La Condamnation / The Sentence

Désespérées, des fleurs mauves
ont embrassé l’Automne,
et des lumières oranges
ici et là s’attardent.

Ce jardin est un tableau,
et le monde est un faux,
et de mon âme j’ai perçu
la vacillation

quand j’ai reçu
ma condamnation.
Mais je t’aime à jamais
et c’est tout ce qui compte.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Desperate thistles
have fallen in love with Autumn.
Here and there
orange lights linger.

That garden is a painting,
and the world is a fake,
and I feel my soul quivering
for the sentence is Death,

but I love you
forever
and that’s all that
matters.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: thistles on orange (Erin Hanson, 2016)

La Rivière / The River

La Source est généreuse,
le rivage est paisible,
l’eau chante et court
et c’est un flot d’amour.

qui ne tarit jamais.

Et si doucement je m’endors,
vous trouverez toujours
au bord bleu de la Nuit
ou dans le mot rivière

mieux que de l’or, de la Lumière.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Bountiful Spring
peaceful Shore,
Love flows, waters sing
and never run dry.

And if I gently fall asleep

you will always find
on the blue edge of the Night
or in the word river
something better than gold,

you will find some Light.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration : River Landscape (Gustave Courbet, 1869)

The Teacher’s Prayer

He does not go to church.
He has no religion,
but he works in a school
and uses books and pencils.

He sits beside the children of God
then looks deep in their eyes.
They write the words he reads,
he reads the words they write,

and the smile on his face
enlightens their heart,
and the smile in their heart
enlightens his soul,

and I do not doubt
that God the Father
will answer
the Teacher’s Prayer.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Oubli / Oblivion

A vous qui m’avez fait du mal,
je dédie ces paroles.
Vous êtes Poussière, et je suis Vent.

Vous-ai je pardonné ? Je l’ignore.
Silencieux clair de lune,
merveilleuses étoiles.

De vous la Nuit n’a souvenir,
et moi déjà, j’oublie votre visage.
Telle est votre seconde tombe.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

To you who hurt me
I dedicate these words.
You are Dust, I am Wind.

Did I forgive you? I don’t know.
Silent moonlight,
amazing stars.

The Night does not remember you,
and I’m already forgetting your face.
That is your second grave.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Light of September

Today I saw
tall trees in the forest
standing proudly
like kings of kingdoms

unseen.

Today I heard children
still unaware of Time
celebrating a birthday
and I thought about

Life and Death.

Today I kept watching
a hungry chickadee,
I dreamed of the Sea,
I breathed the Light of September,

and that just made my day.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Forêt en Septembre © 2017– F.G.M.