Prayer for a lonely Garden

My garden, my heaven,
I wonder who will listen
to the cherry tree spirits.
Will the rain quench your thirst?

And who will see the wandering
soul of the purple blue thistle?
My garden, my heaven,
I remember Winters. I remember Summers.

How brave snowdrops were!
How worthy the lily was!
But the hour is fast approaching:
I will soon be leaving

and I must pray for you.
May seasons be sweet. May children
marvel at your many wonders.
May you become

their Garden, their Heaven.

Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Daubigny’s Garden
(Vincent Van Gogh, 1890)

El Atlántico Infinito

¡Atlántico infinito, tú que mi canto ordenas! (Tomás Morales)

When I saw Him again
El Atlántico infinito
neither salt nor blueness
burned my eyes.

The forceful Wave
did not break my heart
but the wind went through
my body

and my soul
dissolved into vast space
sang the Song of eternal Life
El Atlántico infinito.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

¡Atlántico infinito, tú que mi canto ordenas! (Tomás Morales)

Et quand  je L’ai revu
El Atlántico infinito
ni le sel ni l’azur
ne m’ont brûlé les yeux.

La vague violente
n’a pas brisé mon coeur,
mais le vent a traversé
mon corps

et mon âme
en l’infini dissoute
a chanté le chant de la vie éternelle
El Atlántico infinito.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

la mer à Puerto de la Nieves © 2017– F.G.M.

A Man of no Importance

I was a shadow child,
prodigal son guided by
the careful hands of Forgiveness,

lost soul made of star dust,
younger brother of words like
orphan and light.

I learned little by little
both from short lives
and long silences.

I finally became
a man of no importance:
I was everyone

and everyone was me.
The starry sky had reminded me
who I really am.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Star of the Hero
(Nicholas Roerich 1936)

 

Evening Light / Lumière du Soir

Between the end of the day
and the beginning of night
Love is made visible
and the soul-stuff is palpable.

Angled light, lengthening shadows.
Tranquil harmony of purple sounds:
peace and mystery rule the garden,
echoes of the sunset heal all wounds.

Evening Light.

To love is to see.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Elle ressemble à l’étoffe
dont les âmes sont faites.
Les jardins qu’elle inonde
se font miroirs de l’Autre Monde

et quand elle s’unit au Silence
l’Amour rendu visible
soudain n’est plus
indicible.

Lumière du soir.

Aimer c’est voir.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Sunset at Sent Charlez. Eragny
(Camille Pissarro, 1891)

The Light of the World / La Lumière du Monde

Blessed are those
who hide their name
and humbly kneel before a dog rose
for they spread the Father’s fame.

Blessed are those
who give a candlelight to the Night
for they shall receive the Dawn
as a reward for their gift.

Blessed are those
who ignite the Spark of Love
for the Spark becomes Fire
and the Fire becomes Light,

and the Light is the Word
and the Word never dies:
blessed are those who love
and believe in Life!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Heureux ceux qui cachent leur nom
et humblement s’agenouillent
devant une rose de chien
car il œuvrent à la renommée du Père.

Heureux ceux qui offrent à la Nuit
la lueur d’une chandelle
car ils recevront l’Aurore
en récompense de leur présent.

Heureux ceux qui allument
la flamme de l’Amour
car la flamme devient Feu
et le Feu devient Lumière

et la Lumière est le Verbe
et le Verbe ne meurt jamais.
Heureux ceux qui aiment
et croient en la Vie !

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Christ in the Sepulchre
(William Blake)

The Handkerchief

Imagination is a lace maker,
so when you feel down,
go to the seaside of your dreams
and walk along the tallest cliff.

Make a small white handkerchief
from the cotton clouds.
Think about worries and grief, gather
all the little black pebbles you find.

Wrap them in your handkerchief,
then throw it up in the air.
The Wind hears every prayer.
Make a wish, kiss a clover leaf.

You are lighter than a cloud
floating above the Sea.
Now you feel relieved,
now you can wake up.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Falaises à Fécamp
(Claude Monet, 1881)