Birds of Paradise

Whether the Moon hides Her face
or She gives you
a gentle smile of grace,

if you believe in Parables
and remember Love
works miracles,

the Night of Christmas Eve
Birds of paradise will take you
under their silver wings.

Brave bearers of Hope,
keepers of the divine Spark
that lives inside the Heart,

they fly through the dark
they bring the stars to Earth
and make your Dreams

come true.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Birds of Paradise (Vicente Manansala, XXth century)

Revelation / Révélation

Almost all the leaves have fallen,
the two last roses of the year
do not seem to feel the threat.

Candles cannot replace the sun,
it’s drizzling. I forget.
My soul is poor and wet.

But that is how the World
and the Heart reflect Light.
Winter. Sadness. Beauty.

Revelation.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Presque toutes les feuilles
sont tombées,
et deux roses dernières
ne semblent deviner la menace.

Quelques bougies ne peuvent
remplacer le soleil.
J’oublie. Sur mon âme nue,
il bruine.

Mais c’est ainsi que le monde
et le cœur reflètent la lumière.
Hiver. Tristesse. Beauté.
Révélation.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Deux roses © 2017 – F.G.M.

Last Dream (Winter’s Tale)

Most snowflakes
do not philosophize
nor do they worry
about falling to the ground.

But One of them
had a little boy’s soul
seeking to overcome
the fear of death.

One night shortly
before Christmas
he had one beautiful
last dream.

Snow had fallen.
Snow had melted.
Once upon a Spring morn
a snowdrop was born.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Heart Wisdom

In a city of shadows and light
I met three men claiming to be wise.

The great Traveler said
travel and stop traveling.

The clever Teacher said
teach and stop teaching.

The seasoned Farmer said
harvest and stop harvesting.

Then I walked past
a deaf and dumb Beggar

and read what he had written
on the grimy sidewalk

love and never stop loving.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Paris-loin-de-la-mer

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
you did take me into your arms
when I was born.

Alas, wooden boats of yours
do not know what salt tastes like
nor they hear the mermaids singing.

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
maybe you did make
some of my dreams come true,

but I’m the ungrateful child
of your low skies,
Paris-loin-de-la-mer

and I don’t want to die by your side.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
tu m’a pris dans tes bras
quand je suis né.

Hélas, tes bateaux de bois
ne connaissent ni le goût du sel
ni n’entendent le chant des sirènes.

Pourtant, Paris-loin-de-la-mer,
quelques-uns de mes rêves
c’est bien toi qui les réalisas.

Mais je suis l’enfant ingrat
de tes ciels bas, aussi,
Paris-loin-de-la-mer,

je veux pas mourir auprès de toi.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Bateaux rêveurs, Paris. © 2017– F.G.M.