The state of alarm and the confinement caused by the Coronavirus pandemic will prevent us from seeing this year the annual show of the blooming of lilies.


As a ritual that is repeated throughout all the springs of our lives, the beginning of spring welcomes us with the outbreak of life and the extreme beauty of our beloved and short-lived rainfed tulips.



The lily, despite being a plant formerly introduced to our land, is of an absolute rusticity, which is perfectly adapted to our dry and extreme climate. Today, although we can find it planted on the earth ceilings, in the dry stone cabins, or on the edge of any construction of rural architecture.



The blue or purple lily, (Iris germanica) is a perennial plant belonging to the ‘Iridáceas’ family. Some say that the name Iris is given to it by the Greek goddess of courage. The three inner petals represented faith, wisdom, and courage.


Poets, painters and artists have found, in the exultant outbreak of the lily, the sign and inspiration for their love poems. The poet Ausiàs March writes in some of his “Cantos” the image of the lily among thistles. Under this comparison is the “lily” that is her beloved Teresa, who stands out above all other humans, the “thistles”:


“Llir entre cards, los escurçons no morden

ab tan fort mos com és lo de amor:

si bé els morduts no passen tal coissor,

perden lo seny e les vistes eixorben”.


“Llir entre cards, dins mi porte un forn

coent un pa d’una dolça sabor

i aquell mateix sent de gran amargor:

tot açò em pren deu hores en lo jorn”.



Beautiful and magnificent are the verses of the great Ausiàs March, as centuries later the Lleida poet Màrius Torres sang the lilies in his poem Abril, with these verses:


“Lliris morats, prada de trèvol,

núvols de neu, cel matinal.

Fulloles noves s’emmirallen a l’

estany d’aigua verge, benèvol”.



Or the wonderful “Song to Mahalta” of the spring of the tragic March of 1937 when he sings to his beloved:


“Corren les nostres ànimes com dos rius paral.lels.

Fem el mateix camí sota els mateixos cels.

No podem acostar les nostres vides calmes:

entre els dos hi ha una terra de xiprers i de palmes.

En els meandres grocs de lliris, verds de pau,

sento, com si em seguís, el teu batec suau

i escolto la teva aigua, tremolosa i amiga,

de la font a la mar -la nostra pàtria antiga-”



And this last poem that, on a cloudy winter day, I wrote yearning for the arrival of spring:


“Pel pas estret de l’hivern

el cel es desfà en engrunes xopes de boira.


Prenem el ventall i palla seca,

i fem foc per eixugar

la fusta molla de l’ànima.


Som caliu de somnis i d’atzars

d’esclats vermells de roselles

brasa de flames, soques que cremen

en incendis grocs d’argelaga.


Som esclaus silents de la bellesa preuada

de l’amor ocult rere l’espurna de la rialla

som la blanca esperança de la flor del saüc

la memòria lila i intensa dels lliris de secà”.



In the last year of the life of the painter Vincent van Gogh, when spring broke out in the Saint Rémy de Provence asylum, where he was hospitalized, the painter fell in love with the blue lilies of Provence and immortalized them in the painting that here we reproduce:


Lliri, Vincent van Gogh
Photo Painting: The J. Paul Getty Museum.


Despite the confinement, with the images that accompany this blog post, we want to bring the blue lilies inside your home. Observe them with all the love and admiration that their beauty deserves.



Jaume Ramon Solé.

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