Un soir d’été,
peut-être en juillet,
quand la lumière faiblissante
apaise tout,

après avoir touché la terre
et les arbres,
et senti la brise
s’élever jusqu’aux étoiles,

dans ce fin brouillard bleu,
qui fait la beauté
d’un jardin avant la Nuit,

j’aimerais quitter le monde.


On a Summer evening
maybe in July
when the dimming Light
heals everything

after I touched
trees and soil
and felt the breeze
rising up to the stars

in the blue mist that makes
a garden before the Night
such a peaceful place
I would like to leave

the world behind.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


illustration: Garden of Dreams
(Eyvind Earle, 1990)

Instead of watching tv
I could have gone to your garden.
There you had grown sunflowers
and planted a walnut tree.

But I did not care at all
and didn’t try to cross the wall.
The walnut tree was cut down,
sunflowers turned all to dust,

and now, you’re so far away.
Unsaid words weighs heavy
on my heart. Yet I still dare
to hope it’s not too late.

Daddy! What a wonderful garden!

© Frédéric Georges Martin


illustration: the Gardener
Georges Seurat (1884-83)

When the blackbirds are back,
when the rain makes them sing again,
the shy masters of the garden
will tell us about little things

like the green lined joy of snowdrops,
the ruby beauty of cherry trees,
spider webs glistening with dew
or the Second Spring revealed anew,

and if we stay quiet long enough
we may hear a few more words of Hope
there is never one Sunrise the same
and the best is always yet to come.

© Frédéric Georges Martin