The evening breeze oscillates
between sadness and wisdom.

White ships move slowly.
The Moon shines brightly.

No matter if we built
a castle in the sky.

We had to learn
about dreams and Time.

When you look at the starry sky,
every moment lasts forever.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

I would like to write a poem
my mind said.
I have no inspiration
my heart whispered.
Shut up!
my soul shouted.

Birds are singing
the blue Songs of Spring
Skies are bigger
and bigger
Skies are closer
and closer.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Je voudrais écrire un poème
dit mon esprit.
Je n’ai pas d’inspiration
soupira mon cœur.
Silence !
cria mon âme.

Voici que les oiseaux chantent
les chants bleus du Printemps
les cieux
sont de plus en plus grands
les cieux
sont de plus en plus proches.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

There is no word for
the depth of darkness.
No word for
the light of stars.
No word for
the Spring.
No word for
the miracle of being.
No word for
the boundlessness of Love
and no word for
the power of

the Word.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

How much do words weigh?
Will Summer find its way?
Could paper birds teach me
the art of asking the right questions?

Someone left the window open
and the Door ajar.
The stars shine over the hawthorn hedge.
The Night brings a wealth of knowledge.

I let the paper birds fly away.
Happiness takes patience.
When they come home,
they will bring me answers.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Take care

as we used to say
but when…
when cherry blossom petals fall,
will you be there?

Shadows of the Heart.
Shadows in the Light.
Everything fades away.
Everything but the Night.

I had a nightmare.
I lose the ground beneath my feet.
When…
when I join you,

seras-tu là?

© Frédéric Georges Martin