How hard it is
to love an angel.

Nathaniel,
a flower has fallen.

Nathaniel,
how heartbreaking the world is.

Nathaniel,
may I write your name on my heart?

If I ever die
it will not fade away.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Fallen Flower © 2019– F.G.M.

the waves
unseen
unplayed strings

all the things
we have
forgotten

what the stars really mean
the strange friendship
between the Shade and the Light

the whispers of water
the Past before the past
the Song before the birds

flowerless ferns
remember
everything

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Parque Terra Nostra (São Miguel) © 2019– F.G.M.

lava scree
dragon-tree

wall mural
red coral

sienna powder
pumice sand

birds and boats
winds and wings

and the Sun
and the Stars

I’m the child
from Nowhere

I love you
Motherland

my home is
Elsewhere

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Une île sur un mur © 2019– F.G.M.

If God does not exist,
if I sleep for all eternity
and never watch the Dawn,
never,

I don’t mind.
I’m glad to say
I dared to believe
and so did the Stars.

O Light, I did love you!
And Love was
my most beautiful
Dream.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Si Dieu n’existe pas
si le Sommeil est long,
sans que jamais je ne voie l’aube,
jamais,

je suis heureux
d’avoir osé croire
et de savoir
que les étoiles aussi.

Lumière, je t’ai tant aimé !
Et l’Amour fut
mon plus beau
Rêve.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Instant de lumière © 2018– F.G.M.

 

Slow lights
on the bare mountains,
scattered white villages
unknown roads,

invisible bridges,
floating clouds,
time suspended,
wild dreams in the wind.

The Infinite does not reveal
all its secrets at once
but if you understand
the language of stars

and finally dare
to let your heart talk
you’ll certainly find
the most important one.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Terre Promise © 2018– F.G.M.

It’s not springtime
yet Spring is in the air.

Birds seem not to care
and roses confuse
dreams with reality.

But shadows lengthen
and the robin’s heart
beats faster and faster.

September farewell.
There so little time left.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Un air de printemps
flotte sur le jardin.

L’oiseau semble indifférent
et la rose prend
ses rêves pour la réalité.

Mais les ombres s’allongent
et le cœur du rouge gorge
bat la chamade.

Adieu Septembre.
Il reste si peu de temps.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Ombre© 2018– F.G.M.