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


How long does a wing beat last?
How far away is the farthest Star?
We all are butterfly children.
We all fell from abyssal skies.

But the Sea remains aware.
We’re riding the crest of a dream,
and there is no reason to worry.
Waves of light will carry us home.

The Heart beats slow.
The Soul weighs nothing.
We already know

Love is Eternity.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The black wolf let out a howl.
The beast lurks in my chest.
My house is made of straw:
how could I get some rest?

But I’m in love with the Sea,
and it’s bigger than Fate.
Eternity remains undefined,
my soul can ride the wind:

every time I watch the Stars
I get my breath back,
so when they’re about to pounce
the Night will save me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Avril. Train de banlieue.
Dernier printemps, ton hiver.
1980. Au revoir Isabelle :
ton âme n’est plus éternelle.

Novembre. Le temps a passé
et nos parents sont au ciel.
Infini bleu, soleil couchant :
le monde est couronné de lumière.

1980. Sombre éternité.
Mais je suis resté ton frère.
Lumière, autre nom de l’Amour.
Lumière, et ta vie recommence.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


April. Suburban train.
Last Spring, your Winter.
1980. Isabelle’s farewell.
Her soul has gone.

November. Many years later.
Our parents in Heaven.
Blue Infinite. Sunset.
A world crowned with Light.

1980. Dark eternity.
But I’m still your brother.
Light. Another word for Love.
Light. And your life begins again.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


llustration: Ophelia (John-William Waterhouse, 1889)

La Source est généreuse,
le rivage est paisible,
l’eau chante et court
et c’est un flot d’amour.

qui ne tarit jamais.

Et si doucement je m’endors,
vous trouverez toujours
au bord bleu de la Nuit
ou dans le mot rivière

mieux que de l’or, de la Lumière.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Bountiful Spring
peaceful Shore,
Love flows, waters sing
and never run dry.

And if I gently fall asleep

you will always find
on the blue edge of the Night
or in the word river
something better than gold,

you will find some Light.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


illustration : River Landscape (Gustave Courbet, 1869)

The birds have flown,
the tree has grown,
and nobody sits on the bench
but a sad and lonely child.

Did the gray heron
stop fishing in the pond?
Do water-lilies bloom
forever and beyond?

Time plays the piano
and brings me solace.
Miracles or Memories.
Stillness and Beauty.

at the edge of Eternity.
Oh! You look so pretty
when you come and sit by me!

© Frédéric Georges Martin