/ (...) My people died when wars annihilated us/ Tell me, if you hear, does the grave feel?/ (...) A treacherous group invades my land/ Resembling the devil, nay, even more cunning in evil/ Killing children, enslaving pure women/ If we were to describe purity... we would say: They are the purest." In his poem "Iraqi," in addition to lamenting Iraq, he also laments Egypt, and the Nile overflows with the tears of his eyes: "...How many tears from our eyes are in the Nile / And how many Euphrates-like sighs are in our throats?"... Al-Baini seized this opportunity to delve, through this poem as well, into the various forms of suffering endured by Arab peoples, from illiteracy and a superstitious, mystical mentality, to the abandonment of Arabism, not to mention the clinging to outdated traditions rather than the authenticity of heritage: "If the people of the Arabic language are illiterate/ They will be invaded by mad pitfalls/ And bubbles and superstitious filth will grow upon their necks and bodies/ (...) And all shame to live by morals/ It is madness to call them heritage/ O land we abandoned in droves/ We erased the name to abolish Arabism/ (...) We left it, and nothing remained but "A transgressor and herds of forgotten neglect" (Iraqi). Undoubtedly, the dominance of a fatalistic mentality has rendered the Arab people’s passive, paralysing their will to change and overthrow their deplorable conditions. Hence, in the face of this resignation, our poet likens the Arab peoples to sheep, even sheep might be ashamed of them in this state! "Jerusalem is lost, our people are sheep/ Out of fear, even sheep might be ashamed!" (Said Akl). Elsewhere, he uses a similar metaphor, describing his people as sheep being led to slaughter, terrified and panicked: "My people... are my people anything but sheep/ For slaughter, like a terrified cockroach?" (Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri).

   And as our poet repeatedly expresses his condemnation of the ruling class that oppresses the nation, as well as the nation that has accepted submission and subservience to this class, he takes the matter to a whole new level in his poem "Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri": "...O nation led by an idol/ Draw near to the mercy of the Judge/ No people have not tasted pain/ But rose from the flames/ Their history... its glories are literature/ Except you, O our Arab history."

   In addressing Al-Mutanabbi, he informs him of the deplorable state of the Arab world, speaking of widespread disbelief, of the ongoing war, of the slaves who rule and sway, of the enduring sorrow, of the destruction of all that we have built, while the West continues its renaissance and progress. Al-Baini, in his yearning, looks forward to a great Arab nation, whose lands are undivided by borders or barriers: “Here disbelief reigns/ Here war rages/ Here death is relentless/ (...) Slaves have wreaked havoc on the land/ We live each day/ Our tears are a celebration of sorrow/ We have destroyed what we built/ While the West constructs/ (...) I yearn for a great nation/ Unburdened by barriers/ That fears no borders/ The unity of the land is the border.” ... One final issue remains, in which we reveal the violent stance taken by our poet towards corrupt leaders and rulers, whom he hurled the most vile insults at.

   In this context, we may ask: Did these attitudes seep into his poetry, following the example of his mentor, the poet Nizar Qabbani? We may read this testimony from the engineer Rafiq Ghanoum, as he provides us with this incident that he witnessed himself: "...And I may not be revealing a secret if I say: that Nizar Qabbani used to curse the Arab leaders, a thousand times a minute, during his telephone calls with Charbel Baini. And how I felt the despair that swept through every cell of his body and mind, and I immediately understood why he wrote his masterpiece (When Will They Announce the Death of the Arabs?), which caused such a stir!" 

D- In calling for coexistence and recognition of the other who is different.

   Because the true poet... the one who speaks the truth—not the court poet nor the poet of sultans, regardless of their rank or position—is the one immersed in his humanity and free from the shackles of clan, tribe, sect, and doctrine. All factional and regional considerations fall away for him, and he becomes the voice of truth, pure and untainted, the champion of his fellow human being, raising the banner of universal humanity in place of all the flags that signify groups closed in on themselves!

   With these qualities, bordering on puritanical idealism, Charbel appears to us through all his poetry collections and his entire literary output. He is, above all, a human being, and he is the purest Lebanese, who refuses to speak in terms of Christianity or Islam, but rather speaks simply as Lebanese, for he is "a Lebanese, son of a Lebanese!" (See his collection "Maniacs"). Here is our poet, from the standpoint of his humanistic inclination, when he is invited to a Ramadan breakfast by the Iraqi Renaissance Association, he sees Ramadan as his month of fasting, just as it is the month of fasting for Muslims! He seized upon this as a spiritual occasion, lamenting his nation, in whose hearts faith had not taken root, and which had begun to disregard the values of fasting and all other religious rites and Islamic obligations, such as the pilgrimage to the Sacred House and the giving of zakat to the poor and needy: "O Creator of the universe, this is my nation/ Walking against creation and the universe/ This is Arabism, exhausted by its wars/ It has not learned to interpret religions well/ So the sectarian, wolfish tongue/ Howls, and evil becomes like a flood..." And while condemning this fanatical sectarian who does not recognize the other who differs from him in religious belief, he presents a balanced perspective on coexistence, the unity of religions, and the essential unity of faith, hoping that this sectarian will repent and return to the right path: "If you are for piety, then by piety I will overcome Satan, O my Judge / What is the difference between me and those who believe / Their Gospel is for God" Like the Quran!

   Thus, our poet approached the thesis of religions from the perspective that "all creation is God's family," that they are all descendants of Adam, and Adam is from dust and to dust he returns!... And the only criterion, the decisive word, remains that the most honourable of people in God's eyes are those who are most beneficial to others: "What is the difference between me and a sincere neighbour/ Who has honoured humanity with humanity/ What is the difference between me and all of creation/ If I do not imitate their language with mine/ If my lineage is the lineage of Adam, woe to them/ How can there be enmity when we are like brothers?"... And, as a culmination of this view open to all of humanity, without differentiating between monotheistic religions, he sees that the "Islamic" month of fasting is his month, indeed his month of fasting, since it originates from a single divine source: "My month... the month of love and piety/ In its light, no two differ/ A month as if God were embodied in it/ This is the testimony of a Christian believer!" (Ramadan.. my month). What a witness, and how powerful this testimony is!

   If one thing leads to another—as they say—then one poet might refer us to another, both of whom share the same intellectual fabric, a single philosophy of life, a similar intellectual vision, and a humanistic outlook that unites them on noble principles and value systems, which they practiced in their actions, not merely ink on paper!

   Based on this, we see parallels, even to the point of convergence, between the poet of exile and the poet of Tripoli, Saba Zreik (1886-1974). They both belonged to the same region, characterized by coexistence. Saba Zreik was from Tripoli, and Charbel Baini was from Mejdlaya (Zgharta), which lies a stone's throw from Tripoli. There has always been interaction between Tripoli, the capital of northern Lebanon, and the various northern districts, and bonds of brotherhood and exchange on all levels! Saba Zreik, the Orthodox Christian from Tripoli, as I described him in my book "Zreikian Insights between the Poet of Al-Fayhaa, Saba Zreik, and Saba the Grandson" (published in 2016 by the Poet of Al-Fayhaa, Saba Zreik Cultural Foundation), is that poet in whom Christianity and Islam merged, so you do not know which of the two religions to attribute him to!

   Drawing upon some examples from my book "The Complete Works of the Poet of Al-Fayhaa, Saba Zreik" (six volumes, 1st edition, 2012), we conclude that the essence of true poetry is singular, and that poets—and thinkers in general—who are not confined by their sects and doctrines, nor beholden to their tribes, clans, and leaders, speak with one voice, uttering words that are beyond reproach, whether from the front, the back, or the rear!

   Regarding the recognition of the different other, and regarding the interaction of the Lebanese and all followers of the two religions, Christianity and Islam, from a national perspective, the poet of Al-Fayhaa says: "When will I live while my neighbour does not know whether he is a Muslim or a Christian? When will I see national lineage as a bond stronger than the pillars of Mount (Thahlan)? When will a sect return to the Merciful One, one that reaps only harm through the interpretation of the Gospel and the Quran?!" These verses were commented upon by Dr. Saba Zreik, the grandson (the book takes the form of a dialogue between grandfather and grandson), who addresses his grandfather: “Truly, when will the banners of sectarianism, which flutter proudly among their followers, be lowered, my grandfather? When will the shackles of kinship, or rather, blind sectarian loyalty, be removed from our hearts, and the light of national loyalty prevail? When will minds return to their senses, so that the Bible and the Quran are no longer exploited to incite conflict and strife between the followers of the two sects, when God created us all from dust, and to Him we shall return?”

   This commentary, delivered by the grandson, Dr. Saba Zreik, is addressed to Charbel Baini, as both poets (Baini and Zreik) draw from the same fundamental truth of faith! Further elaborating on the poet of Al-Fayha, and confirming the convergence, indeed the convergence, between the two poets through their embrace of the unity of religions, here is what he reveals: "...This is my hand I extend to the Muslims / In the name of the Christians, I sing joyfully / My religion and yours, O monotheist, are one / Is Taha your path, or is the Christian ladder? / I am Jesus, whatever my creed dictates / But, in the law of your love, I am a Muslim?!"

   ...In the poem " Adib Al-Beaini," our poet delves into the same themes explored by the poet of Al-Fayha, advocating for coexistence based on the premise that we are one people, Christians and Muslims... We worship one God, the Lord of all the worlds! Thus, he addresses Adib Al-Beaini, the “Druze,” as they share a common lineage, which transcends sectarian affiliation: “We are one people, to God we kneel/ All of us in my homeland are beloved neighbours/ No Druze, no Christians, no discord / Ask Islam about us, it may answer/ (...) Ah, son of the Shouf, is my poetry enough for you?/ You are from me; you are my soul… and my kin” (Adib Al-Beaini).

   ...Charbel Baini, embodies these values, which prioritize humanity regardless of religion, sect, or belief. He would not have embarked on this path had he not been a believer in his Lord, speaking to Him directly, without intermediary, seeking His compassion and favour, and finding in Him the true meaning of his life in this existence: "Have mercy on me, my Lord, for I bow before Your throne, lost in exile... with love and a happy life. I do not seek wealth; my dream is to be enriched by Your mercy. My life without You is a lie. Extend Your hands and embrace me" (Have mercy on me, my Lord).

E- In the two narratives: the glorifying "Cities" narrative and the "occasional" panegyric

   Firstly, in the glorifying "Cities" narrative: Ten Arab cities/capitals are addressed by our poet through a style of poetry that deviates from "classical" praise, even though it outwardly resembles this art. Through this style, our poet addresses an "inanimate" place, which is then imbued with life by a human community that contains it, thus pointing to historical and cultural scenes, thereby bestowing life upon the place! And so, we turn to Beirut, which he loves with boundless passion! … Crossing over to Jerusalem, the land of the prophets, the second of the two qiblas and the third of the two holy mosques, to Makkah, the starting point of the Islamic call and the birthplace of the Arab Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), and the site of the Holy Kaaba, the most prominent of the sacred landmarks… To Baghdad (twice), the capital of Harun al-Rashid and the capital of the world in the Middle Ages… To Damascus of the Umayyads, which the poet loved since its inception, and which is the oldest continuously inhabited city in history! … To Dubai, the dream and jewel of cities, to green Tunis, which no lover could ever cherish like him… To Egypt, the mother of the Arabs, with the grandeur of its pyramids and the Nile, which is its gift… To Amman, the jewel of nations. And let Al-Baini follow these cities and capitals with the Chouf region, the cradle of the Baini tribe, scattered among them: Druze, and in Mejdlaya: Maronites… all of them from one family lineage!

   This Cities narrative is not unique to Al-Baini. Other contemporary Arab poets have explored this art form, such as Said Akl, who sang of Makkah and its noble inhabitants, as well as of Jerusalem, the City of Flowers, and Damascus, in several of his most beautiful poems, extending his themes to other Arab countries and capitals. Not to mention Badr Shakir al-Sayyab, who created his masterpiece "Tammuz Jaykur," which was not merely an immersion in the geography of his birthplace, but a fire that ignited within him the day he left it, to be embraced by the desolate paths of exile. It was a renewed birth of his beloved village within him.

   It should be noted that Al-Baini’s narrative in (Star of Poetry) is the second of two such narratives. Our poet has gifted us with another in his collection (I Love You), where he takes his "virtual" beloved on a Sindbad-like journey, traversing with her global capitals in Europe and North and South America. Africa, along with Australia and Lebanon, introduced us to remarkable landmarks through this journey, pausing at many of its cultural and architectural scenes... Al-Baini has taken the capitals and countries of his narratives, especially the narrative of the collection we are discussing, "Star of Poetry," as beloveds into whom he has breathed his own spirit, adding them to his human beloveds, whether imaginary or real! This overwhelming love is evident in the fervent emotion he bestows upon these capitals/countries, not to mention the rich vocabulary and expressions of love!

   Perhaps what drove our poet to become attached to cities/capitals, regardless of their geography, is that "in the life of every poet there is a city (or several cities) in which he dreams of residing, both physically and linguistically... physically, as a human being, in a geographically or geometrically defined space... linguistically, through writing." Poetics, where the poet, through the poem, seeks to make the city a dream he experiences and lives. Indeed, the poet "dreams of the city, just as he dreams of a fleeting, mercurial, gelatinous woman (through) the retrospective memory of the dream, as a path to the act of poetic writing, open to questioning, anxiety, and bewilderment."

   ...Based on the above, and in reviewing the cities/capitals that Charbel Baini glorified, we see that he possesses the power to capture the poetics of places with a discerning eye and a fertile imagination, establishing his own creative language by blending the fervour of the poem, in its initial brilliance, with the language of the dreamlike place, in a secondary sense. It is a visual language; whatever he employs overflows with music, fascination, hope, and desire. Here are some details:

   In the poem "Beirut," the poet calls upon it to express its love for him, for distance torments him. He calls upon it to embrace him and rescue him from his wandering, especially since Her face was his constant destination, indeed, she was his poem, ever since he learned to speak: "Beirut, O Beirut, do not hesitate/ Say: I love you... so that my tomorrow may embrace me/ (...) I spent my life like the wind, a wanderer/ But your face was always my destination/ You promised me!... I still await the meeting/ And my soul yearns to embrace the North Star/ (...) Since I learned to speak, you have been my destination/ (...) All cities have lost their address/ Except you, O Beirut, O tattoo of the hand."

   And as for Jerusalem, she is his hope, indeed the healing balm if affliction befalls him... He is enamoured with her, with the Flower of Cities, and suffers in his love the torment of longing...: "Ah, O melody of the pure heart / I am enamoured with you, and in my breast is torment / (...) I have wiped the tears from my cheeks so that / You will not say that I love to weep / I am the son of Jerusalem, who is like me?" "Great people sing my praises."

   And as he comes to Makkah with his heart as his dwelling place, he invites it to make his heart its dwelling place, and he will not leave it, to draw from it some of its sanctity: "...No sooner had I prostrated upon the land of the Chosen One/Truly, life flourished and joy flowed/ (...) Come, dwell, O Qibla, in our hearts/Who said I would distance myself from you, O House of Guidance/No, I will not distance myself, I will remain here."

   As for Damascus, the city of glory and pride, it is for him love and splendour, Damascus of roses and basil. His heart has been attached to it since its existence, and he became one drowning in the sea of its love. May it remain his beautiful dream and the stars that illuminate the darkness of the nights: "O Damascus... I have loved no other homeland/ Whose inhabitants are glories, if they could speak/ (...) You are the white stars in the twilight / Were it not for you, the twilight would not clear/ And the sun is you, Damascus, my country/ Who said that the sun burns?/ The sea is your love, and I am the beloved/ And how often I drowned, and drowning spared me."

   And about Rabat, it was the love of his heart. He extended his hand to it so that this love might be inscribed upon it: "I told her a secret: My eyes might betray me/ This Rabat is the love of a passionate heart/ (...) I loved your name, and the letters are witnesses/ I extended my hand so that you might inscribe it."

   As for Dubai, it was the city he loved and called his homeland, and to it his ships' sails turned: "This emirate is one of our masterpieces/ I loved it, I named it my homeland/ (...) The waves are raging, and I am the sail/ Who else but her do my ships yearn for?/ (...) You are the star, and you are our qibla/ So look upon me, O pearl of cities."

   Green Tunis, he entrusted his heart to it, and so he became Tunisian, to it he belonged, and no lover will love it as our poet loved it: "You are the princess and the desire/ And the throne is my heart... So, sit/ No lover will love you/ Like me... For this my wedding ring."

   And as for Baghdad, it is the poet's beloved, since time immemorial, and it was created only for him. He loved its face, and she wept for his love, a tale told: "Baghdad, you are my beloved, do not be ashamed/ Since existence, you were created, O Baghdad, for me/ I loved your face... and love is a tale/ Like blood, it flowed through my joints/ I will never forget the day I came to you in love/ And my streams danced near the Euphrates/ (...) I believe in a wonderful verse:/ Love is only for the first beloved" (Baghdad).

   And as for Egypt—the mother, where he left his heart—he began to weep for her, and his tears flowed into the Nile: "If the pyramids could speak of pure love/ You would know that my heart did not leave with me/ (...) Here I have poured love into the perfume of a poem/ So revel in love and then be pampered/ (...) All the nightingales in your lands sang/ And the universe listens in all directions The four."

   And about Amman (Jordan), it is the most beautiful name on our poet's lips, its people his people: "...Tell me... I am coming to cities/ I loved... I entrusted them with my values/ I am coming to Amman from my weariness/ Say: Welcome... O jewel of nations."

   As for Mazraat El Chouf—outside the realm of cities/capitals—the cradle of the "Baini family," its verdant lands are his farm, and it is the farm that bestowed upon our poet his family name, thus: "I am in love with the Baini’s forever/ I entrusted to it the sanctity of my soil/ O Mejdlaya... record my joy/ For it alone my hat has never been raised!"

Secondly—in the narrative of panegyric figures:

   In this narrative, which complements the previous one, our poet addresses figures and personalities, distributed across different eras, some still among the living, and others who have passed away... and each of these two groups has its place and role in its environment, leaving a clear mark. From the fighter against French colonialism (Sultan al-Atrash), to the fighter against the Zionist enemy usurping the land of Palestine (the young Ahed Tamimi), to the two activists who dedicated their lives and efforts to raising generations in Australia (the nuns Constance El Bacha and Madeleine Abu Rjeily), to the Lebanese and international philosopher whose book, The Prophet, became like a second gospel (Kahlil Gibran), to the Lebanese writer and philosopher (the poet Said Akl), to the great Iraqi scholar (Father Youssef Jazrawi)... to a constellation of the greatest poets, ancient and modern... from the giant of Arabic poetry of all ages (Abu al-Tayyib al-Mutanabbi), to one of the greatest creative Arab poets (Abdul Wahab al-Bayati), to the last of the giants of classical poetry (Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri), to a poet from the land of the Nile, generations in Sydney have sung their praises. His rhymes (Rifaat Obeid), to an Iraqi poet, who bestowed glory upon the letters (Ahmed Al-Yasiri), and to three patrons of spoken poetry, who excelled in the art of zajal (Mr. George Abu Antoun, Elias Khalil and Antoun Saade), to the genius of Lebanese zajal, in content and angelic voice (Zaghloul Al-Damour) ... and to the literary relative, from Doha “Al-Baini” (Adib Al-Beaini).

   To a select group of artists who have dominated the Arab art scene and rendered invaluable services to authentic and refined art... from the immortal singer, the daughter of Jabal al-Arab (Asmahan), to the revolutionary singer whose songs resonated throughout the Arab world and on stages around the globe (Marcel Khalife), to the brilliant Egyptian musician with a diamond-like touch (Magdi Boulos), and to the Egyptian artist who has excelled in the field of instrumental performance and music (Magdi El-Husseini).

   ... Undoubtedly, delving into the details of each of these figures, who have left indelible marks on the annals of Arab memory in the realms of political struggle, intellectual, literary, poetic, and artistic endeavours, would require filling dozens of pages, a task far beyond the scope of this brief overview. Even a few examples from this narrative would fall short and may not satisfy the thirst for further exploration! Here, we have limited ourselves to a brief introduction, leaving the reader to return to "The Diwan" (collection of poems). For there is a vast difference between one who goes to the sea to drink his fill and one who is content with mere drops that do not quench his thirst!

   ...There is a matter concerning the two aforementioned narratives that we cannot ignore. Some short-sighted critics might categorize them as panegyrics, seeking to diminish their literary value, arguing that this art form developed and flourished in the courts, acquiring a profit-driven character! These critics have failed to grasp the profound existential dimension of the art to which these narratives belong! To glorify a city or capital is to do so from the perspective of its historical, civilizational, and cultural significance. And to glorify a person is not for their own sake, but for the role they played in serving and enriching thought, in serving their homeland and nation, and indeed, in serving all of humanity!

   In expressive discourse... increase our love for your eloquent language!

   "This is how poetry places you in the spaces of this world, gives you the keys to every home, and makes you a note in the rhythm of the universe!"... This is the statement—the testimony—contained in the second letter that the poet Nizar Qabbani sent to his friend Charbel Baini (January 31, 1994), the day after he was honoured (Qabbani's honour, as mentioned earlier) and won the Gibran International Prize. In it, he praised our poet's role, especially his speech at that momentous ceremony. It's worth noting that Nizar had written in his first letter (December 1, 1993), in praise of those honouring him at the same ceremony: "...Arab creators expect their recognition to come from the desert... but it comes from the sea, for the sea knows when to offer pearls, coral, and blue poems."

   As much as these two phrases express gratitude and appreciation for this gesture, they also represent a testament, indeed an acknowledgment, of the importance of the Arab literary movement within the Australian diaspora in general, and a recognition of the role played by Charbel Baini in this movement, at the forefront, thus undisputedly deserving the title of "Poet of Exile"!

   This lofty literary stature that Baini attained was achieved through two paths: through poetry in his Lebanese dialect, and through poetry in classical Arabic. One is left wondering, upon examining his dozens of collections, which was more prominent, not to mention his prose works in the various literary genres he explored. All of this was accomplished with unparalleled patience and perseverance, as if he were carving his poetic mountain with a needle, climbing ever higher until he reached its summit! In this regard, we have no one but his late friend, the engineer Rafiq Ghanoum, who accurately diagnosed our poet's resilience and defiance: "...He does not easily succumb to difficulties. From this, we can also understand the secret of his superiority over others, the secret of his control over matters, and the secret of his constant triumph over all who attack him. He is forthright in his expression, planning for failure as well as success! This is why he has remained successful all this time, while his detractors continue to pant, clinging to his coattails, even for a few fleeting seconds, in vain!"

   Undoubtedly, the success that Al-Baini achieved, especially in the realm of poetry, is due to numerous reasons, among them, indeed foremost, the timeliness of the themes he addressed, which are included in all his collections. He turned to the issues closely tied to the concerns of his homeland and people, to the affairs and anxieties of the nation, and in every one of these matters, he had a significant say—and what a profound contribution it was!

   In addition to this fundamental factor, the expressive discourse into which he poured his meaning had a profound impact on elevating his literary output, both poetry and prose. This output enjoyed a continuous flow, both in exile and in the Arab world, where our poet forged close relationships with leading poets and literary giants in the Arab East. He was—if one may say so—an extraordinary literary ambassador for the Arabs in the Australian diaspora, and his home became a destination for every writer coming to him from the East!

   ...And as we turned our attention to his books, which we have examined, from his collection "I Love You" to his collection "Maniacs," and then to the book by Dr. Bahia Abu Hamad, on the literature of our poet, "Charbel Baini, a beacon of letters"... As we have examined, in these three books, his expressive discourse oscillating between colloquial and classical Arabic, in "Najmat al-Shi'r" (Star of Poetry), which he dedicated to classical Arabic, we will explore the discourse of classical Arabic in terms of its foundations and distinguishing features, which makes him one of the "Nizari poets"—an honour he claims!—for our poet has always looked to his "teacher," indeed one of his great inspirations, who took his hand to guide him on the path of permissible poetry, and was the best example!

...In our examination of Baini's poetic language, the following features stand out:

   Firstly, his language became the womb within which he fortified himself—not out of isolation, but out of fear that elements of corruption might seep in. From its alphabet, he began to weave those creative poems! And since language became his homeland, it represented a shift for him, through a complex and creative process, from language as homeland, to language as womb, to language as generative… and finally to language as poetry!

   …It is that merging between the body of the poem—as an expressive discourse—with all the beauty it contains, and the discourse of meanings, the hidden depths of this living body. Each discourse bestows upon its counterpart its own elements of strength and splendour, so that it is impossible to discern which discourse is superior to its counterpart, and which is dependent upon the other! Thus, in "Star of Poetry," the discourse of meaning and the discourse of form proceed in tandem, side by side, even intertwining, as in most of the collections he composed in classical Arabic, reminiscent of Nizar Qabbani's style!

   ...as evidence of this elevation of meaning, where language and expression align with the highest levels of expression...and all of this from "Star of Poetry" is for us to read and reflect upon! — "It will not be said that the cat has become a lion/ Even if it struts in the skin of a lion/ How many a noble man I thought an example/ Was a wolf behind a locked door/ If you strip a woman's body/ You will not see in it the beauty of the body!" (Star of Poetry).

   - To the successive wisdoms that abound in these three verses, which our poet presents for consideration... to the beauty, ease, and delicacy of expression, as well as the magnificent rhythm of the Madid meter (fa'ilatun fa'ilun fa'ilatun)—a counterpart to the Ramal meter—all of this proves, beyond any doubt, that Al-Baini surpasses himself in meaning, just as he surpasses the poetic language of the most eloquent writers of classical Arabic!

   - As another example, or rather two, in the poems "To My Mother" and "A Mother's Prayer," they are no less expressive and profound in meaning, supported by a captivating language that is the best that can be said about those two situations of a mother grieving the departure of her sons from their homeland, so that the world darkens before her eyes and her soul is shrouded in gloom... to that fluidity that we have often marvelled at, which has become Al-Baini's exclusive trademark! Secondly, in "Star of Poetry," our poet demonstrates a profound mastery of the Arabic language, wielding it with complete control. It is noteworthy that his long period of residence in Australia, spanning fifty-two years to date, has not negatively impacted the purity of his classical Arabic, the quality of his expression, or the strength of his composition. His years of teaching at the "Our Lady of Lebanon School in Sydney" likely kept him in daily contact with his mother tongue and contributed to its development, based on the principle that language is strengthened through practice and consistent use. Furthermore, our poet demonstrates a mastery of prosody, a matter we have highlighted and discussed in detail in our review of his collection "I Love You." He also possesses a deep understanding of rhetoric, eloquence, and figures of speech, resulting in forty-four poems, among his finest works, most of which exude the most refined themes, delicate expressions, and exquisite beauty. Thirdly, our poet's psychological makeup clearly influenced his expressive style. A review of his first poetry collection, "Adolescence" (1968), written when he was seventeen, reveals a "violent" tendency that gripped him, which he unleashed in poems belonging to the genre of erotic, lustful, and even licentious love poetry!

   The writer Michel Houdaid, who wrote the introduction to "Adolescence," observed this characteristic, stating: "In my view, Charbel's poetry remains mere chatter once we strip it of its unbridled, fiery revolutionary fervour!" Houdaid dwelt at length on this erotic tendency in our poet.

   From another perspective, we see that our poet, by adopting the Zgharta character, embodies it through a quick temper and impulsive reactions. This drives him to violent stances, especially in confrontations with corrupt leaders and the political class. Another equally important explanation is that his violence is the cry of the displaced, living under the oppression of exile, an oppression that never leaves him, but rather consumes him daily. All of this—in addition to his Nizar-Esque approach, which manifests in his impulsive and violent stances outside his love poems—is reflected in his language. For language, to a large extent, is imprinted on the state of the soul; indeed, it is its faithful voice.

This poet, if we wish to characterize him, is Nizar-Esque in his approach, a Gibran-Esque in his revolution!

   With all this "Nizar-Gibranian" revolution, our poet—like his mentor Nizar—melts and his language melts with such tenderness that it almost bursts, based on the principle that every situation calls for its own expression. And there are many examples that can be drawn and emulated from this collection!

   Fourthly, regarding the innovative imagery and unprecedented scenes, there is no need to elaborate on the poet's brilliance. He possesses an extraordinary ability to conjure images and expressions uncommon among many poets, indicating a creative imagination available only to those blessed with exceptional clarity of vision and broad culture, enabling him to feel images (that is, to write poetry in images)! It is as if every verse or group of verses in his poetry is a painting, added to the other paintings of the poem, and sometimes we find ourselves before a gallery of harmonious images, arranged side by side, in a scene or scenes of profound expression! In our exploration of this collection of pictorial/scenic creativity, we choose these exemplary examples:

   - “In the hills of Lebanon, I tamed the horizon / After my snows traced my roses” (Star of Poetry) ... The snow is what marks his journey, through the tread of his feet upon it, crossing to his homeland to tame the horizon! And the horizon is metaphorical, impossible to grasp, so how can it be tamed? Ask Charbel Baini and his fellow creative artists, and they will tell you what they do in this regard!

   - Regarding his meeting with Beirut, which he eagerly awaits, let us contemplate this poetic image that transcends the sensory meaning: “My fingers yearn to touch the stars / Will our first rendezvous be in space?” (Beirut)... Does our poet wish to ascend with his beloved to the heavens to arrange this promised meeting, and to be close to the Lote Tree of the Utmost Boundary?! "All cities have lost their address / Except you, Beirut, the tattoo on my hand" (Beirut). Is there a more expressive image that can embody our poet's connection to the capital of his homeland, Beirut, the mother of the world, as he places it like a tattoo on his hand, a constant companion, as irrefutable proof of his love for this city?

   And from this exquisite scene, imbued with "consideration of parallelism"—a form of figurative language—presenting us with a collection of images that complement each other, culminating in the intended and most expressive meaning: "The waves are raging, and I am the sail / Without her, my ships yearn" (Dubai).

   And how beautiful is this image, when Baghdad flows through the poet's veins as he tells us the tale of his love for the capital of Harun al-Rashid—a tale from the realm of legends: "I loved your face... and love is a tale / Like blood flowing through my joints" (Baghdad), etc.

   ...And yet... after all that has been said and all that may yet be said... our poet, Al-Baini, remains one of the guardians of classical Arabic poetry in the Australian diaspora, and one of the staunch defenders of the Arabic language, as well as one of the pillars of the Lebanese vernacular, imbued with its diverse folk traditions! Whether he writes in the vernacular or in classical Arabic, he is a master of both languages. He is a poet of purpose; his poetry is committed and purposeful, without ideology, and he carries it to the very end, bearing the burden of his homeland and his nation! And while he may have reached great heights in his eloquent Arabic, his preservation of his "local" identity—indeed, the bonds that connect him to his homeland, Lebanon, and his people—is a credit to him, not a detriment. For "he who denies his origins has no origins!" The greatest writers are those who have maintained this "national" local identity, even if they spent a significant portion of their lives in foreign lands.

   ...If there is anything that adorns "Star of Poetry" and lends it some splendour, it is the creativity of the visual artist Randa Baini, who designed the cover illustration and, with her beautiful hands, incorporated twelve drawings between the pages of the collection, inspired by both printed and man-made nature. Perhaps the last drawing, according to our humble artistic experience, belongs to the realm of calligraphic art.

   Thus, the collection emerges, purely "visual": poems and illustrations, on a back cover featuring one of the elders of the "Baini’s" community, our poet's mother—may God have mercy on her—overflowing with joy as she shares in the happiness of Charbel, who holds in his hand an Honourary shield, one of the first he received in his triumphant literary career!

**

Footnotes:

* A collection of poems in classical Arabic by the poet Charbel Baini, featuring selected poems from some of his other works. Cover and interior illustrations by the artist Randa Baini. Published in Sydney, Australia, 2020.

[1] - See the book "The Most Beautiful Poems of Charbel Baini" by the late engineer Rafiq Ghanoum, published on Charbel Baini's Facebook page, commemorating the 22nd anniversary of the passing of the poet Nizar Qabbani (accessed May 2, 2020).

[2] - "The Most Beautiful Poems of Charbel Baini," ibid. (published in "Leila" magazine, Sydney, Issue 33, July 1998, and reposted from Charbel Baini's Facebook page - accessed May 2, 2020).

[3] See Huda al-Sabbagh, an interview published in Al-Bairak newspaper (Australia), 1986, issue 4, quoted from the book by Engineer Rafiq Ghanoum, "The Most Beautiful Things Said About Charbel Baini 's Literature."

[4] See Jamil al-Duwayhi, "Lebanese Folk Poetry: An Overview," (Minbar Okaz), (Farah News Online website: accessed May 5, 2020).

[5] Muhammad Ali Shams al-Din, from his review of the book "Prominent Figures of Colloquial Poetry in Lebanon" by Dr. Michel Khalil Juha, entitled "Lebanese Colloquial Poetry There, Where the Fingers of Life Ruffle," (on Shams al-Din's Facebook page, accessed May 6, 2020).

[6] Maroun Abboud, "Colloquial Poetry," Maroun Abboud Publishing House, Beirut, 1960, p. 63 (quoted from the aforementioned page of Muhammad Ali Shams al-Din).

[7] See Lotfi Haddad, "Reflections on Contemporary Arab Diaspora Literature," on the Syrian story website (accessed May 2, 2020).

[8] See "The Most Beautiful Things Said About Charbel Baini's Literature," op. cit.

[9] See Mustapha Helwe, "Zreikian Comparisons Between the Poet of al-Fayha' Saba Zreik and Saba the Grandson," published by the "Poet of al-Fayha' Saba Zreik Cultural Foundation," 2016, p. 95.

[10] See "The Complete Works of the Poet of al-Fayha' Saba Zreik," 1st edition, 2012, no publisher stated, edited by Dr. Saba Qaysar Zreik, Part 2, pp. 96-98.

[11] See Mohamedou Lahbib, “Jikour… A Village That Sprouts from Al-Sayyab’s Wound,” an article on the “Gulf Cultural Forum” website (khaleej.ae), accessed May 6, 2020.

[12] See Mounsef Al-Wahibi, “The Poetics of Glorifying the Rhetoric of Cities,” (Nizwa Magazine website, 2009, De nizwa.com, accessed April 30, 2020).

[13] See the two letters published in Leila Magazine (Australia), Issue 33, July 1998.

[14] See Rafiq Ghanoum, op. cit.

**

Introduction/ Love - Passion from "The Dove's Necklace" to "Love Quintets"

   "Love begins as jest and ends in earnest. Its meanings are too subtle to be described, and its true nature can only be grasped through suffering. (...) Love—may God protect you—is a debilitating ailment, and within it lies its cure, proportionate to the suffering. It is a pleasurable affliction, a desired malady. (...) I knew a young man, an acquaintance, who was consumed by love and entangled in its snares. Longing harmed him, and illness afflicted him. (...) His only plea was for union and possession of the one he loved, despite his great affliction and prolonged sorrow. What then of a sick man who desires nothing?" Has he lost his illness?! (...) And in a similar vein, I say: I relish my affliction in you, my hope / And I will not turn away from you for all time / If I am told to forget her affection / My only answer is the letter "L" and the letter "A".

   These are clear fragments, revolving around the description of love and observing some of its symptoms—both sweet and bitter—presenting the state of a young man who has sunk into the mire of love and become entangled in its web! Despite his wretched condition, as longing overwhelms him and the beloved's abandonment torments him, he prays to God that the era of union may return! It is as if this lover accepts for himself more of the torment of love, so that his beloved becomes his cure, while she is the source of his ailment! And if he is told: You will forget her with time, his answer is rejection!

These are fragments, signed by one of the great early Arab scholars, Ibn Hazm al-Andalusi al-Qurtubi (994-1064 CE). We have extracted these excerpts from his work "The Ring of the Dove," considered one of the most prominent works/sources produced by Arab—and indeed global—thought in approaching the theme of love and passion. It is a veritable encyclopedia, an indispensable resource for anyone seeking to explore love and delve into all its dimensions!

   As Ibn Hazm touches upon the signs of love throughout the thirty chapters of this book, we have selected some of them, not to expand upon the book or review its various opinions, but to benefit from them in our approach to Charbel Baini's thesis of love, and in exploring the paradise of passion and the labyrinths our poet traverses. This will allow our research to be founded on solid principles, possessing profound characteristics relevant to the era of humanity!

   Thus, "The Ring of the Dove" becomes our compass, guiding us in uncovering the issues Baini addresses as he navigates the complexities of love. For five decades, armed with the most lethal weapons of love, and adept at their use!

   In examining the two treatises on love, Ibn Hazm and al-Baini, we will find that the human soul is one, feelings are similar, and the human being, by nature, is inclined to love, the same throughout the ages. Outward appearances may change, but the essence remains; the shells may shift, but the core endures!

Indeed! Love has signs, as the Andalusian scholar observes: "The first is an addiction to gazing, for the eye is the open gateway to the soul, the one that delves into its secrets and reveals its innermost thoughts… Among these signs is the eagerness to go wherever the beloved is, the deliberate act of sitting near them, and the disregard for any serious matter that might lead to separation… And among its signs and manifestations, evident to every discerning eye, are: excessive relaxation in confined spaces and discomfort in spacious ones…" And deliberately touching hands during conversation and touching as much of the visible body as possible, and drinking the remainder of what the beloved left in the vessel (...) We find that lovers, if they are equal in love and it is confirmed between them with great certainty, their estrangement becomes frequent without meaning and their contradiction in speech is deliberate (...) but you will soon see them return to the most beautiful companionship, and the reproach is wasted, and the disagreement falls away (...) and sleeplessness is one of the symptoms of lovers, and poets have described it extensively, and they have said that they are the shepherds of the stars and the describers of the length of the night (...) and among its symptoms are intense anxiety and regret (...) and among its signs is that you see the lover love the family of his beloved (...) and crying is one of the signs of the lover, but they differ in it, some of them have abundant tears (...) and some of them have dry eyes, without tears (...) and in love there is suspicion and accusation of every word from one of them and directing it out of its meaning, This is the origin of reproach among lovers (...) and among its signs is the lover’s consideration for his beloved, and his preservation of everything that happens from him.”.. And regarding the mechanisms of love’s work and its tools - and from Ibn Hazm also - “The four senses are doors to the heart and gateways to the soul. The eye is the most eloquent, the most accurate in its indication, and the most comprehensive in its function… It is as if Ibn Hazm is adopting the theory of knowledge of the Greek philosopher Aristotle, the gist of which is: He who does not perceive cannot understand!

   Turning these fragments, or rather, this exploration of love, into “love quintets,” we find ourselves confronted with a study by our poet that does not deviate from the general framework of what Ibn Hazm presented in “The Ring of the Dove,” with only minor differences. As we gather from some of his “quintets” what points to love—its definition, characteristics, manifestations, and implications—we arrive at the following observations:

   - It was said long ago: “Madness has many forms!” And if love is categorized under madness, then our evidence is that many poets who suffered the affliction of love were known as the mad poets, and the books of Arabic literature are filled with their stories and biographies, their pioneer being Qays ibn… Al-Moulawah, nicknamed Majnun Layla...

   In this context, Charbel Baini does not deviate from this description, as he suffered some of the intoxication and madness of love: “I became certain that love is half-sisters!”... Following a review of the relationship that binds him to his beloved, he declares the death of love, and the distances between them have widened, and his outings and meetings have dissipated, and he no longer mentions her, but rather goes to erase her from his memory! (Quintet: Madness).

And as for that "sisterhood," it can rob the lover of his senses, even render him "stoned," crippling his ability to express himself, so he remains speechless, neither in words nor song, as his beloved's face appears before him: "I want to sing to you... but I can't / My voice has been stolen... Don't laugh at me / When the light of your face shone before me / I couldn't say to you: Good morning / Nor could I sing you a song" (sing it).

   Similar to the state of our poet (God forbid!) is what is said about what can happen to a groom on his wedding night, when his sexual ability is impaired by what the common people call "joy" (or "stoning")! At that point, the only cure is to take him to a sheikh/charlatan to undo his "joy" in exchange for money, so his instincts can return to normal!

   And for the lovers' world to be at its best, the lover (the poet) must prove the baptism of his love, indeed his burning faith, by melting upon the beloved's breast!: "...And I heard your voice say: Oh, my eyes/ The world is ruined without you and me/ The pinnacle of your faith melts upon my breast" (Tawbah).

Love is unparalleled! For a poet to fall asleep in his beloved's warm embrace, her lips poised against his, is a treasure more precious than any gold: "If I were given the choice between all the wealth in the world / And a brief nap in your warm embrace / The money would vanish... You are here / Beside you, I see the sky without colour / Every time your lips devour mine" (You Are Here).

   In such an intimate atmosphere, the beloved becomes, in our poet's eyes, the melody of a song and the tears in his eyes... And outside the alphabet of poetry and love, the beloved is unreadable! "...In poetry, my voice is the melody of a song / And in love, you are the tears in my eyes / And other than that, your words are difficult to read!" (Manliness).

   And there will be no true love, nor will its bonds be strong, unless there is quarrels and resentment between the lovers! And since no language can appease the beloved, the poet has nothing left but kisses to plant on her cheeks—what a wonderful language! "You're upset... and I don't know how to calm you down / In what language on earth can I speak to you? / You don't understand me in Arabic / And I know a little English / So I resorted to kisses to appease you!" (Languages of the Earth).

   And despite all the forms of discord, there will never be a final break, for there is always a return to the beloved, even if the poet hangs himself: "...Okay... just tell me what you want / No matter how far I go... I'll come back to you / So you can hang my heart" (Gallows).

   Faced with this situation, and with pride, the beloved is not surprised by the poet's acceptance of his unfortunate fate. She knows that he means her in everything he expresses in his poetry, and that he has loved no other. To solidify this love, which has taken hold of him, she implores him, in the name of love itself, to enshrine her image in his heart: "I swear by your love... everything you compose/ is wrapped in the letters of my name/ and my image is enshrined within your heart" (she said).

   And if love has its own philosophy regarding time, then life is not measured by the number of years, but by the heartbeat, which alone heralds’ vitality and youth. From here the beloved rejects what our poet has said, as he calls himself "the old man," and calls on him to love her and stop repeating his tiresome "melody": "Don't fall in love with an old man! You told me! / You keep telling me this nonsense?! / I love you.. and life is a heartbeat / Sweet laughs with a love poem / And love me.. and don't expect anything in return" (nonsense).

   On another level, outside the realm of love in its chaste form, and its "practical" translation—kissing, tickling, embracing, and smelling—our poet confronts his beloved with a "convincing" argument: had it not been for the sexual intimacy between her parents, she would never have seen the light of day! "...Love is kissing, tickling, and embracing / And if your father hadn't longed for sex / You would have remained in your mother's womb" (Sex).

    Perhaps declaring love publicly sets things right, since the beloved is the most beautiful thing in his life: "...You have become the most beautiful thing in my life / I am reading it to people... Pray for me / So I may keep reading... And fall in love with you" (Who are you?). Consequently, love fills the poet with joy and happiness, lengthening his life: "Keep laughing so my days may increase / My heart is content with seeing you, joyful / And carpeting the paths with the sweetest flowers" (Keep laughing).

Furthermore, love grants our poet courage, enabling him to approach her without fear whenever he desires, and no one can stop him! "No one can bully me / Whenever I want to see you, I will see you" (Blood-willingness).

   Possessing this courage, coupled with remarkable generosity, the lover (the poet) sacrifices everything precious for his beloved, who remains enthroned upon his chest and beside his heart. How sublime is this: "...Everything is cheap... as long as you are/ upon my chest, beside my heart, my strength/ and I offer you this Eid, my eyes!" (Eid gift).

   And to the eyes, the beloved asks, for she also has his heart and what remains of his life! "How can I please you/ when all happiness is tied to you/ I offer you my eyes... you say:/ I want my heart... dwell within my heart/ and give me what remains of my life." (I want my heart).

   In the midst of his beloved's joy, as the poet playfully pinches her waist, she cries out, "I'm going to die laughing!" He replies, "I tell you: my heart is a coffin for you / Without you, its beats cease!" Thus, she is the one who sets his heartbeats to life, keeping him alive! (Pinch her).

   And as love and faith contend, there is also the debate of love and peace. For corrupt rulers, devoid of conscience and heart, if they had experienced the bliss of love, would not have chosen the path of crime against their people: "...rulers without conscience or heart / If they lived like us in the bliss of love / They would not have committed crimes... nor would they have displaced their children" (The Bliss of Love). For love, in its all-encompassing human dimension, protects its possessor from all transgression!

And another debate, no less important, when the poet's birthplace and his beloved take turns inhabiting his heart, so that they may dwell within it and steal his eyes! And no wonder, for both are light from God cast into his breast! "Magdalene... how will I tell her/ that I have fallen in love with a crazy girl/ who has settled in my heart and stolen my eyes/ This is my village, girl, how beautiful it is/ You and she are light from God" (Magdalene).

   No matter what happens, and no matter how circumstances change, the beloved will remain a major title in his poetry. She will remain inhabiting his imagination, and possessing his heart and feelings. She remains a flower hanging on the door of his house, and whenever he enters it, she appears before his eyes: “Don’t think that the poems will end / And I will no longer sing of your eyes / You will remain with me... however my imagination wanders / And I will draw you as a flower on the door of the house / Every time you pass by... I will gaze at you” (Zahra).

   "Love Quintets," a poetic form, and the place of the collection within Al-Baini's amorous journey! One hundred and fifty-three "quintets," belonging to the art of love poetry, in its two forms: the chaste, imbued with a touch of spirituality, and the sensual, which, at certain points, tends towards lustful desire, albeit not to a high degree!

   As we trace our poet's journey in the art of love poetry and in relation to women, over fifty-two years, three milestones stand out. The first began in 1968 with his "Adolescent," a collection blatant in its sexuality and immersion in eroticism, bordering on obscenity—which is precisely what the poet said: "And the poets - [only] the misguided follow them. Do you not see that in every valley they roam aimlessly, and that they say what they do not do?" (Quran, Surah Ash-Shu'ara: 227)—leading us to the second of these milestones, with his magnificent collection "A Love Symphony." (1989), where there was a noticeable lull in his passionate fervour, accompanied by a marked calm, leading to a leaning towards ascetic mysticism, which added dimensions of sanctity to love and to women!... And ending with the third phase, with "Love Quintets," whose poems were composed between 2018 and 2020. These poems/quintets oscillate between chaste love—as mentioned earlier—and "unrestrained" flirtation, within acceptable limits, while incorporating themes inspired by the era and its achievements, represented by the debate surrounding love and social media (Facebook and WhatsApp), and a deep reflection on the Corona era (ten poems/quintets), whose woes humanity is experiencing, as if we are facing a third world war with a biological dimension!... All of this lends a contemporary relevance to our poet's literary output, a necessary modernity, for literature is a product of its environment. His era interacts with them, keeping pace with them on all levels.

   The writer Michel Hadid, who wrote the introduction to "Adolescence" (third edition, 1987), was able to grasp the defining characteristic of this collection, stating: "The poet explodes with instinct, indulging his violent desires to the point of declaring woman a goddess of arousal, pleasure, and debauchery." He added: "There is no trace of love in 'Adolescence,' only erotic, sweeping, sexually explicit poetry... A teenager writes about his adolescence and his romantic adventures without shame, fear, or hesitation!"

In response to this collection and its contents, critics and social and religious conservatives were quick to condemn it, considering it a dangerous transgression of prevailing social values and a direct threat to the new generation. These critics, unwittingly, promoted this book!

   It should be noted that the writer, Hadid, believes that this style of erotic poetry, which our poet abandoned long ago—nineteen years had passed since the first edition—constitutes an important stage in his long poetic career.

   Despite abandoning this style of poetry, Al-Ba’ini, as far as we know, still yearns for that collection, which he considers his "firstborn!"... He also longs for that vibrant period of his early youth. On July 25, 2018, at the invitation of "Wednesday Gathering," he celebrated the golden jubilee of "Adolescence" (1968-2018). Indicative of this overwhelming longing is the powerful poem he recited at the celebrated event: "...And I'm still living on the memory..." and "Fifty years, oh adolescent, have passed as if..." A dream/ (...)/ Don't laugh at me/ O firstborn of my children" (from the poem "Omar"). And from the poem "Old Man", which was included in the new edition of the collection (2018): "And like a butterfly, he committed suicide by fire/ Old man, O Charbel, you have become an old man!"

   As we pause at the second station, "A Love Symphony"—first published in 1989, though reprinted twice more (2010 and 2016)—Charbel Ba'ayni takes a mystical turn, "climbing towards God," as writer Joseph Bou Melhem says in his introduction to the first edition. He also "pebbles on the strings of the heart, and the veins of the earth woven from the folds of the ribs." In a reflection on this collection, Bou Melhem asks: "Is the ignorance of forty approaching early? Or has poetry completed its first cycle, so that 'A Love Symphony' has come as the first of the coming seasons, just as 'Adolescence' was the first of the past seasons?" Unlike his "adolescent" poems, which followed a single path, dripping with eroticism, our poet, in "A Symphony of Love," "doesn't play on a single string. At times, he is intensely licentious, wildly passionate (...) and at others, he is monastic in his desire, ascetic in his yearning!"

   In observing this particular characteristic of his approach to women—a phenomenon, as we see it, that extends to all his beloveds and throughout his collections—"the most beautiful thing about his poetry is that for him, woman is simply a woman, freed from the gaze of the pre-Islamic man." She is, in his words, "...and for him, woman remains, in his utopian and licentious poems alike, a river of purity and a cascade of emotion. Nay, she is purer than the holy books."

   While al-Baini is credited with distancing himself from the pre-Islamic poets and their imitators regarding women, this characteristic unites him with Ibn Hazm, the enlightened scholar (the two are separated by more than a thousand years!), who declares in the introduction to "The Ring of the Dove" that he will disregard the views of pre-Islamic poets on women: “...and leave me to the noble Bedouin poets of the past, for their path is not our path, and much has been said about them. It is not my way to ride another’s mount nor to adorn myself with borrowed ornaments.”

“Love Quintets” ... When al-Baini Enters the Paradise of Love... and its Labyrinths!

   In our exploration of “Love Quintets,” we have been careful to review all the quintets and to draw upon a large number of them, thus lending our perspective authenticity. We have not overlooked any “non-tedious” detail that might serve the approach we are pursuing.

    In grasping the most important themes that mark our poet's path, we find that by entering the world of his beloved woman, he entered the lush paradise of this realm, just as he ventured into its labyrinths. He began to Savour the sweetness of those paradises and to drink the bitterness of the labyrinths! His path was strewn with the most beautiful and fragrant roses, but beneath the roses lay thorns... indeed, beneath his paradise lay a clamour of pain, tears, anxiety, and obsessions!

As we leave this theme/compass and delve into its implications, we pause at the following points:

A- Confessing and Publicly Declaring Love!

   "Perhaps one of the reasons for revealing (that is, revealing love) is the overwhelming power of love and the triumph of open declaration over modesty (...) and this is one of the ultimate aims of love and its strongest hold on reason."

   This is what Ibn Hazm concluded regarding the challenge faced by the lover in declaring his love, and in his beloved declaring this love. To support his view, Ibn Hazm added that he had read in some accounts of the Bedouin that "their women are not convinced or believe in a lover's love for them until he becomes famous, reveals his love, and openly proclaims and praises them."

   Thus, Charbel Baini faced this challenge, and he fearlessly declared his love openly, paying no heed to his beloved's family if they stood in the way of their love, especially the strict mother! He sends a message to the mother, via her daughter, making it abundantly clear that he will not renounce his love for her, and that she can "pave the world up" (a reference to a popular Egyptian song): "...She doesn't know my love for her, really/ Tell her I won't renounce her/ She can pave the whole world up" (Anger).

This "obsessive" mother—if you will—poses a formidable obstacle to his love, for she is always by her daughter's side when he meets her, thus depriving our poet of a kiss and a hug: "One of you put the chair next to you/ (...) Your mother is always sitting next to you/ And how am I supposed to kiss you and hug you?" (A reference to a popular Egyptian song).

   In an unfriendly stance, this stubborn mother, who stands in the way of their love, obstructing its path, calls on her to submit to him and sell him her "silence": "I need to see the smile on your face / And for your mother to be pleased and silent / Your mother is standing in your way" (your mother).

   In blatant defiance, he urges his beloved not to fear people, for he desires to kiss her in broad daylight, just as he desires to drink the wine of her saliva, so that she may pour him a thousand cups! "Turn on the light, don't be afraid of people / In the light, your mouth longs to be kissed / You are mine, and whatever happens, happens!" (Your saliva is wine).

   He also began urging his beloved not to fear the blame of any critic in matters of love: "You stood with me in front of the house door / And didn't invite me for a drop of water / You were afraid of what people would say... I was poisoned by your words / And from your fear, for no reason, I went mad / I will cut out the tongues of the people of the neighbourhood" (fear)... So, by exposing her to that fear that befell her, the fear of being slandered by the people of the neighbourhood, and the threat of cutting out their tongues... all of that constitutes an invitation for her to cast aside her fear, so that she might hasten to declare her love for him!

   In this vein, our poet calls for raising one's voice, abandoning shyness, and not running away from her love. He secretly embraces her waist, even urging her to remain natural, for no matter how hard she tries to conceal it, her love will be exposed sooner or later: "Why do you whisper among people? / And shy away from touch? / My hand secretly embraces your waist. / Don't pretend... your secret will be revealed. / A small lie can't hide the sun." (Don't pretend).

   In a decisive moment, he calls upon her to declare her love for him in a manner akin to a confession, and to follow it with a prayer for his long life and happiness: "Say: I love him, I desire him. / May God increase his happiness. / Lucky is the young man you love." (Lucky).

   In the same vein, the beloved is expected to be even more open in expressing her love than our poet. He rejoices when she whispers in his ear that he is the soul's beloved: "You Walk... and I walk with you / You whisper to me... I hear you: / You are the soul's beloved" (Soul's Beloved).

   Through a blatant display of narcissism, our poet asks his beloved to close her eyes, to dream and murmur, offering her life for him, praying that God protects and preserves him, and declaring that the world has no meaning without him!: "Close your eyes... so I can see you asleep / Dreaming and murmuring: My soul is yours / May God protect you, O Sharbel, fasting / And your love in my heart is an eternal joy / What is the world, tell me, if it were without you?" (Fasting). And to add to those situations, where the beloved openly declares her love, where happiness exists only by his side, and where she is completely immersed in him, let us hear her eulogized: "And you said: All happiness is in you / Oh, beloved of my heart, who is like you / And you drown in me at your leisure" (Beloved of my heart).

B- In the colours of suffering... and the pangs of longing! 

   (Glory be to Him, the Most High)... the Subduer who subdued men with their love (i.e., the love of women), and to them they submit (i.e., surrender) and rely (i.e., depend) (...) the Humiliator, who humbled the hearts of lovers with separation (departure), and burned their livers with the fire of longing, and decreed upon them humiliation, degradation, and wretchedness through their submission in yearning for union.

It is suffering, in its various forms and symptoms, perhaps the most burdensome for the lover, and it occupies the largest space in his expression! Thus, like all poets who suffered greatly in their relationships with their beloveds, our poet dedicates about twenty "quintets" to the matter, expressing his pain as a result of the beloved's tyranny, manifested in inappropriate behaviour... or resorting to abandoning him, or leaving for another country, or returning to where she came from... all of these Misery enters his heart, making him prey to anxieties and doubts!

   Perhaps at the root of his suffering lies that separation between them, for the poet cannot meet her, and thus endures the burning pangs of longing! He tried in vain: he wrote poetry, but it was useless!

   He went mad, breaking his pen and throwing it as bait to the fire, and began burning his papers: "Is it possible that we will remain like this / Without meeting... And with burning hearts?" (I'm going mad).

As his beloved departs for another land, separated by the sea, the poet grieves her departure, wishing he could reach her, throw himself at her door, and offer her his arm to sleep upon! But alas, he fears the treachery of the sea: "If only I could reach you / And lay down at your door the heap of my years / So you could sleep "On my arm and spread your arm / (..) But the sea is treacherous, I can't bear it" (I wish).

   And if separation from one's home, or distance, according to Ibn Hazm, is what "made poets weep over the ruins, (they) shed tears over the traces, and watered the dwellings with the water of longing, and remembered what had passed for them there, so they wailed and lamented, and the ruins revived the buried longing of their hearts, so they mourned and wept"... and in the face of this wretched reality, it was inevitable that it would lead to illness, emaciation, and weakness, and perhaps that would confine him to his sickbed.

   In this vein, our poet longs to bring his beloved back from her journey. She left behind a photograph of them together, and he lives on the memory, yearning for her presence that haunts him. If he were to see her again, he would ask her what she desires, renewing their past vows: "If only I could bring you back from your travels / And tell you: Just tell me what you want / So I can revive the forgotten image" (Image).

   As his beloved travels, heading for Beirut, darkness descends upon Sydney. The photograph she left behind seems to grieve for him, believing he will perish! Despite this suffering, his beloved remains in his thoughts, and Beirut, which holds her, resides in his heart: "Sydney has gone dark, and the houses are shrouded in gloom / (...) In my eyes, you are... and in my heart, Beirut" (Beirut).

With his beloved's departure to the ends of the earth, the rose she left behind withered, its fragrance fading, its colour lost: "I have no rose left to smell" (Perfume).

   Regarding separation, longing, and the pain they inflict, our poet expresses his yearning for her mouth, her eyes, her cheeks, her ears... and, encompassing all her senses: "Hands that became companions to mine," and cries out, "Believe me, separation is unbearable" (Farewell).

   In another realm of suffering, the poet reveals his anguish, having become like a guard at the honey jars, yet deprived of tasting them! "Oh, my bee, my heart is broken / Standing guard at the honey jars / And deprived of tasting your honey" (Bee). In one scene of this suffering, having passed sixty, he retreated into the "ignorance" of this stage of life, but solitude offered him no solace. He was also shocked by the words of some women, words of pity that reopened the wounds of his pain, leaving him with no choice but to grit his teeth: "I try to recapture a little of my youth / I hear: The poor man has grown old / I dye my Gray hair... and swallow the knife" (The Ignorance of Sixty).

   How our poet grieves, seeing Gray hair encroaching upon his head, while the night draws its darkness from the hair of his beloved! How could he find peace, seeing spring blossom in her life while autumn withers his own? But he quickly recovers, reassuring his beloved that, despite his old age, he is still capable of supporting a mountain (see the quintet: Spring).

   In a display of disparagement of his poetic talent, he was deeply hurt by a woman, the very woman for whom he had written the most beautiful songs: "Your words have hurt me so much, so-and-so / You said I'm a poet and a poet / And my poetry is always messed up and broken / And I'm still speechless" (so-and-so).

   Like Jesus Christ—and pardon the comparison! —our poet traverses the Calvary of love, hoping to achieve his desire, only to find his beautiful beloved searing his heart and intensifying its flames! And with sadistic gloating: "And you rejoice in the sighs of my groans / And you leave me crucified on the path" (crucified).

   Our poet is pained and saddened by his beloved's lies, for she breaks promises and claims, even swears by his life, that she has forgotten, while in reality she is feigning forgetfulness and ignoring him! "I waited for you with coffee, a Chinese friend / You swore by my life: you forgot the appointment / Don't swear to me... and don't love me / Your lies are making me cry" (Don't swear).

   Based on the principle that "the worst calamity is that which makes you laugh!", the lovesick lover might resort to light-hearted actions, such as spending his day or part of his night lurking beneath his beloved's window or within a few meters of her house, hoping she might appear so he can catch a glimpse or a wink! Thus, our poet was not spared from these practices. Like a small child, he waits for her, blocking her path: "I'm wasting my day waiting for a glimpse of you / Waiting on your path like a small child." And he does this because "I'm afraid that after you, my fire will be extinguished / And my flowers will wither with time" (Waiting).

   In a similar scene, he stands beneath her window, "standing tall," hoping she will open her closed window so they can exchange glances: "How can I glimpse you, tell me / When your window is closed, you fool? / Go open the window and wait / For a sign to come to you, telling you that I'm / Standing tall beneath your window" (Sign).

   Comment: When we and our peers embarked on the path of love, and suffered what we suffered from rejection, we exhibited childish behaviour. The well-known phrase, "Oh, how humiliating love is!" often echoed in our minds. Some who had gone through this experience even repeated an even more mocking phrase: "You who are afflicted with love, spit on yourself!"

C- In complaining... "Her nature is treachery!"

   In parallel with our poet's suffering, and the anguish and burning pain of longing he endures, it is natural that he constantly complains about his beloved, who does not Honour the covenant of love, resorting to inappropriate behaviour that sows doubt in his heart and stirs up his anxieties! From the five-line poem "Khayyal" (Hunter), he goes on to say that she turns away from him, paying him no attention—he, the very horseman standing before her, "Sinka Taq!"—but rather she turns to another, which intensifies his pain, showering the new lover with a flood of laughter and smiles: "And a horseman stands beside you, tall and strong / For your sake, he makes his horses dance / And you, for another, shed your laughter!"

And how it pains our poet when he tries to kiss her, only to be turned away, leaving him without even a glance, attributing it to her coquettishness and flirtatiousness, but deep down he knows that this is not the case: "I tried to kiss you... but you refused / My heart tells me: The girl is coquettish / I lied to myself when you walked away / And without even looking up, you turned your back" (Qahharah).

And when her love kills him and makes him lose his mind, it is because she left him alone, drowning in his worries! His view of her has changed. He used to see her as a sun above the clouds, and a beauty queen, crowned by the stars, but today he sees her as a lying girl, because of what she did: “I used to see you as a sun above the clouds / A beauty queen crowned with stars / Now I see you as a lying girl” (Luck).

   In his characteristic lament, the poet elevates his beloved's actions to the level of a crime! He showered her with bouquets of flowers as an expression of his overwhelming love, yet she failed to reciprocate. Instead, she burned the poems he wrote for her and discarded the flowers he offered, leaving them to wither... as if her thirst for betrayal hadn't been quenched! "I sang your praises so much... you didn't even ask / I scattered heaps of flowers before you / The greatest crime of love you committed / You burned the poems and withered the flowers / And your days of treachery never ceased" (Crime).

Another aspect of her betrayal was her escape from him, abandoning his loving heart and the bosom that had always sheltered her! "Why did you run away from me / And I see you as a treacherous girl / You left my heart, my bosom, and paradise / And all your concern was to distance yourself from me" (Distance). All these reprehensible behaviours she commits, from treachery and lying to jumping from one young man's arms to another, she wouldn't do them if, according to the poet, she didn't have a heart as hard as stone!

   While condemning her shameful actions, he advises her to abandon them, for she will not achieve her goal, meaning that the path to marriage will not be paved for her: "Oh, cruel one... if you had a heart / Your heart would have guided you to your loved ones / From one young man you jump to another / Don't think this path will lead you there / You won't reach your destination... and your door will never open" (Oh, cruel one).

   And since she appears as hard as stone, with no warmth to stir her feelings, and no response to anyone who tries to please her, even if it were God, our poet concludes that anyone who falls for her is truly insane! It's as if he's condemning their failed love affair: "He's madly in love with you / Like a rock, he longs to find you / No warmth stirs his feelings / And how can this man please you? / By God, it's difficult to please you" (Majnoon).

D- In the raging doubts... and the deadly jealousy!

   Our poet wouldn't have fallen into the abyss of torment... nor would he have approached the brink of madness were it not for those doubts that tormented him, and the jealousy that consumed him!

Thus, he became prey to obsessive thoughts, assailing him from every direction!

   And our poet wouldn't hide his "morbid" jealousy. He confesses that he's jealous of her laughter, of the ring of her cell phone, of her walk and her shadow, of her clothes that cling to her entire body... making him imagine that these clothes are kissing her! "I'm jealous, yes, I'm jealous, I'm telling you / of your laughter.. of the ring of the mobile phone / of the walk that your shadow follows / of the fabric that I kiss all of you / and I'm standing in front of you; I don't have the strength" (I'm jealous).

   When he asks her about her delay or procrastination in making a decisive decision about their official commitment (marriage), something he has been waiting for so long, this procrastination arouses his suspicion. Perhaps she is preoccupied with a new love? And if that is true, he will unleash his fury and sweep her away from this world! "I've been waiting for you for so long... Tell me/ What's keeping you? I swear to God/ If you're preoccupied with a new love/ I'll go crazy... I'll unleash my fury/ To sweep you away from this whole world!" (Tell me).

   As the poet grapples with the delusion of losing his beloved, he invokes Adam, the father of humanity, who was expelled from Paradise for Eve's sake. Adam, in this analogy, would have stolen his beloved had he entered her orchard and seen her bosom adorned with pomegranates and cherries: "If Adam rejoiced in his apple / And for Eve's sake, he left Paradise / What would have befallen him had he entered an orchard / Where cherry adorned breast of pomegranates? / Surely, my soul, he would steal you from me!" (Adam).

   Our poet continues his reverie, inquiring of his "beloved" about his place among lovers, asking her if any of them had stolen her heart! What reinforces this obsession is that she has been lying to him for five years... and yet, despite this, he still longs to hear the words "I love you" from her lips! "Tell me my number among lovers / And tell me if someone else stole your heart / I don't feel your love... just guessing / You've been lying to me for five years / I want to hear the words 'I love you' again" (number).

And how consumed by jealousy our poet becomes when he learns—through his beloved's brother—that the mother has chosen a groom for her daughter! If the news is true, he will go mad, he will even go so far as to hang the prospective groom to remove him from the path of his love, and then all hell will break loose! "You have a new groom... your mother loves him/ And your brother said that in front of me/ I'm going crazy... I'm going to hang him by the neck/ After me, the world will end" (Qiyamah).

And among the scenes of that jealousy is what people gossip about her friendship with someone, paving the way for him to take advantage of her! And they warn her that this supposed groom will leave her, leaving wounds in her heart! "What is this talk about you? / Your name is on everyone's lips/ You were with him... they said: and your smile is bright/ After he takes the honey from you/ He will leave you with a wounded heart" (Majruha).

   Our poet's condition worsened, and he began to be jealous of his own condition, which indicates - as we mentioned earlier - a pathological condition in him! Instead of being overwhelmed with happiness and his beloved, he is burning with the fire of jealousy! Ironically, he sees this as the most beautiful torment! “I wake up in the morning to write poems / I see you, my soul, a shining sun / And I become jealous of my own condition / And instead of happiness, I burn with fire / The most beautiful torment I live every day” (Torment).

   It would have been easier if our poet's jealousy had remained within certain limits, but it crossed the line into a dark vision, to the point where he hated the world and its people, seeing only evil in humanity: "I'm ashamed to reveal secrets:/ Because of how much people loved you/ And said: Princess, and your crown is royal/ I hated the world... I saw people as evil" (Secrets).

   In an escalation of this pathological state, if the poet were ever to discover that another man occupies her heart, he would immediately commit suicide! "I run after you... You always reject me/ I will kill myself if I ever find out/ That another man lives in your heart" (Another Man).

   If anxieties were to plague our poet, dedicating the most expansive space to them in his "Poems of Jealousy," he would devote two quintets to his beloved, in which she expresses a degree of resentment and suspicion, though not to the same extent as his own.

   In the quintet "Scandal," she reproaches him for not answering her phone call, and he excuses himself by claiming his cell phone malfunctioned. Her resentment is unwarranted, for he has always been the ever-responsive "soldier" when she calls out to him: "My phone isn't working / And you're upset with me over a scent / All my life I've been a soldier for your presence / Be my support, my girl, in my suffering."

   And in the second quintet, "Cruel," he implores her not to be harsh with him should he ever think of other women! So, if he looks at a woman, he says, he sees nothing but her dress, concealing her body from his sight: "I swear, if she glances a little / In a dress that passes by my eyes / I hide the woman... and reveal only the dress."

E- The love of women in their various manifestations... and the touch of erotic lust

   In the poem "Now," written on the occasion of the golden jubilee of "Adolescent" (2018), our poet indicates that some people, who commit adultery in the name of religion, did not like this collection because of its bold themes, belonging to the realm of erotic poetry!

In the face of these "schizophrenics," Al-Baini, in his sixties, declares his embrace of "adolescence," even his fatherhood of it, adding that his feelings remain the same as in his early youth: "And now that I've grown up, my book/ You wear gold in your fifty years/ There are people who didn't love you... a fraud/ Secretly committing adultery in the name of religion/ They said: talk... not to be spoken in the forest/ They said: sex breeds demons/ This was my feeling in the bloom of my youth/ And it's still my feeling in the Gray hair of sixty."

   The question remains, after this decisive embrace of "adolescence," as we approach "The Quintet of Love": Is Charbel Al-Baini still inclined towards the erotic, romantic style, in its sexually suggestive form? Or has his poetry undergone a radical transformation regarding women?

   This is what we will explore through a selection of his quintets, comparing them with some of his poems—examples—from My two collections, “Adolescence” and “A Love Symphony,” are three collections, separated by time from each other, and they constitute stations/landmarks of his romantic poetic journey.

   In a poem from his "Quintets," titled "You Are Here," there is a sensual touch, as the poet drifts into a brief nap in his beloved's warm embrace, and her lips devour his: "If I were given the choice between all the wealth in the world / And a little nap in your warm embrace / The wealth would vanish... You are here / Beside you, I see the sky without colour / Every time your lips devour mine!"

   In our poet's definition of love, he doesn't absolve it of its physical nature: embraces, kisses, tickles, and hugs: "Love isn't about fighting and strangling / So you fight me every time I hug you / Love is kisses, tickles, and hugs" (sexual).

   In a recounting of one of the passionate nights of lovers, our poet calls upon the bed and mattress as witnesses to that night! "Do you remember what we did that night? / Don't be shy... all humans have done it / On the bed, we recorded our deeds / And the mattress grew tired from our swaying / And my body couldn't bear the weight of yours" (Don't be shy).

   And when we turn to "adolescence" to witness the "broken bed," we see a vast difference between a bed tired from the lovers' swaying in "fives" and a bed whose "bones" have been broken from excessive pulling and shaking, to the rhythm of sighs that filled the atmosphere of the erotic "operating" room! All of this in the face of a firm chest, untouched by sagging, and a body that marble envies!: "Your chest... hard and stony/ Your body is sweeter than marble/ I remember a night in October/ We drank more pleasure/ Snow... and we were cold/ We were missing the red embers/ (...)/ We filled the room with sighs/ Poor bed, it broke/ And the more our desire increases/ The game becomes more dangerous!"

   To further illustrate the comparison, and from the series "Beds, Beds, and Dark Rooms," here is a scene where the lover reaches orgasm, the highest degree of arousal, the arousal of her sexual desire, and asks her beloved to extinguish it with a gush of his semen! "Take me to a dark room / To her bed so we can lie down / My body is ablaze... my blood is boiling / Hurry, sprinkle me with your water / My cheek is a flame, my neck is burning / My heart is pierced by an arrow of desire / And on the path of my body, no one has passed / But you... Don't turn me away" (Poem: My Body is Ablaze).

   In a charmingly sensual scene from "Love Quintets," which begins with some of the foods the poet enjoys, there is a transition to a different and unfamiliar kind of food, or rather drink: the beloved's saliva, which he will only drink if it is hot!: "All cooking, my sweet, I love / Mujaddara, beans, stew / And your saliva, if it's on my table, I'll pour it / Like sweat, I'll gulp it down and drink it / On the condition that it remains hot!" (Cooking).

   In the midst of our poet's weariness, yearning for his beloved's bosom to rest upon, he calls to her, and she responds, provided this transgression is permissible: "Meet me today in the square this evening / I have much to desire for your cheeks / I need rest on your breast / She said to me: But I will speak frankly / I don't want this to be a sin" (Meet me).

   And in a scene from the "Love Quintet," of considerable weight, the beloved is on the verge of surrendering to her desire, indeed, on the threshold of a completed sexual act. Let us listen to her words as she begins by questioning the meaning of instinct. "By your Lord, tell me: what does instinct mean? / And why is the body sweating and happy? / If you kiss my mouth, my dear / Like a lie, it ignites fires / And the dress falls off on its own!" (Instinct).

I   n a polite description of lips, a traditional description, comparing them to red roses – and always from the "five-line love poems" – our poet laments that he will not have this beloved, "reserved" for another: "I tried to steal a kiss / from lips more beautiful than a red rose / You refused, you screamed, and I learned my lesson / Your wedding, alas, it didn't turn out to be my wedding / I'm sure I arrived too late" (Kiss).

   (Kiss) In one scene from his five-line poems, which doesn't stray far from the established norms between lovers, and which reveals a sensual hunger, our poet kisses his beloved's hands, waiting for her guests so he can devour her (metaphorically!) piece by piece: "And I'll kiss the jasmine on your palms / And wait until you bid farewell to your guests / So I can eat you piece by piece" (Feeling).

In another scene, of the same "type," characterized by a sensual gentleness—if one may call it that—he kisses her between her eyes, refusing to lie with her without her consent!: "From a kiss on your eyes, I'll be dizzy / How would it be if I didn't attack your lips / (...) And without her consent, I won't lie with your blanket" (Foukh).

   Between "Adolescence" (1968) and "Love Quintets," whose poems belong to the last three years (2018-2019-2020), there was a journey that consumed more than five decades of our poet's life, indeed a journey in the struggle of women and the world of women, with all its beauties and torments, alongside various other worlds. Thus, it was creativity, as we have reiterated in places in his collections that we have examined... creativity in his classical poetry and in his colloquial poetry, alike!

   While the authors of the introductions to his two collections, "Adolescence" and "A Love Symphony," have argued that a dramatic shift occurred in al-Baini's love poetry, and that he declared a sincere repentance, vowing never to return to eroticism, we do not entirely agree. Their assessment might be valid only for his work up to the end of the 1980s, specifically with "A Love Symphony" (1989). This period can be extended by a few years, as we have discerned, through his "Love Quintets," a kind of erotic "awakening"—one we hesitate to call the "ignorance of the sixties"! The texts we have examined still retain some characteristics and features of "Adolescence," even as we acknowledge the waning of much of the fervent passion that fueled our poet in his early youth. This transformation can be attributed to the maturity our poet has attained after a long period of experience, not to mention his current age, which is quite different from what he expressed in his twenties! Time is the best teacher, the best restraint on human excesses, and the best guide to moderation and away from extremism!

   Despite our reservations about the nature of the shift in our poet's love poetry, we agree with the critic Bou Melhem, who believes that Al-Baini's love poems in "A Love Symphony" oscillate between licentiousness and Sufi puritanism. We can cite examples from the "Sufi style" to truly understand this new lyrical approach, which added a distinctive touch to the art of love poetry in our poet's work:

   From the poem "Four Scenes," we find an echo of the Quran's philosophy of creation: "And I did not create the jinn and mankind except to worship Me" (Surat Adh-Dhariyat: 56). Our poet and his beloved want to "fabricate" humanity so that they may worship God, thus linking love and creation: "Your love will remain until the colour fades / And the eyes of all humanity will wither / And nothing will remain but you and me in this universe / We will fabricate humanity... to worship God."

   And from the poem "Your Love Is More Ancient Than My Days," where the church (a place of worship) and incense are present, suggesting the purity of love: "Hide your face from my eyes / You burned me... you burned me with your light / I try to escape you... but I can't / Escape the scent of your incense / Oh church in a forgotten village / In times of hardship, I return to visit you."

   And this hymn, from "A Love Song," which intertwines God and love: "Don't forbid me to love / Don't darken my heart / Love is the most beautiful path / And God is love" (Don't forbid me to love).

   From "A Love Song," and in the opposite direction, we pause at one example, where a subtle form of erotic poetry is present: "My castle is your clothes / The meadows have blossomed / And the fire has burned me / And melted on my chest, swirling / You imprisoned me in the cold / Since the hour of your absence / Let my hands sway / Like the raging winds / On the threshing floor of your youth" (Embody Me).

And—the beloved… as the poet desires her… always through his mirror!

   Whether our poet's beloved is real or imagined, he was demanding in drawing an image of her, one that oscillates between reality and fantasy! Such are poets, in every time and place! He touched upon the qualities she embodies, inspired by his own vision. Thus, through a few "quintets," he arrived at the following characteristics:

   Our poet yearns for a beloved who is ever-present before his eyes, adorning them with her beautiful presence and her laughter that brings joy to his heart—a laughter that inspires optimism, his most precious possession. It sustains laughter until his nights blossom: "Every day I must see you before me / And adorn my eyes with your presence always / The smile on your lips alone is my treasure / Keep laughing so my nights may blossom" (Your laughter).

   Our poet, wanting to sing of her eyes, desires that she not wear glasses, which would obscure them from his sight. He justifies this by saying that beauty shouldn't be dimmed by darkness, especially since the color of charcoal doesn't suit his beloved's beauty: "I objected to you wearing glasses / So I could sing of your eyes / It's a shame for beauty to be hidden by darkness / (...) The colour of charcoal doesn't suit you" (glasses).

   How beautiful is the beloved's hair, fluttering in the wind, tracing our poet's verses, touching his body, and kissing his nose on her behalf! "I stand like a pillar, difficult to move / Let the hair kiss my nose!" (Swings).

I   n one of the scenes of seduction, the beloved drives him to madness, flaunting her brown dress, pearl necklace, and blonde hair: "This girl, by God, will drive me crazy / She struts about in her brown dress / And the pearl necklace and the blonde hair" (Brown Dress).

And as her dress billows in the wind, revealing the intimate beauty beneath, he implores her not to lower it so that it may conceal the most precious treasure, which the poet's eyes behold: "Don't lower the dress so that you may protect / The most beautiful treasure my eyes behold" (Judgment Day).

And just as he longs to see her, from a different vantage point, from his own vantage point, he finds himself captivated by her eyes, mesmerized by them, even in a state of trance—if you will. He sits on the ground, drawing her image on the roadside with chalk, a chalk molded with loyalty: "Many have said I've become madly in love with you / And on the ground I sit drawing your eyelids / With blue chalk molded with loyalty" (Blue Chalk).

   He desires her, as we mentioned elsewhere, as that beloved who would sacrifice her life for him, who prays to God to protect him (fasting), who praises Him, for happiness can only be found by his side, and who is immersed in his love, for there is no one like him! (Beloved of the Heart).

   It should be noted that there are several characteristics, which we haven't mentioned, woven into the points that preceded them.

G- In the fading youth... and the failed relationship!

   Age... if it creeps on, and what do you know of creeping age! It is the deadly obsession that seizes all poets, pulling them towards the most wretched stage of life! They strive to escape its Specter, for it mars the happiness in which they once revelled and threatens the collapse of the relationship that binds them to their beloveds!

   Such is the state of our poet, now approaching seventy! He is helpless, unable to repel the young men who constantly flock to his beloved, men of her own generation! How can he remove them from her path—or rather, from his own! —when she winks at them and flirts with them? "I saw you winking at the young men/ and flirting with them... flirting is like a volcano/ and how am I supposed to turn them away from you/ when I'm old... and they're your age?" Thus, he laments his failed relationships with women, "I always fail with women" (failure).

   How much his complex about masculinity torments him, and the train of life is moving on. When his beloved falls into a puddle, he resolves to jump in after her, lecturing her on manhood: "I jumped after you... I said I'd go in/ the water... maybe we'll both get out/ and I'll explain to you the meaning of manhood" (puddle).

   Then his beloved taunts him, mocking him because his hair "slipped"! Then he dismisses her words, resorting to a rather amusing argument: according to him, if she hadn't "slipped," she wouldn't have given birth (!!): "She said: 'Oh Charbel, your hair has become "slipped" / I told her: I wish you hadn't described it / You take the truth in a jumble / (...) and if you hadn't slipped, you wouldn't have given birth!'" (Slipped).

   In an act of self-revelation, in the style of "We got them before they got us," the poet, upon seeing his beloved standing before him, and the fire igniting within him, began to mutter, addressing himself, to be ashamed: "And I just chatted like this to myself: / Shame on you, be ashamed in front of the girl, old man!" (Shame on you, be ashamed).

H- Love... where it defies the "time of Corona"!

   Perhaps what distinguishes Al-Baini’s literary output is its contemporary relevance—as we mentioned earlier—for our poet possesses a modernist mindset, keeping pace with the issues of his time and benefiting from its embodied achievements in the various successive revolutions, particularly in the technological field. Among these revolutions is the communication revolution, which has transformed the world into a small global village. Moreover, our poet observes the various dramatic situations our planet is witnessing on the environmental level, with all its devastating repercussions!

   From this perspective, our poet engages with the coronavirus pandemic currently sweeping across the globe, leaving hundreds of thousands dead and several million infected with this terrifying epidemic… and the situation continues to deteriorate, as the coronavirus count keeps rising!

   Al-Baini does not address the issue from an environmental perspective, nor from a medical one, but rather from the perspective of the romantic sphere within which he “isolates” himself! Thus were ten “quintets” of Corona, which revealed his distress at this plague that stood as a stumbling block in his way to his beloved, and had imprisoned him within the walls of the house! These poems were characterized by humour, for the worst of calamities is that which makes one laugh! No matter how much Corona spreads and how great its danger becomes, it will not be able to keep him away from his beloved, for when he sees the epidemic, she is the cure: “I want to stay away from you. No, I can’t/ You are the cure, O light of my eyes!” (Corona).

   As doubts assail him following the lovers' separation, he fears she will forget him and turn away from his love: "I'm afraid that with so much distance you'll forget me / In this age of Corona... and you won't love me anymore" (How the Beloved Is).

   If Corona has any lesson to offer humanity, it is its call to worship God! It's as if our poet is suggesting that this pandemic is a "wrath" from God, one that should be heeded and considered: "Why has the whole universe become death / Oh, my soul's soul... and we haven't heard the voice / That said: You must worship God" (I'm Forbidden to Meet You). At the height of his anxieties, he fears that his beloved might be struck by the coronavirus, for he imagines it to be a man who revels in the envy of women! Hence, the poet is determined to put a stop to it: "They said: He's very envious of women / (...) / I'm going crazy... I'm coming to stand in his way" (frightened).

   As his beloved weeps, fearing that this accursed "virus" will afflict her, our poet reassures her that this pandemic will pass quickly, and they will return to their days of happiness: "The coronavirus will pass quickly / And I'll see the smile on your face again / (...) And this ill-reputed thing will be gone" (Don't cry).

   Perhaps what troubles our poet most about this coronavirus era is that the mask his beloved wears covers all the beauty of her face! It also pains him that hugging and kissing are no longer permitted due to social distancing! "Your mask... I don't like it anymore / (...) I can no longer hug you and smell you" (mask).

   And since our poet could no longer bear the coronavirus, and came to believe that love was a cure for it, he defied the "instructions" that prohibited contact, so he slept on his beloved's chest, and felt a hunger for her lips! "In the age of coronavirus, love is not forbidden / Perhaps it cures all illness / I slept on your chest... I became restless / I felt a hunger for your lips" (age of coronavirus).

T- Social Media... Love's Disruptors!

   Similar to what we saw in the "coronavirus" issue, our poet approaches social media, especially Facebook and WhatsApp, as disruptions to love, often coming between him and his beloved!

   In the five-part poem "Facebook," the poet accuses the website of stealing his beloved. She corresponds with all her friends, across the globe, and pays no attention to him: "You correspond with friends wherever they are / (...) and I'm all you... and you don't even ask about me."

   And as for the mobile phone, this cursed device! It steals all of his beloved's time, destroys his life and distorts hers, and erases moments of joy from their lives: "It destroyed my life and distorted yours / We used to gossip together and be happy / And wherever we sat, the place was joyful" (Mobile Phone).

At one glance at Facebook and WhatsApp, as she communicates with him through them, accepting this pattern of remote communication, but reluctantly, he calls on her to complete her "favour" by appearing in person, which would alleviate his suspicions: "Appear in front of me.. alleviate my suspicions/ I am lost without seeing you" (I am lost).

   Having thoroughly examined the major themes and key points of Al-Baini’s discourse, both in terms of content and analysis, we find other diverse topics, each addressed in one or two quintets. These range from the theme of coexistence (Eid al-Fitr) and the patriarchy of Eastern society (Tafran), to “Christianity’s” that highlight the religious and faith-based dimension of our poet (Good Friday/Holy Saturday/The Resurrection of Christ), to the Al-Baini family and the poet’s noble lineage (Karamah). While these quintets may seem outside the context of those major themes, they are imbued with the same spirit that characterizes all the quintets! Is not style the man? And is not the man himself Al-Ba’ini Charbel, in everything he writes and expresses?

   In expressive discourse, Al-Baini is the guardian of the Lebanese vernacular and its “encyclopedia!”

By expressive discourse, we do not mean stylistic aspects in their exclusive sense, that is, linguistic correctness and aesthetic expression, important as these are. But we go further, finding ourselves confronted with the diverse contexts into which ideas are poured and the frameworks through which meanings manifest. This leads us to the dialectic of meaning/structure, to the interplay that opens doors, allowing each element to penetrate the sphere of its counterpart. Creativity can only exist through the creative fusion between them!

   Thus, the matter is more complex than some critics believe, those who view meaning as a spirit and style as a body that conceals these meanings!

   In our understanding, both are spirit and body, in a sense, both direct and inverse!

This is how al-Baini's poetic narrative appears to us, whether he is aware of its danger or not! It suffices that we are among those who appreciate and value it highly, as we delve into the heart of the matter! And since the waters belie the "divers of criticism," we have focused on approaching the expressive discourse of the vernacular in our poet's work, which leads us to these points—the landmarks:

A- Al-Baini's Vernacular Narrating Images!

   Almost every one of his five-line poem contains an image, or a scene comprising several images. He feels (i.e., writes poetry) through images, supported by an imagination that oscillates between two dimensions: a sensory, material dimension and a metaphorical, abstract dimension! Here are some examples—witness accounts:

   —In the "Winter" five-line poem, the pillow whispers to our poet, boasting, "I felt the weight of my beloved heads upon it!" "She felt the weight of the dragon on the pillow / and whispered to me: 'Who is like me today! ‘.. So, for the pillow to speak, even in a whisper, falls under the category of personification, whereby the inanimate is brought to life (personification), so that it has a tongue and lips, like humans.

   — Let us reflect on this expression, where the stone speaks, and where the rose of the house is asked to cut its ribs and turn them into stones, with which our poet supports the house he is building for his beloved!: “I will fill your house with flowers / So that all its walls will envy you / O rose that blooms in the house / Cut the ribs and turn them into stones / Perhaps my ribs will strengthen its structure” (Your House).

   Through this example, we do not know which is more magnificent, the meanings or the context in which they are expressed? Or do they both elevate each other, crossing to the pinnacle of creativity?!

— “How skilfully God has drawn you / And from every star He gives you light / The moon now sings of your body / And the flowers throw their fragrance upon your body / So that they all love you” (Your Drawing).

   Thus, the elements of nature move, after God. The moon sings of her form, and the flowers envelop her in their fragrance. All this so that from the poet's hands emerges a nymph from among the houris of Paradise, whom God promised to the believers!

And what of this magnificent scene, where the poet makes his chest a stage for his beloved, and she dances upon it! Not content with that, he desires to ignite her lips for all eternity! And if the embers burn him, he is content, for her fire is his bliss, and how sweet is death at her hands: "And I will ignite your lips for all eternity / And it doesn't matter if I burn in the embers / I am by your side, dying... I will rejoice" (Theatre).

   For the sake of his beloved, for the sake of his love for her, he is ready to perform miracles. He loads the clouds with the world's fragrance to shower upon her. He scatters time and turns back its hands to the past, regaining his youth. He redraws the world map so that his beloved may be near him, for only a sea and a sky separate them: "I send the clouds, I load them with the world's fragrance / And they become youthful / I disrupt the months of the year / And to bring you closer / I redraw this earth" (The Scent of the World). And why the surprise? Is not love the maker of miracles?

   And our poet does not fear the coronavirus, but rather sees it as a cause for healing! He sleeps on his beloved's breast, and healing is written for him! He is overcome with a hunger for his beloved's lips, so she warns him that kissing in the time of Corona is frightening... but he doesn't care: "I slept on your chest... I became a creeping ascent / I felt for your lips, I have a hunger / You said: 'The kiss today, my dear'" (The Corona Era) ... Notice: "I became a creeping ascent"—the act of crawling from the chest to the lips, as if he were driving a car and climbing upwards!

   These images and scenes, which are but a small fraction of his quintets, and there are many more, highlight how difficult it is to draw lines between the meanings and the images into which these meanings are poured... for when you read, you engage all five of your senses due to the power of embodiment that Al-Baini masters!

B- Al-Baini’s Narrative: Innovative Scenery from Another World

   In this realm, despite our poet’s affiliation with Neoclassicism, and even though he opposed, in some of his poetry, the great poets who influenced him—from Nizar Qabbani to Said Akl to Mahmoud Darwish and other innovators—he did not merely regurgitate their meanings. Rather, he resorted to innovative meanings at times, and to traditional meanings, which he “redistributed,” resulting in a new “Baini” style! He drew inspiration from these poets, but he did not follow in their footsteps. Instead, he forged new paths and detours for himself, becoming unique! He sang of Jerusalem, but his Jerusalem is not Said Akl’s. He may hurl curses at Arab rulers, as Qabbani did, but these are “Ba’ini” curses, with their own distinct framework! This characteristic extended to his expressive discourse, resulting in meanings within innovative and unconventional contexts, granting our poet a unique voice, making him an innovator rather than a follower! As evidence of this approach, we will suffice with a few examples from his love poems:

   In the poem "Lake," he gives his beloved the choice to be as she desires, provided she remains by his side. He then confides in her the torment he endures, pouring out tears that fill a lake to the brim! And fearing that the tears might leak from this lake, it needs a "dam," while his eyes need no "dam" to prevent the "enormous" tears from escaping them! What a paradox! "I pass through days of madness / I offer the lake my tears / I find the lake needs a dam."

In the five-line poem "Sabine," our poet intends to launch a night raid on the "Rashdabine" girl he is infatuated with—indeed, she is his guiding light—and he urges her to place a guard at her door at night! The question is: how can an attacker inform his intended targets of his intentions, down to the exact hour? And would a thief warn the occupants of a house he targets that he is coming? This is the crux of the matter in "Sabine," and indeed, the delightful humour that Al-Baini excels at, bringing us the most astonishing things!

   Thus: "Beware, the moon dwells in Rashdabine / And is infatuated with you, daughter of Shannin / Place a guard at the house at night!" If every poet possesses something of prophecy, and the miracles of the prophets, then Al-Baini brings forth miracles if he could, for the sake of his beloved. He transforms the sea into a sheet of paper on which he draws her image! He even transforms it into a garden, and he moves birds in flocks that come and flocks that depart in a successive movement of unparalleled beauty. He waters its flowers with the tears of his eyes: “Perhaps this will bring about a union between you and me!” Just as Al-Baini touched upon the miraculous with ideas that did not come to fruition, he touched upon it, indeed grasped it, through this scene: the quartet of images: drawing on the waves, the transformation of the sea into a garden, the movement of birds in flocks upon flocks, and the watering of flowers with tears from the eye! So what do you say about this scene, with its multiple images, innovative phrase, deep imagination, and dense expression? “If I could draw you on the waves / I would make the sea turn into a garden / And the birds... flocks descend, flocks depart / And I would water your flowers with my tears / Perhaps things would work out between you and me” (Garden).

So as not to delve too deeply into the matter, lest it become tedious, and adhering to Abu Uthman al-Jahiz's assertion that "the ears, if subjected to too many beautiful sounds, will tire of them," we will suffice with these examples and present the readers with some other quintets for their contemplation, following our approach in examining the novel and innovative meanings they contain: (for example, but not limited to: "Mat'oub" / "Elmaz" / "Shu Ta'abak"). C- Al-Baini's colloquial Arabic... fluid... on the verge of song and melody!

   Whoever reads "The Quintet of Love," as well as many of our poet's collections in colloquial Arabic, feels that the words and expressions race ahead, proclaiming themselves! No sooner are they uttered than they "flow" before them, smooth and flowing, like pure, fresh water! They emerge from their hiding places, from their shells, like pearls, overwhelming all the senses with tenderness and sweetness! All of these are elements of the fluidity that His poetry, both classical and colloquial, is renowned for its fluidity, reflecting the very nature of our poet, a soul that resonated in his expressive discourse.

What further reinforces this fluidity in his colloquial poetry is that the majority of his poems, including his five-line stanzas, are suitable for singing and musical composition. This implies an inherent internal music, based on musical rhythm, sometimes facilitated by the adherence of some of them to the classical Arabic meters. How could music not be an active part of his colloquial poetry, when it forms the dividing line between the language of poetry and the language of prose?

   We have selected dozens of his "love stanzas," some of which we present to our readers, so they may experience this poetic fluidity that has become a hallmark of his work. We have explored its dimensions in both his classical and colloquial poetry through five approaches, from "Charbel, in My Eyes, a Beacon of the Letter," to his collections: "I Love You," "Madmen," "Poetry Star," and finally, "Love Quintets"... these five approaches have brilliantly illuminated "Charbel Ba'ini Between Classical and Colloquial Arabic," which will be compiled into a book to be published in Sydney in the coming days, thanks to the efforts of our poet.

   These "quintets" are meant to be read aloud, not whispered, revealing the distinct dimension within them: (Khayal/ Eidiyah/ Tannoura/ Allah Ma'ak/ Ummak/ Ihsas/ Shu Ta'ibak/ Akher Haki/ Al-Jum'ah Al-'Adheem/ 'Aib Istahi, etc.).

Conclusion: The Prince of Colloquial Arabic is unrivalled!

   If, in some of our critical analyses, we have focused on the creative aspect of our poet's colloquial language, it is only because we are convinced that Baini has elevated this language to unprecedented heights, unmatched by any other colloquial poet in the Australian diaspora. And some of His collected poems, in colloquial Arabic, would have been translated into international languages (our example: Ali’s Supplication) were it not for that human characteristic that marks those collections, which escape the confines of places and the limitations of time!

   Add to that the fact that his poetry collections, especially those written in colloquial Arabic, have been reprinted multiple times. For example, "Murahiqa" (Adolescent) has been reprinted eight times, the first in 1968 and the last in 2020; "Majaneen" (Madmen) seven times, the first in 1976 and the last in 2020; "Allah wa Nuqtat Zayt" (God and a Drop of Oil) three times, the first in 1988 and the last in 2016, and so on.

   And as a witness from the literary world testifies, the expatriate lawyer and writer (in Australia), Milad Ishaq, sent him a letter (dated May 7, 2020), in which he stated: "He delved deeply into the pages of poetry and literature, especially Lebanese colloquial poetry, excelling and creating, thus becoming, without a doubt, one of the most important colloquial poets throughout Australia. His home in Sydney has become a pilgrimage site, frequented by lovers of poetry and literature."

   And Al-Baini's colloquial poetry is no longer buried within his collected works, to be read in silence. It was even proclaimed from pulpits, in his own voice and the voices of others, and it extended to the realm of singing and composing! The renowned artist Mirna Nehme recently sang one of his poems, inspired by the "Corona era," accompanied by the Palestinian Folk Arts Ensemble. Among the lyrics of this poem, which has resonated globally, are: "On our sway, on our sway/ We didn't kill anyone... Why did you imprison us? / You ruled this world with a soldier and his rifle/ And the coronavirus made your feet tremble!" It's worth noting that this artist and others have sung numerous poems by Al-Ba'ini, and videos of these performances have circulated widely in Australia and many other Arab and non-Arab countries!

   In an age of cheapness, superficiality, and vulgarity, especially in the realm of poetry, both classical and colloquial... In an age of depravity, where titles are bestowed upon the undeserving, from the likes of "Sha'arir" (plural of "Sha'rur," a diminutive of "Shuway'ir"!) ... In an age of awarding accolades the accolades, from every corner of the earth, are bestowed upon those who call themselves, or are called, poets… In an era where certificates of appreciation are distributed by fictitious associations and forums, multiplying like mushrooms, just as sweets are handed out at weddings and celebrations… In this wretched time, Charbel Baini still clings to his pure poetry, holding fast to his vernacular and elevating it to the highest heavens, like a believer grasping the embers of his faith in an age of disbelief and among disbelievers upon disbelievers!

“Then came Al-Mutanabbi, filling the world and captivating people!” … I beg Ibn Rashiq Al-Qayrawani’s pardon, and I proceed with a comparison, seeking neither reward nor gratitude: “Then came Charbel Ba’ini, filling the world of exile and captivating people!” … Did not Nizar Qabbani say in one of his letters to Charbel Ba’ini—and I have included this in one of my “Baini” analyses—that Charbel Baini had bewildered the continent of Australia!? Yes! He captivated it with his magnificent poetry, captivated it with his prolific output, becoming a veritable "book publishing mill," and captivated it with his constant presence, for he had a "tip" at every intellectual and literary celebration in the Australian diaspora, and beyond!

Footnotes:

* - An approach to this collection of poems, "Love Quintets," by the poet Charbel Baini, published in Sydney (Australia), second edition 2020, cover and interior illustrations by the artist Randa Ba'ini.

- Ibn Hazm, "The Ring of the Dove on Intimacy and Lovers," edited by Ihsan Abbas, published by As-Safir newspaper (Lebanon), in the "Book for All" series, No. 9, Dar Al-Mada for Culture and Publishing, 2002, pp. 11, 6, and 17.

2 - See Ibn Hazm, previous reference, pp. 23-30.

3 - See Ibn Hazm, previous reference, p. 53.

4 - See the introduction to "The Ring of the Dove." Al-Hamama, op. cit., p. 9.

5 - See Ibn Hazm, op. cit., p. 65.

6 - See Ibn Hazm, op. cit., p. 67.

7 - Sheikh al-Nafzawi, Al-Rawd al-'Atir fi Nuzhat al-Khatir, edited by Jamal Juma'a, Riad al-Rayyes Books and Publishing, London, second edition, 1993, p. 24.

8 - See Ibn Hazm, op. cit., pp. 136 and 149.

9 - Taken from Charbel Baini's Facebook page, accessed on 5/18/2020.