A ray of sun flowers in the snow,
Adorns the garden with gold and diamonds.
At the tops of trees, the north wind plays arpeggios
And chords with cold wintry instruments.

Numb birds are singing : What a privilege !
A ray of sun flowers in the snow !
Blackbirds in the thicket, larks in the country,
Send skyward trills of their songs.

To set the scene, no need for designer.
Nature comes to an agreement with Time artfully :
A ray of sun flowers in the snow
And hangs thousand lights to the mirrors of ponds.

I would never commit a sacrilege
By soiling this white ground with my footprints.
Mesmerized, I admire, immobile and trembling,
A ray of sun flowers in the snow.



Note : this form is called "maillet" in french poetry. The first line becomes the 2d line, next the 3rd, ...

A thick whiteness emerges from the night,
In the garden the blackbirds quarrel
But the fog stifles the noise
And garnishes the trees with pearls.
In the sky, the sun is a pale and cold white disc.

On the hill,  the frost, son of Winter,
Bloomed the grass with thousand diamants;
Everything seems still and nothing seems to live.

However, above the silence, a small river
Makes music for whoever wants to listen to it
And forms with the wind a perfect orchestra .
It's a fantastic symphony !

By their chords, they play the cold,
The chills, the frosts, the winter and its attendant pains,
Also the evenings by the fireside, the breath of wind ...
Yes, but for children, the snowman !

She is only a Spring flower,
But her charm has such power
That we are captived by its heat
And she dazzles us a little bit.

We can hear when she laughs
Freshness and simplicity of Hollyhocks,
In her eyes thousand pearls of light
Shine as the stars in the night.

I laid out words, flat, on my palette,
Then I took a feather and mixed them up.
When my canvas was ready, I have put them in order
With the greatest care
So for them to make sense.
I took 'tender' and 'caress', and I put them together
On a background of 'kisses'.
Then I chose 'softness'
To paint your eyes and so that it looks like yours,
And I covered the whole with a veil of modesty.
I placed this painting on a wall in my room,
So you smile at me when the moon shines,
You fall asleep near me from January to December,
And I can join you in a dream every night.

No, it is not the night which strikes at your windows
They are butterflies escaped from my pen
Who fly towards you  and call you when  
The stars light up, they are my faithful heralds.

Do'nt imprison yourself behind infernal bars,
From this cloister where bitterness flourishes,
My love is so great and I hear  your wishes :
I will cross these walls even if very high they are.

I want to take you to the other side of the world
Do you want it ? I hope just a word
And you will see the sun emerge in the morning.

We will make our layer at the top of a dune
To listen to the sea and to admire the moon,
And you will shudder at the caresses of the wind.

Am I living ? I don't know
If my dream is good or bad,
You, my friend, you my fellow,
Why seems your smile so sad ?

Where is my past ? Is it finished ?
I have forgotten my story.
Everything seems to be vanished
When I ask my memory.

I realize that tomorrow
Will be dark as a night. And I see
That my future —yes, this, I know —
Will be a ship who sinks in sea.


( Poem written for the day of the Alzheimer's disease)

Tonight I need to snuggle in your arms
To heat at the burning fire of your caress
To dwell on the soft velvet of your tenderness
And to be soothed by your kisses

When the night deposits a shroud of secrecy on us
I hear all the words you don't say in your silence
I drink the nectar of your presence
And I taste your sweet kisses honey

Up there, at the bottom of the distant universe
Millions of Sun will be our fortune
Through the open window a white ray of moon
Shall draw on our bed a silver spot.

Then when we will be defeated by sleep
Tired but happy that day ends
When you go to the country of the dream,
I'll await your smile at the moment of your awakening.