Selfless Trees / Etoiles silencieuses

I came into the world
not to tell the truth
but little things similar

still water reflections
white lies
lazy butterflies
slow days of May
faithful hawthorn
blue dreams underway
and the sweet voice of flowers
in the evening light

and all those silent stars
far above
the selfless trees.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Ce n’est pas pour dire la vérité
que je suis venu au monde
mais ce qui s’en rapproche

reflets sur l’eau
mensonges pieux
papillons paresseux
aubépine fidèle
lentes journées de mai
rêves bleus tout juste commencés
et la douce voix des fleurs
dans la lumière du soir

et par delà les cimes
des arbres magnanimes
toutes ces étoiles silencieuses.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

 

~

En Vérité (reflets) © 2018 – F.G.M.

A Butterfly’s Dream

“Verily, verily, I am blue!”
a yellow flower said
“…and whoever believes in me will be given
a glimpse of the true nature of things.”

*

This was certainly
a butterfly’s dream,
but things are never as they seem
and dreams give us rainbow wings.

*

O wise wild Flowers,
erudite Mentors,
Keepers of the hidden Hour:
why do we not trust you?

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Fleur jaune © 2018 – F.G.M.

Heart Wisdom

In a city of shadows and light
I met three men claiming to be wise.

The great Traveler said
travel and stop traveling.

The clever Teacher said
teach and stop teaching.

The seasoned Farmer said
harvest and stop harvesting.

Then I walked past
a deaf and dumb Beggar

and read what he had written
on the grimy sidewalk

love and never stop loving.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

Nudité / Nakedness

Sans bien savoir pourquoi
au bord du canal
j’ai eu l’envie de m’asseoir.
Il n’était pas midi.

Un vent léger et l’eau jouaient
au jeu des songes évanouis,
quand une mouette aussi jolie qu’un ange
tout près de moi s’est approchée.

Mais l’oiseau s’est envolé,
la brise a gagné la partie,
laissant mon âme seule
et nue.

Une passante un peu pressée
s’est retournée
et je me demande encore
ce qu’elle a vu.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Without knowing why,
I felt like sitting
on the banks of the canal.
It was almost noon.

A light wind and the water were playing
the vanishing dreams game,
when a seagull as beautiful as an angel
came up to me.

But the bird flew away,
the breeze won the game
and left my soul alone
and naked.

A woman in a bit of a hurry
looked back at me
and I still wonder
what she saw.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

Au bord de l’eau © 2017 – F.G.M.

Je suis un rêve / I am a Dream

Merveilleuse lumière qui traverse
la Nuit, qui transperce le Temps.

Etoiles, je vous aimais,
Amour, je te croyais.

Mais je suis un rêve
et vous aussi.

Je pleure – ce n’est rien.
Si je cesse de rêver, je meurs.

Rêve. Pénombre. Clarté. Dieu,
et tout redevient vrai.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

The Light has come out of the Night
and breaks through the mist of Time.

Stars, I loved you.
Love, I believed in you.

But I am a Dream and so are you.
I’m crying. That’s nothing.

If I cease to dream, I’ll cease to live.
Dream. Darkness. Brightness. God,

and eveything comes
true.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

~

illustration: Joseph’s Dream (Mikalojus Konstantinas Ciurlionis, 1907)

 

This is not a Dream

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