Long before Ziad Rahbani became the voice of a revolution, before the theaters, the satire, and the midnight jazz – he was just a quiet boy with a battered notebook and a secret obsession.
A Love Letter in Disguise
At 17, Ziad met heartbreak through a British voice
In 1973, Beirut was on edge. The war hadn’t fully arrived yet, but the silence before the storm hung thick in the air. Ziad, then a reserved teenager studying classical piano, stumbled upon a late-night European broadcast on shortwave radio. What played next would leave a mark he never quite spoke of:
“I had the last waltz with you…”
It was Engelbert Humperdinck – the velvet-voiced crooner whose love ballads had already enchanted millions. But to Ziad, “The Last Waltz” wasn’t just another love song. It was a mirror to something unspoken inside him: the fear of losing someone before even daring to love them.
A close friend later revealed that Ziad, shaken by that one listen, stayed up until dawn copying the lyrics into the back of his journal. No commentary. No signature. Just the words. Carefully written, line by line, like a farewell he didn’t yet understand.
The Song That Never Left Him
A quiet tribute hidden between revolutions
Over the decades, Ziad Rahbani became a symbol of bold resistance in Lebanese culture. He spoke loudly through satire, jazz, and protest. Yet, his heart—quiet, fragile, poetic—was shaped by songs like Engelbert’s. That early tenderness never left him.
On July 26, 2025, Ziad passed away. And somewhere in a dusty drawer, perhaps still untouched, lies a notebook with lyrics to “The Last Waltz” — a song from one unexpected fan to another, across oceans and silence.
Suggested Song: “The Last Waltz” – Engelbert Humperdinck
Because sometimes, the songs we never speak of say the most about who we are.