I asked for
a Sign.
An Angel
dropped me a line.
As if suspended
in the brume
just
heather in bloom.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
J’ai demandé
un signe.
Dans le jardin,
je l’ai reçu,
comme une ligne
écrite par un ange,
simplement
de la bruyère en fleur.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
Come rain or shine
wild flowers remain graceful
and the Moon knows light and shade
can get along just fine.
In a world of dreams
you can go as you please
for the Flame does not flicker
in the breeze.
The birth of a rose,
the life of a bird,
nothing lasts for long
but Love is more patient than I,
and so I sing
the Song of the Dawn Sky
the Song of the Evening Star
the Song of Amazement!
© Frédéric Georges Martin
The Night before we left
I had such a beautiful dream.
I dreamt I flew in the moonlight
and played among the stars.
I also met my father.
He said I was his Friend Pierrot
and hugged me.
I still remember how deeply I felt
his Heart beating against mine,
and even the way I rose up in the sky.
But last Night I didn’t go so far.
Please, see the light of stars in you
and believe my father’s friend.
Some Dreams are truer than Life
and some Words,
stronger than Death.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
La nuit avant notre départ,
j’ai fait un si beau rêve. Je volais
au clair de lune. Je jouais parmi les étoiles.
Et puis j’ai rencontré mon père.
Il m’a dit que j’étais son ami Pierrot.
Il m’a serré contre lui, si fort
que je pouvais entendre
battre son Cœur contre le mien.
Et je me souviens même comment
vers le ciel j’ai pris mon élan.
Mais je ne suis pas allé si loin.
Voyez en vous la lumière des étoiles
et croyez l’ami de mon père :
certains rêves sont plus vrais que la vie,
et certains mots,
plus forts que la mort.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
Thinner than silk paper
softer than mango butter
it looks like both
a frangipani flower
and that special ray of sunshine
able to soften any stone.
Reasons remain unknown,
but as sure as day follows Night
a Treasure of Light
has stolen my heart
and such beauty
gives me the shivers.
From now on
I can touch
the skin of your soul.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
Frangipani Flower © 2017– F.G.M.
This is not a dream.
We often go through
the small iron door,
we often walk around
the garden of treasures.
What we say, you hear.
What you see, we see.
The oak leaves rustling in the wind
and the gleam of the Moon
and the blackberry bush,
the birds and the violets.
Everything’s so nice
in the silent twilight.
For Children of the Night
always remember the Truth,
this is not a dream.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
© Frédéric Georges Martin
I’d like to plant a Dream tree
in the garden of lost words,
I know it can reach the sky
then bloom like a lotus.
I will climb up the tree
before jumping into a cloud
and if you throw me a rope
and hold out your hand to me
we’ll spend the Night
gazing at giant stars,
we’ll dance in the blue shade
as Dancers of Light do.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
