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Jasmin
Jasmin - الياسمين
Description
Jasmine is a climbing plant appreciated for its delicate, fragrant flowers. Its name is believed to come from Persian.
There are over 200 varieties in Eurasia, Africa and Oceania. Its small flowers, white or yellow depending on the variety, give off an unforgettable fragrance, especially in the evening.
Easy to grow, jasmine is equally at home in the ground or in pots, and is ideal for pergolas, and trellises. Its dense green foliage brings a touch of freshness to the garden all year round. Its famous scent is popular in the perfume industry. Interestingly, most of the jasmine used to make fragrances come from a single village in Egypt.
In Lebanon, as in the rest of the Levant, jasmine grows very well and is part of the cultural landscape widely referenced in music, art and literature.
This garden contains several varieties, including the winter jasmine, which has no fragrance but has the advantage of blooming in winter. The white jasmines in the garden have a touching genealogy: they come from the cuttings of a jasmine plant cherished by the poet's mother, Virginie Naaman, whose home was in Khandak el Ghamik.
Poem
The Jasmine
In the little garden
Of the old house where my father and mother
Sheltered the treasure of an exemplary life,
There was a jasmine, studded with fresh stars.
Morning and evening, they would
Water and tend to it – their only quarrel
Was to decide who would pluck the frail flower first,
To offer it to the other in a shy and loving gesture.
As the seasons passed,
The jasmine would decorate their home,
The local church and the Virgin’s altar
Protecting the peace of the holy house.
My sister, as a young girl
Made necklaces for her first crush
With the many fragile flowers
Blossoming on the innocent plant.
So often their scent
Delighted friends and family
That my parents seemed to express their feelings
Only through flowering jasmine bouquets.
Like their noble hearts, it was inexhaustible…
Alas!…When they died, the perishable plant,
In their deserted garden, almost died!…
*
Sometimes it seems as if they are watching over their plant
That they still water and care for it,
For never has a jasmine, overflowing with devotion
Given more flowers to its neighbours.
Since then, with a heavy heart, I visit the cemetery
To seek the bygone love of my cherished parents;
I question the ground, speak to their graves,
Listening to silence; I hear nothing!
*
And so, one day, I decided to plant on their grave
The jasmine from their garden that in their good home
They both so lovingly watered;
And the blooming jasmine conquered death!
For as soon as I return to them, their silence,
Now full of fragrance and colour,
Is filled with their sweet presence;
I feel them around me – enjoying the scent of the blossoming plant.
Near the cemetery, is a cluster of shacks
Populated by workers, brave and humble;
They all step over the fence to pick
Countless stems from my mother’s jasmine.
Now, when I seek the tenderness
And support of my deceased,
A silent voice in the shadow of the jasmine
Whispers to my sorrow – they are perhaps close!
We are together again, a family,
And thanks to the plant that I transplanted
And that turns their grave into a charming fragrant sanctuary,
My parents seem almost resurrected!
January 1940
Published in La Montagne Parfumée, Éditions de la Revue Phénicienne, 2004.
