Jean-Marc, the Firstborn Boy:

(Born 22:00 hrs., Monday, 11th August 2008)

It happened in August ‘neath starry skies,
Eighth in a family, an evening surprise,
He came here to join us with childlike smile,
The new-born babe to fill us with pride!
“When the infant appears,” Victor Hugo did say,
“ ’Tis a beautiful world and everyone’s gay.”
Seven days in the week, seven petals of rose,
Mystery of seven! In poetry and prose
The Muses are seven but to even the score
Comes number eight adding joy with one more.
This time ‘tis a boy and he will delight
His seven big sisters who rejoice at the sight.
Holy Mary protects him and so does St. Clare,
Born in ways that with him compare.
The baby now sleeps in slumber profound,
Ahead lies a life where wonders abound.
Father and mother rejoicing receive
Friends like the Wise Men and gifts that they leave.
They have named him John Mark, called after the son
Of Mary to whom Peter from prison had come. (Acts XII, 12)
Like his father? Like his mother? Each would design
This lion’s whelp, born ‘neath the lion’s zodiac sign.
He was born at the dawn of the third thousand years
When rapid the change that our progress confers.
The future awaits for us boldly to face
As in the new world we must leave our trace.
Parents and children and their children too
Weave human fabric which is ever anew.
Small baby, John Mark, warm love will abound,
The Savior, the Virgin, the saints you surround.
They’ll give you your heart and force and persistence,
All that you need in this earthly existence.
In Bethlehem’s cavern Christ also was small;
Likewise you’ll grow and with care become tall.
You’ll be the object your parents desired
Surrounded with love and warmly admired.
Your uncles and aunts, all your relatives pressing,
Delight in the feast for heaven’s new blessing.
Child born of Byblos and pride of its story,
Born of a race which gave it its glory.
Devoted to Byblos they gave it a history
Going back centuries till shrouded in mystery.
From river Adonis they water their fields
And wise were the doctors who tended their ills.
Schools passed on learning and theaters gave feast
While the people all prayed with imam and priest.
Here in letters of gold the Anthem was writ of our nation,
And so proclaimed the country’s new-found station.
Three illustrious generations regard you, John Mark
While you sleep quiet in your world apart,
In swaddling clothes as if come from Fairy Land
With golden rays and stars in heavenly band.
The angels keep you company with the Muses all around
Saint Theresa and Saint Clare add their voices to the sound,
Rebecca and the Magdalene and the saints join in the joy
Of a great house united round its first boy.

Joseph Matar
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Translated from French: K.J.Mortimer