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I would like to write a poem
my mind said.
I have no inspiration
my heart whispered.
Shut up!
my soul shouted.

Birds are singing
the blue Songs of Spring
Skies are bigger
and bigger
Skies are closer
and closer.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Je voudrais écrire un poème
dit mon esprit.
Je n’ai pas d’inspiration
soupira mon cœur.
Silence !
cria mon âme.

Voici que les oiseaux chantent
les chants bleus du Printemps
les cieux
sont de plus en plus grands
les cieux
sont de plus en plus proches.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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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

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How much do words weigh?
Will Summer find its way?
Could paper birds teach me
the art of asking the right questions?

Someone left the window open
and the Door ajar.
The stars shine over the hawthorn hedge.
The Night brings a wealth of knowledge.

I let the paper birds fly away.
Happiness takes patience.
When they come home,
they will bring me answers.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

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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

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I loved you
long before I was born
and you will always be
in my heart.

Gardens of Yesterday,
gardens of Tomorrow,
I see you through
the eyes of my soul.

Midnight Light.
We all stand together
in a world of stars
in a world of Love.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Bien avant d’être né
déjà je vous aimais.
Absents,
vous êtes pourtant dans mon cœur.

Jardins d’hier,
jardins de demain,
les yeux fermés
je vous vois.

Minuit. En Sa lumière
nous sommes réunis
dans un monde d’étoile
dans un monde d’Amour.

© Frédéric Georges Martin