El Atlántico Infinito

¡Atlántico infinito, tú que mi canto ordenas! (Tomás Morales)

When I saw Him again
El Atlántico infinito
neither salt nor blueness
burned my eyes.

The forceful Wave
did not break my heart
but the wind went through
my body

and my soul
dissolved into vast space
sang the Song of eternal Life
El Atlántico infinito.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

¡Atlántico infinito, tú que mi canto ordenas! (Tomás Morales)

Et quand  je L’ai revu
El Atlántico infinito
ni le sel ni l’azur
ne m’ont brûlé les yeux.

La vague violente
n’a pas brisé mon coeur,
mais le vent a traversé
mon corps

et mon âme
en l’infini dissoute
a chanté le chant de la vie éternelle
El Atlántico infinito.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

la mer à Puerto de la Nieves © 2017– F.G.M.

The Handkerchief

Imagination is a lace maker,
so when you feel down,
go to the seaside of your dreams
and walk along the tallest cliff.

Make a small white handkerchief
from the cotton clouds.
Think about worries and grief, gather
all the little black pebbles you find.

Wrap them in your handkerchief,
then throw it up in the air.
The Wind hears every prayer.
Make a wish, kiss a clover leaf.

You are lighter than a cloud
floating above the Sea.
Now you feel relieved,
now you can wake up.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Falaises à Fécamp
(Claude Monet, 1881)

Paris-loin-de-la-mer

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
you did take me into your arms
when I was born.

Alas, wooden boats of yours
do not know what salt tastes like
nor they hear the mermaids singing.

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
maybe you did make
some of my dreams come true,

but I’m the ungrateful child
of your low skies,
Paris-loin-de-la-mer

and I don’t want to die by your side.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Paris-loin-de-la-mer
tu m’a pris dans tes bras
quand je suis né.

Hélas, tes bateaux de bois
ne connaissent ni le goût du sel
ni n’entendent le chant des sirènes.

Pourtant, Paris-loin-de-la-mer,
quelques-uns de mes rêves
c’est bien toi qui les réalisas.

Mais je suis l’enfant ingrat
de tes ciels bas, aussi,
Paris-loin-de-la-mer,

je veux pas mourir auprès de toi.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Bateaux rêveurs, Paris. © 2017– F.G.M.

The Sign

The island was shrouded in mist.
The sea was calm and I sailed
as if guided by Dolphins and Spirits.

I walked along the pristine beach
and the winding path,
I asked well-known birds for a Sign.

The fog did not lift, the Spirits said nothing
but even before I reached the Painter’s house
I was given a bunch of flowers.

Gorse in bloom, bramble flowers
and dried ferns,
beautiful present from the Heath

that still comforts my heart.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Bouquet Champêtre, îles Chausey © 2017– F.G.M.

The Light of September

Today I saw
tall trees in the forest
standing proudly
like kings of kingdoms

unseen.

Today I heard children
still unaware of Time
celebrating a birthday
and I thought about

Life and Death.

Today I kept watching
a hungry chickadee,
I dreamed of the Sea,
I breathed the Light of September,

and that just made my day.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Forêt en Septembre © 2017– F.G.M.