Jounieh’s Bay was virgin still with water pure and scent

Of brine that filled our lungs and in our hearts was kept.

The fishermen set out to sea, for adventure in their boats,

Love and patience were their stock and nets they marked with floats.

On the beach pure sand we trod that would our footsteps greet

With splashing from the breakers to wash our joyful feet.

The mountains green a refuge were, a soaring paradise,

On certain days up there we’d play with every child’s device.

The hills were mirrored in the sea that sparkled in the sun,

Verdant Nature filled their folds and enchanted every one.

Some roads meandered ‘cross the scene like furrows on the hand,

Pathways quiet with traffic slow plodding by the strand.

Many belfries marked the sites, as did Our Lady on her hill,

The cliffs, the rocks, the ancient trees all in my memory still.

Likewise the friendly old bazaar, where each one knew the other,

And called the passer by his name as though he were a brother.

Indifference had no place in there, nor was pollution found,

The greetings and the handshakes and every friendly sound.

The nearby sand unspoiled it was a place where one could hear

The lapping of the wavelets with no noise to interfere.

Added to the daytime pleasure the glory of the night

With a line of sleeping houses all pleasing to the sight.

But schools were found in Jounieh of such far-flung renown

Their pupils far outnumbered the people of the town;

Hundreds lived as boarders far from their parents’ smiles

While others came in buses or tramping many miles.

Then in the streets and squares many thousands would unite

To celebrate the feast-days with ritual and delight;

Then when the sky was clement in Mary’s month of May

Crowds would climb the mountain and by her statue pray.

A monument to Mary at Harissa shows our Queen

Object of devotion with downward gaze serene.

The people with the buildings, the trees and ancient stones

Brought earth and sky together with their rising prayerful tones.

In their many quiet cloisters the monks and brothers prayed

While all the cheerful townsfolk were happy unafraid.

When the fishermen returned and heaved their boats ashore

They brought a rich sea harvest of fishes by the score.

Can time halt in its tracks or can we live again the past,

Or can we see the future when all will end at last?

Joseph Matar
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Translated from French: K.J.Mortimer