Snowflakes in Sunlight / Danse mystique

Was it Winter’s swan song
or a strange harbinger of Spring?
The day before yesterday I saw
snowflakes in sunlight

softly falling from the Sky.
A waltz of stellar crystals
and gleeful particles.
Silent rain of divine Light.

And I danced with you,
and with Her
on the border that unites
Winter and Spring,

timeless place
where Hope and Love
show us their wonderful

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Etait-ce le chant du cygne de l’hiver
ou l’étrange présage du printemps ?
J’ai vu doucement tomber du ciel,
et du soleil, des flocons de neige.

Une valse de cristaux et d’étoiles
de particules joyeuses,
pluie de lumière, avant hier,
silencieuse et divine.

Et j’ai dansé avec toi, avec Elle,
sur la frontière qui ne sépare pas
l’Hiver du Printemps,

espace hors du temps
où l’Espérance et l’Amour dévoilent
leur merveilleux visage.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Flocons de neige dans l’Infini © 2018 – F.G.M.

A Thank You Letter

School kids had great fun playing in the snow.
They ran, they hid, they laughed.
Now Time speaks slow.
I stand on its whitest side.

There’s ice on the sidewalk
and nothing to thank for.
Grownups are petty
and ungrateful.

I’m cold and disenchanted.
But I don’t want to be like them,
and so I write for Winter
a thank you letter.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Allée sous la neige, Paris © 2018 – F.G.M.

Revelation / Révélation

Almost all the leaves have fallen,
the two last roses of the year
do not seem to feel the threat.

Candles cannot replace the sun,
it’s drizzling. I forget.
My soul is poor and wet.

But that is how the World
and the Heart reflect Light.
Winter. Sadness. Beauty.


© Frédéric Georges Martin


Presque toutes les feuilles
sont tombées,
et deux roses dernières
ne semblent deviner la menace.

Quelques bougies ne peuvent
remplacer le soleil.
J’oublie. Sur mon âme nue,
il bruine.

Mais c’est ainsi que le monde
et le cœur reflètent la lumière.
Hiver. Tristesse. Beauté.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Deux roses © 2017 – F.G.M.

Last Dream (Winter’s Tale)

Most snowflakes
do not philosophize
nor do they worry
about falling to the ground.

But One of them
had a little boy’s soul
seeking to overcome
the fear of death.

One night shortly
before Christmas
he had one beautiful
last dream.

Snow had fallen.
Snow had melted.
Once upon a Spring morn
a snowdrop was born.

© Frédéric Georges Martin

The last Hope

Taciturn poplars close ranks.
They do not fear November.

I try to fill in the blanks.
Will the dawn remember?

But the sky has cried enough,
flowers have fallen into a deep sleep.

Winter Soldiers know their stuff.
The last Hope is a secret to keep.

© Frédéric Georges Martin


Peupliers au petit matin © 2017 – F.G.M.