Nowhere

At two past midnight
I had  two strange visitors.
Were they lost? Were they guides?
The Night only knows!

Unseen stars,
the light of a doubt,
soul scars,
the Maze and the Way Out:

I miss their secret teachings.
They’re nowhere to be found!
Nowhere, they said.
Nowhere, I only remember!

Nowhere.
Where all my dreams have gone.
Nowhere.
The place where Love was born!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Jamais trop tard / Never too late

Un matin de mai
j’ai vu sur un mur de Paris
écrit en lettres rouges
le mot AMOUR.

Cela m’a rendu triste,
triste
car d’Amour
le monde manque tant,

et j’ai soudain pensé
plein de regrets
à tous mes “j’aurais-dû”
à tous mes “j’aurais-pu”.

Alors un ange ou peut-être
cet enfant en chacun de nous
a murmuré
“il n’est jamais trop tard !”

Un matin de mai
j’ai vu sur un mur de Paris
écrit en lettres rouges
le mot AMOUR.

~

On a May morning
I saw the word LOVE
written in red 
on a wall in Paris.

That made me feel sad,
so sad
for the world craves
a Love so deep!

 And I regretfully thought
about all my 
“I-should-have” 
and “I-could-have”…

Then an angel
or maybe the child in each of us
whispered 
“It’s never too late…”

On a May morning
I saw the word LOVE
written in red 
on a wall in Paris.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: image chef

Clumsy and sad

I saw
the grace of blue lakes,
two-way mirrors reflecting the sky
and beyond,

and I stood amazed.

I saw
the beauty of mountains
high and silent peaks resembling
majestic kings that filled me

with wonder.

But I did not see
I was trampling a tiny flower
as white as an angel’s wing
and I feel clumsy

and sad.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Pic du Midi d’Ossau (Pyrénées, France) © 2016 – F.G.M.

Ange fidèle / Faithful Angel

la-seine-en-hiver

Qui est la plus belle ?
la Seine ou la lumière d’hiver ?
L’autre rive ou celle-ci ?

Ou peut-être
l’âme du peintre
marchant sur l’eau ?

Je crois bien c’est la tienne,
Ange fidèle
qui toujours m’accompagne.

~

Which one is the most beautiful?
The Seine River or the light of Winter?
This side of the River or the other one?

Or maybe
the painter’s soul
walking on water?

I believe it is yours,
faithful angel,
always by my side.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

La Seine en Hiver  © 2016 – F.G.M.

Silent Call

silent-call

Passers-by hurry in the rain
and build castles in Spain
and no one listens to the little shepherd
perched on the fountain of Truth.

Walk slow! He says loud and clear.
Walk slow! As if you were going
to leave the world tomorrow,
and follow the Path of Awe!

And dead leaves only know
why sometimes in the Fall
some lambs still lost in the mist
can hear an angel’s silent Call.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

La Fontaine au Berger © 2016 – F.G.M.