Артем Тюльников
Сборник стихов на английском
What can I do but bow, bow-wow to your feet.
I love you more than chicken heads.
For you I have the amour of some newlyweds!
For you I certainly would raise a hearty bowl-like glass
The one with chicken heads but if it’s wine – I’ll pass!
A Teacher’s Bible
A teacher, paradoxically, is not a person who can teach,
But one who practices what he or she has got to preach.
Regardless of the time, the place, the dire circumstance,
Your educational religion never softens a devout stance.
It’s the immaculate confession we cannot but marvel at.
The competence of yours, the capabilities, the intellect.
A miracle of science with so virtuous beliefs to exercise,
A paragon for any academic and a sight for sore eyes.
For the Linguistics University is, doubtless, our church.
Under your leadership we here profess, instruct, research,
Reaching enlightenment – a righteous, so supreme a cause
That with your radiance the rigid winter o’ our hearts thaws.
You opened a new season in the pedagogy with your shine.
It is so great an influence professional, it almost seems divine.
As is our candid faith in you inspired by your flawless creed.
The chair of English flourishes provided you are in the lead.
It blossoms flower-like into a raw, unmatched professionalism.
We’re all its seeds as we accept the pure vegetational baptism.
Stemmed out from you, we grow and bloom all around the clock,
Becoming language flowers with you as the flower of the flock.
Politics But Never Social Ethics
To be Socratic, politics to every citizen alike should be addressed.
But it turns out that some are disconcertingly more equal than the rest.
The notion meant to foster virtue as originally planned, professed
That orphaned into vice and ignorance with most of us oppressed.
With Plato’s justice valuable no more and his Republic, fatherless, just going west,
No one puts social ethics first when talking politics but feathers his own nest.
Second prosperity at lame society’s expense – for this they have a greater zest.
Yet, they forget that hatchlings from such venal cradles are infected with fowl pest.
It plagues even the most fledged countries, acts like an unwelcome rowdy guest,
And penetrates all spheres of life it has no place in with a common sense-proof vest.
The lesser good vested in many are but out of the strive for greater personal success lest
Machiavellian policy should falter, and his Prince meet the demands of citizens with their welfare abreast.
Well, going farther faring worst some might assume our precious souls no longer blessed,
And Nietzsche's death of God at our hands severely renders us unholy, much by barbarism possessed.
There’s something feral in it all – these animals political have gone completely wild and in atrocities invest…
A pride of savage lions taking pride in domination over every other kind, but this is not Darwinian survival of the fittest.
It’s in the nature of the beast that one should be for ethos, moral, sainthood so hard-pressed.
Thus, Dostoevsky’s everything’s permissible without God has definitely stood the test
Of time that says politicized religion’s out there not to be lived by – tolerated, killed for and create social unrest.
Spread terror and impose innocuous beliefs that do have casualties these days – you wish it were a mere jest.
How can one kid about such things, they’re out there with childish follies, frisking, raging at their best.
We should’ve nipped such misdemeanor in the bud, and punished it and devastation and disparity suppressed.
Any authority is built on public ignorance, the latter’s lack of knowledge but explicitly expressed.
We are the sinful architects of own misfortunes as the foundations we abide by can’t hold Bacon’s scientia potentia est.
