roses a wedding overflowing with blossoms.

It is the wedding of spring, of which the poet of spring, Safi al-Din al-Hilli, spoke in times gone by:

Spring has arrived—so welcome to its coming, to the light of its gladness and the bloom of its roses! The branch has been clothed in fine gauze after the hands of winter had set about stripping it; it has won back youth after gray hairs, and the water of young life runs again in the roots of its wood; and the rose atop the branches is like a king ringed round by the chieftains of his soldiers. Do you not see the delicate ripples, and what shapes and courses of theirs appear before the eye? The clouds hold funerals in the sky while the earth keeps time's wedding and its feast.

Aye, by God, it is the wedding of time—the wedding of youth in full sap. It is the wedding of April, which Fawzi Maalouf sings:

All that is on the earth, all that is in eternity stirs rapture and summons love: the burning of the star, the moaning of the foam, the breath of the blossom and the breathings of the air. Come, then, let us sip the wine of kisses under the shade of the willow; see how branch has twined upon branch— so does my hand twine your waist; and passion in the flower's smiling mouth has sunk down, sipping, as I do, the dark dew-moist lips; and see the star leaning out over the garden, drowsy-lidded.

And al-Buhturi says:

Radiant spring has come to you, strutting and laughing with beauty, till it almost spoke; and Nowruz, in the dusk of darkness, has wakened the first roses, that only yesterday were sleeping.

And al-Raffa says:

Do you not see the roses spring has disclosed after a whole year had passed with them hidden away? They were in green robes, and have cast them off— save for loops and buttons left forgotten.

And al-Hasan ibn Wahb says:

The first days of spring have risen and brought the garden's blossoms tidings of renewal and youth; you see the branches, when the winds moan against each other, entwined like the embracing of lovers.

And how charming is what Baha al-Din Zuhayr says:

Do you not see the mouth of the flowers smiling for joy, and the naked branches now clothed? The clouds have stopped over the hills, bewildered, and the breeze walks the gardens in fetters.

And how splendid is what al-Sharif al-Radi says:

From every night-journeying cloud, whose spray is like needles stitching striped mantles for the gardens;

they scattered their matchless pearls, and the hills strung of those pearls chains and necklaces.

And Lisan al-Din ibn al-Khatib says:

What purer delight can a man attain than when the garden has sheltered him within it, where the flowers seize their opportunities, safe from the guile of fate one guards against? When the water murmurs plaintively with the pebbles, and every friend is alone with his brother, you see the rose, jealous and vexed, wearing whatever its rage may clothe it in, and you see the myrtle, clever and knowing, eavesdropping with the ears of a horse.

And Abu Nuwas says:

Do you not see how the hands of the clouds have embroidered the earth's garments with marvels of sweet herbs— lilies fresh for the plucking, and lavender, and violets, and anemones, like necklaces of ruby strung together with pearl, their centers the choicest beads of gold?

And Shawqi Bey says:

March has come—rise with me, my friend, and hail spring, the garden of souls; gather the companions of wit beneath its banner and spread across its court the carpet of wine; and sit in the laughing garden, clapping your hands to the answering music of strings and cups.

As for the poet Rashid Ayyub al-Houri, known as the Dervish, he welcomed spring as one friend welcomes another, without a trace of ceremony, as though they were two faithful companions who part only to meet again... And it is fitting that I close this piece of mine with two verses from his gilded poem—not because it is the finest that has been said, but because in the whispers of its verses I heard something of sincerity and of love for enchanting nature and for the beautiful, faithful spring that never forgets the gardens and the fields:

Welcome! We have melted with longing, O Spring— O light-spirited one, hail and welcome! Whenever your wondrous face shines out, the earth rises up to rival the stars.