The state of alarm and the confinement caused by the pandemic of the Coronavirus, will prevent us from seeing this year, the annual spectacle of the flowering of the lilies.
As a ritual that is repeated throughout all the springs of our lives, the beginning of good weather welcomes us with the burst and extreme beauty of our beloved and ephemeral dryland tulips.
The lily, despite being an ancient plant introduced to our region, is absolutely rustic. It adapts perfectly to our dry and extreme climate. Today we can still find it planted on the earthen roofs of the dry stone vaulted huts, or on the edge of any building of rural architecture.
The blue or purple lily (Iris germanica) is a perennial plant, belonging to the iridaceae family. They say that Iris’ name is given to her by the Greek goddess of courage. The three inner petals represent faith, wisdom, and courage.
Poets, painters and artists have found in the exultant burst of the lily, the sign and inspiration of their love poems. Ausiàs March writes in one of his “Cants”, the image of the lily among thistles. Below this comparison is the “lily” that is his beloved Teresa, which 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. Centuries later, the Lleida poet Màrius Torres, sang to 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 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 I wrote on a foggy winter day, longing for the arrival of spring:
“Pel pas estret de l’hivern
el cel es desfà en engrunes xopes de boira.
“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 arrived at the Sant Romieg asylum where he was interned, the painter fell in love with the blue lilies of Provence and immortalized them in the painting we reproduce here:
Despite the confinement, with the images that accompany this blog post, we want to take the blue lilies to your home. Admire them with all the love and admiration their beauty deserves.
Jaume Ramon Solé.
