Un ange déchu
en pleine Nuit pleurait
quand de lumière de lune
tout le jardin fut inondé.

Mais ici le poète
doit garder le silence
et nul ne saura jamais
ce qu’alors il se passa.

It is a Mystery.

Toutefois je sais qu’au matin
on put voir
des traces de petits pas
disparaissant devant les roses

et même
une nymphe innocente
encore profondément émue
par ce qu’elle avait vu.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


he who makes his heart
a cathedral of light
has nothing to fear from
the shadows of the world

he who knows
how to see with
the eyes of the Heart
will discern its true colors

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Cathédrale de Laon © 2016 – F.G.M.

In a golden garden
playful children
snap their fingers at Winter.

Do they glimpse the Squirrel?
Can they hear the Raven?
Should they try to stop Time?

A black caterpillar
goes round in circles
and Summer ghosts wonder

if that strange latecomer
will have time enough
to turn into the Year’s

last butterfly.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Dancing chickadees
in fragrant linden trees know
the Wind had a sister called

Those children of Winter
were often questioning themselves
what they would become
on the first days of Spring.

November was gloomy!
December was so cold!
And they were so worried,
poor, poor children of Winter!

But their Father Sky told them
“On the first day of Spring
You’ll become a ray of Sunlight, 
fresh water, and thus lilacs will bloom…”

That is why little chickadees
dance so gracefully.
In the gardens of God

Death does not exist.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The sun told the sky
the sky told the flower

the flower told the tree
the tree told the river

the river told the sea
the sea told the wind

the wind told the bird
and the bird told the poet…

Oh! In this world of beauty
no one is able to keep

the Secret of secrets!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

L’oeillet, son parfum,
le bleuet, sa couleur,
jour éphémère,
Nuit éternelle.

Mystère du temps,
hasard qui n’en n’est pas,
ombre aimée de la lumière
lumière aimée de l’ombre.

Bonne étoile
et berger,
mère et père
à la fois.

Le sens,
la force qui manque,
l’espoir qui revient,
la Vie, la Lumière, l’Amour.

© Frédéric Georges Martin