upon you save in the measure that they stand for struggle and freedom.

Awake, then! For I have seen the banners fluttering;

I saw them in al-Fayha, radiant, striving toward the stars,

And I saw them upon the Cedars, embracing the eagles...

The sight of them sent a tremor through the soul, and hope into the heart,

And at that I remembered you — so awake!

But let your lips smile, and let your eyes shed tears, O guardian of Yarmouk!

Let your lips smile with joy for fighters who have won freedom...

Set upon their heads wreaths of laurel, for none hallow the struggle but they who struggle;

And let your eyes weep over fighters who received no recompense,

And whisper into their hearts the consolation that the struggle is recompense enough!...

I saw you in the silvery night, like a faithful watchman making the rounds of the reaches of Yarmouk,

And there was nothing more wondrous than your slender figure and your veiled face,

In your poised seat upon the noble white steed...

The solitude around you was clamorous, teeming with the fragrance of the luminous past,

And the silence was deep, brimming with the echo of bygone years.

Everything around you longed for you, and held you sacred:

The lofty, knowing stars spoke to you,

The deep water of the river repeated your story,

And the mountains, firm-rooted, towering like giants, awaited your commands...

And when dawn broke, you vanished with the silent stars into an enchanted cave!

But no! Nothing of all this happened;

You are only a beautiful phantom my imagination wove,

Casting upon it the splendor and majesty of phantoms;

For you sleep in a place I cannot see,

And nothing remains of you but a luminous, hallowed memory

That lives in the depths of our hearts, setting them aflame whenever the roads grow rough before us...

So by God, do not awake, O horsewoman of Yarmouk!

Sleep on in peace and quiet,

Let the glistening dews refresh your ancient resting place,

And let the beautiful flowers perfume your crumbling grave.

Better for you not to awake,

Lest you be terrified by what surrounds Yarmouk today!...

answer, by Mrs. Jihan Aony:

O you young questioner: Tomorrow is very near indeed, so let its forerunners not astonish you. This life is a single leap, from shore to shore, during which the wine of your youth intoxicates you — and then you are that withered old man who prepared himself, and life did not keep faith with him; who filled himself with hopes, and his hopes went astray; who carried his own burden, and stood panting with exhaustion...

O you innocent youngster: Can it be questioning and wonder, when life has kept faith with you — so it claims — in that it brought you forth from its being a human creature from whose skin vitality leaps, whose thoughts are too large for their mold?... Life is two colors, my little one, but it is treacherous besides, for it takes more than it gives.

O you gifted youngster: Tell me, what does your intelligence profit you, and what use is your giftedness? Life takes no account of this and gives shelter to nothing; you are a mote of ash — nay, you are less than that mote. So lighten your concern with life; be not deceived by what you have not seen, or heard, or touched, or what your delicate senses have not felt; and accept what time brings you with the smile of one who knows and is experienced... But is this within your power, when generous human nature is stronger than the powers of beguiling life? By my life, no... Then let this artless nature go on crying through the corners of the inhabited world: Show me! Enlighten me! Whither? And how? And why???

Note: We must also make mention of three other answers, by Mrs. Rawda al-Karsh (Beirut), Miss Afaf (Haifa), and the wife of Bashir Abu Izz al-Din (Beirut).