I loved you
long before I was born
and you will always be
in my heart.

Gardens of Yesterday,
gardens of Tomorrow,
I see you through
the eyes of my soul.

Midnight Light.
We all stand together
in a world of stars
in a world of Love.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Bien avant d’être né
déjà je vous aimais.
Absents,
vous êtes pourtant dans mon cœur.

Jardins d’hier,
jardins de demain,
les yeux fermés
je vous vois.

Minuit. En Sa lumière
nous sommes réunis
dans un monde d’étoile
dans un monde d’Amour.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

You were ready to walk
through the Night with me
but you died on a Winter day
and left me Spring as a legacy.

Flowers and words in blue,
words and flowers from you:
now what is yours is mine
and what is mine is yours.

Mummy,
Love is not missing.
Thank you for
the Blessing.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

all walls shall collapse
all roads lead home

hope is never wrong
hope is a Spring song

and Winter flowers sing
and make light of frost

our paths have crossed
we’ll never go astray

the sky is deep blue
our love is the way

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The Lake looks clear
and deep.
Farewell
beneath the blue sky.

The world is uspide down.
Did Time drown?
Heaven seems so near.
Am I falling asleep?

All things exist
Now.
Peace:
You are God.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Le lac semble clair
et profond.
Adieu
sous le ciel bleu.

Le monde est à l’envers.
Le temps s’est-il noyé ?
Le ciel semble si proche.
Suis-je en train de m’endormir?

Toutes choses existent
en cet Instant.
Paix :
Tu es Dieu.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

If you are blind
you will see,
if you are deaf
you will hear.

Whenever you want
whoever you are
you can enter
the Cathedral,

for every Dawn marks
the Soul’s birthday.
We are welcome
and loved

anyway.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

talk through the walls of ignorance
climb the mountain
confide in wild flowers
obey the bird of Silence
look beyond the stars
drink from the Fountain
think about what will be left of you

love everyone you meet

and find Truth
in the depths of your heart

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Mother Earth is crying
tears of salt and blood.
Disregard burns her face,

rivers of blue flowers run dry,
and fearsome shadows haunt
the Gardens of the Alhambra.

Do we really want to hear
the Song of the World’s last Whale?
This is not a morality Tale.

Uncaring children
do not know what they are doing.
Who will look after orphans?

Mother Earth is dying!

© Frédéric Georges Martin