children of Icarus
we are all flying to the Sun
but even pure gold melts down

bodies made of wax
each of us shall pass away
and reduced to ashes of light

we’ll be like tiny Summer traces
words of Love
still unsaid

© Frédéric Georges Martin

To bathe naked
in the river of Time.
To forget.
To relearn.
To walk to the edge of Hell.
To dream about Heaven
about love
and stars.

To be born again,
clothed in Light.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Dans la rivière du temps,
se baigner nu.
Oublier, réapprendre.
En Enfer
presque descendre
mais du Ciel
d’Amour et d’étoiles
toujours rêver.

Et renaître,
habillé de lumière.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The evening breeze oscillates
between sadness and wisdom.

White ships move slowly.
The Moon shines brightly.

No matter if we built
a castle in the sky.

We had to learn
about dreams and Time.

When you look at the starry sky,
every moment lasts forever.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

There is no word for
the depth of darkness.
No word for
the light of stars.
No word for
the Spring.
No word for
the miracle of being.
No word for
the boundlessness of Love
and no word for
the power of

the Word.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Take care

as we used to say
but when…
when cherry blossom petals fall,
will you be there?

Shadows of the Heart.
Shadows in the Light.
Everything fades away.
Everything but the Night.

I had a nightmare.
I lose the ground beneath my feet.
When…
when I join you,

seras-tu là?

© Frédéric Georges Martin