arboretum-des-grandes-bruyeres

Au début de Novembre
beaucoup vont sur les tombes
déposer des bouquets
faits de regrets et de grises pensées.

Moi, je vais seul au jardin
cueillir des couleurs sur les arbres de feu,
écouter en silence et planter pour avril
de la bruyère sauvage, des anémones bleues.

Alors je pense à vous.
Et j’aime quand, ébloui par le soleil,
un instant, je vous revois,
souriants et semblant si heureux.

~

At the beginning of November
many visit graveyards
and put bouquets on graves
made of regrets and gray thoughts.

I come to the garden alone,
I pick colors from fire trees,
I listen in silence, I dream of Spring
and plant wild heather and blues anemones.

Then I think of you. 
And I love when, dazzled by the sunlight,
for one moment, I see you smiling
and looking so happy.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Arboretum des Grandes Bruyères (Ingrannes, France) © 2016 – F.G.M.

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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.

The nights get colder and colder.
Without a sound
the red oak leaves
are falling on the ground.

Snails and ferns
before they sleep or die
can now watch
faint stars in the sky.

Yesterday
Summer was buried.
The wind blew,
a pale flower worried.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Dandelion

“Will I survive the Storm?”

the Dandelion Seed asked to the Spirit of the Wind

“No.” 

He said before adding warmly

“But the Flower will.”

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Dandelion seeds © 2016 – F.G.M.

Fluttering leaves.
Shades of orange and brown.
Autumnal holograms
illuminated from within.

Fall is a collage maker,
a painter of renown,
but it seems passers-by see
nothing.

I’m smiling, not really dreaming.
Time has been set free.
This is almost eternity,
and you are so close to me.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Round and round the Garden
I’m sure years didn’t harden
your heart

and you were strong enough
to go
through the wind and the rain.

But I know words
will never relieve
your pain.

One step
two step
unsmiling little tin soldier,

open your small rusty hand
and sing, sing, sing
this is the best way to regain

the will to breathe
the will to live
the will to love!

© Frédéric Georges Martin