How hard it is
to love an angel.
Nathaniel,
a flower has fallen.
Nathaniel,
how heartbreaking the world is.
Nathaniel,
may I write your name on my heart?
If I ever die
it will not fade away.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
Fallen Flower © 2019– F.G.M.
How you ever wondered about
the origin of Light?
Do you think we resemble
rainbows?
Will your heart answer
my question?
Where,
where does Love come from?
© Frédéric Georges Martin
ten
let’s try the word
nine
existence
eight
there is a light
seven
in the distance
six
no matter if
five
it’s raining
four
remember
three
the beauty of a rose
two
not eveything ends
one
there we go
zero
come into the rainbow!
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
illustration: Rainbow
(Arkhip Kuindzhi)
violet trees
light breeze
clear waters
treasure coffers
fading realities
rising memories
true words
free birds
my love
like a dove
in paradisum
© Frédéric Georges Martin
lighter than air
brighter than light
longer than time
higher than stars
stronger than love
here and hereafter
butterfly prose
sonorous rainbows
yours mine theirs
eternal echoes of our
heartbeats
© Frédéric Georges Martin
I’ve left the garden
where I used to find peace
and you.
But I’m not really sad.
Flowers bloom.
Butterflies will fly around,
and the Moon shines
and the Night wears
a coat of many colours.
Listen! Birds are calling
the God of Gardeners.
The stars are the same everywhere
and Trees have said a prayer:
tonight I will return to
the garden of treasures!
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
Le jardin que j’aimais,
je jardin où je pouvais
te retrouver, je l’ai quitté.
Mais je ne suis pas vraiment triste.
La lune brille, les arbres prient,
et la nuit porte un manteau de couleurs.
Partout les étoiles sont les mêmes
et Dieu toujours nous aime.
Alors cette nuit je sais,
je sais que j’y retournerai.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
Torn-up letters of disdain.
Manuscripts thrown in the bin.
You say you are sorry.
But it is no so easy.
And I must close the book
on printed rainbows.
Raindrop words will never find
their place in the sun.
I give up. You have won.
Success will never come.
© Frédéric Georges Martin
~
illustration: The Book
(Juan Gris, 1913)
