Артем Тюльников
Сборник стихов на английском
That Very Time (2.0)
That very time we painted town red
While in the limelight, and the grapevine rumors shed.
Our romantic hanging-outs infatuation bred.
One of the kind, unique, of homely hearth and stead.
That very time I soothed your cry,
Absorbed the tears, wrung them dry.
The closeness gave no greater fish to fry.
I feel as though our fates are interwoven with a tie.
That very time I bid goodbye,
I wish I’d had more time to buy.
The longer miles, the more they ardor magnify.
A tribute straight to which our love can testify.
That very time, you always on my mind,
I wish this time I could fast-forward or rewind.
I need you there beside me, tender, kind:
The passion of a lioness, the shrewdness of a hind.
That very time I, wretched, used to learn
How to live and breathe till your return.
My fields unbroken out of your reach all slash and burn,
Awaiting you with seeds to plant the ground stern.
That very time I listened to your dainty voice…
At greater melody or subtler I could not rejoice.
So hypnotizing and enticing, oh this very drug of choice,
And all my consonants of life with its obstructions you are there to devoice.
That very time we shared a smile
I miss so much, it’s been awhile.
The separation cramps the style.
We will get through, we’re versatile.
That very time when I inhaled your mesmerizing scent,
It reminiscences of you all powerful and sturdy sent.
It seemed to me, abashed, as though away you never went,
But took a refuge near me, arm’s reach, a cozy, fervent tent.
That very time we were to be together soon,
Evoked my tidal waves the presence of your moon.
And raining cats and dogs you brought me a monsoon.
Gone are the barriers and reefs, your sea has flooded my lagoon.
That very time when you came back,
My overworked dejection got the sack.
Existence seized to be all white and black.
You colorized me, for no hues or tinges do I lack.
That very time where’d you been before in my so solitary a life
When plowed a lonely furrow with the soil hard, erosion rife?
Down and out, lived from hand to mouth with all paths leading to strife.
Until you made my efforts fertile, and assisted in the birth of love like a midwife.
That Very Time (3.0)
That very time I pledged an oath and claimed you mine.
I bled for you, a stitch in time could not save nine.
I bet when solitude’s assailing we can hold the line.
To have a crush on you already feels like being on a cloud nine.
I soar into the sky a flying kite, your wind indulges me with such an irresistible addiction.
My wingspan blots the sun, the only light to shine my way you confer on me is a benediction.
A lofty lot to be afloat for so a lot and given free of charge I still believe a work of fiction.
At last the love hatched out all fledged, so rich in spirit and cannot but beggar all description.
The pulse is quickened by you, and my heart sprints on at breakneck speed.
It stomps my chest the way the ground does a wild stampede.
It breaks into a gallop in the fast lane, much like an unbridled steed.
Out-and-outer, unmatched, of feral nature, stately breed.
That very time, so precious to each other, made my blood run cold.
The crimson wine along sapphire veins into the heart of gold.
When feared stiff lest unprotected you encounter troubles manifold.
Out of my watch, having departed from our so steadfast stronghold.
That very time I, fast asleep, is caught off guard by visit thine nocturnal thee pay me.
Your sought endearment dulls the pins and needles, sharpens them the morning comes-you nimbly flee.
The waiting’s hold so hard on me – a captive who’s at large on dreaming spree.
No room to swing a cat among the thoughts of you that strangle to a great degree.
That very time our talks, agglomerated, marched a sharp decline
Along the alleyway of conversations, I could never toe the line.
So many words assembled are adjourned and wither on the vine,
But their harvest time will come, that’s talking turkey, rain or shine.
That very time, my eyes again fixated on the phone…
A mere message from you renders reign of sadness overthrown.
To curb the want of you is getting blood out of a stone.
I’ll spare no pains, I’ll text my fingers to the bone.
That very time the tangible affinity of ours wondered if you really are my flesh and blood…
Its righteousness does stand to reason, for the test of time will nip all doubts in the bud.
You complement me – cleansing water to a sandy shore without which my name is mud.
I’m at the sea about your grandeur waiting for the storm to come and wash away my shame in purging flood.
