Something blue

Sometimes you walk on water,
sometimes you sink like a stone:

there are many farewells
on the way to Summer.

Because the sun did not show up
I gave up on my blue dreams

and sold my soul to the Devil.
But bluebells bought it back:

some flowers are angels in disguise
some forests look like Paradise!

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Something blue © 2018 – F.G.M.

Birds are eternal

The day has begun
with a birdsong:
April speaks like an angel

and Spring told me
I was wrong.
This world is not Hell.

We’re not living
under the Devil’s spell.
The Night will never end

but birds are eternal
and I’m nearing
my destination.

Heaven is inside me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Snowflakes in Sunlight / Danse mystique

Was it Winter’s swan song
or a strange harbinger of Spring?
The day before yesterday I saw
snowflakes in sunlight

softly falling from the Sky.
A waltz of stellar crystals
and gleeful particles.
Silent rain of divine Light.

And I danced with you,
and with Her
on the border that unites
Winter and Spring,

timeless place
where Hope and Love
show us their wonderful
Face.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Etait-ce le chant du cygne de l’hiver
ou l’étrange présage du printemps ?
J’ai vu doucement tomber du ciel,
et du soleil, des flocons de neige.

Une valse de cristaux et d’étoiles
de particules joyeuses,
pluie de lumière, avant hier,
silencieuse et divine.

Et j’ai dansé avec toi, avec Elle,
sur la frontière qui ne sépare pas
l’Hiver du Printemps,

espace hors du temps
où l’Espérance et l’Amour dévoilent
leur merveilleux visage.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Flocons de neige dans l’Infini © 2018 – F.G.M.

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)

The last Hope

Taciturn poplars close ranks.
They do not fear November.

I try to fill in the blanks.
Will the dawn remember?

But the sky has cried enough,
flowers have fallen into a deep sleep.

Winter Soldiers know their stuff.
The last Hope is a secret to keep.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Peupliers au petit matin © 2017 – F.G.M.