Again yesterday, Israel carried out overnight strikes on Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley and the southern province of Tyre, killing at least four people and reducing buildings to craters.

The strikes on southern Lebanon continued, killing a man on a motorcycle in the town of Nabatieh, and killing and wounding people in the town of Chehabiyeh, where the death toll is not yet known.

The bombings marked the latest in a string of violent days in Lebanon. On Friday, Israel's airstrikes resulted in 10 deaths, among them a child and six paramedics, one of whom also served as a photojournalist.

As I mentioned earlier about the poems I am flooded with from my readers about Lebanon, I am sharing a poem today by Khalil Gebran, “You Have Your Lebanon, and I Have Mine” -

Who among them dares to say, “My life was a drop of blood in the veins of Lebanon, a tear in her eyes or a smile upon her lips”?

Those are the children of your Lebanon. They are, in your estimation, great, but insignificant in my estimation.

Let me tell you who the children of my Lebanon are.

They are farmers who would turn the fallow field into a garden and a grove.

They are the shepherds who lead their flocks through the valleys to be fattened for your table meat and your woolens.

They are the vine-pressers who press the grapes to wine and boil it to syrup.

They are the parents who tend the nurseries, the mothers who spin the silken yarn.

They are the husbands who harvest the wheat and the wives who gather the sheaves.

They are the builders, the potters, the weavers, and the bell-casters.

They are the poets who pour their souls into new cups.

They are those who migrate with nothing but courage in their hearts and strength in their arms, but who return with wealth in their hands and a wreath of glory upon their heads.