It was 1976. Beirut was under siege. Sirens wailed, buildings fell, and silence became the sound of fear. But in one forgotten corner of the city, deep inside a cramped bomb shelter, a quiet rebellion took shape—not with weapons, but with a song.


A Voice From Across the World

Simon & Garfunkel’s anthem found its way to a war zone

A group of university students had salvaged a small battery-powered radio. They were hiding in the basement of a school, surrounded by rubble and uncertainty. And one night, after a long silence, someone turned the knob and the static cleared.

“Hello darkness, my old friend…”

It was The Sound of Silence. No one spoke. No one dared cry. But in that moment, the words of Paul Simon transcended culture, language, and faith. For a few minutes, it felt like the world remembered them. The song became a whisper of dignity in a place stripped of it.


Ziad Rahbani Was There Too

Though he never mentioned it, some say he heard that broadcast

Ziad Rahbani—composer, playwright, and symbol of cultural resistance—was in Beirut that same year. He performed underground plays mocking politics, using satire as survival. Though there is no confirmation, a close friend once said:

“Ziad heard ‘The Sound of Silence’ from a radio one night. He didn’t say much. But he stayed silent longer than usual.”


Now, One Voice Has Gone Silent

Ziad Rahbani passed away on July 26, 2025

His death marks the end of an era. But that night in 1976, when Western folk met Middle Eastern defiance, something timeless was born: a reminder that music can speak when the world refuses to listen.

Sounds Of Silence - The Official Simon & Garfunkel Site


Suggested Song: “The Sound of Silence” – Simon & Garfunkel

Because sometimes, the quietest songs carry the loudest truths.

Lyrics

Hello darkness, my old friendI’ve come to talk with you againBecause a vision softly creepingLeft its seeds while I was sleepingAnd the vision that was planted in my brainStill remainsWithin the sound of silence
In restless dreams I walked aloneNarrow streets of cobblestone‘Neath the halo of a street lampI turned my collar to the cold and dampWhen my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon lightThat split the nightAnd touched the sound of silence
And in the naked light I sawTen thousand people, maybe morePeople talking without speakingPeople hearing without listeningPeople writing songs that voices never shareNo one daredDisturb the sound of silence
“Fools” said I, “You do not knowSilence like a cancer growsHear my words that I might teach youTake my arms that I might reach you”But my words like silent raindrops fellAnd echoed in the wells of silence
And the people bowed and prayedTo the neon god they madeAnd the sign flashed out its warningIn the words that it was forming
And the sign said, “The words of the prophetsAre written on the subway wallsAnd tenement hallsAnd whispered in the sounds of silence”