All language subtitles for Six days of Sistin_2019

The
colours in which we love

are here.

There

and everywhere.

An ember
sparked will softly glow

and fed by fuel will grow and
grow.

I once was cinder sparked by
you.

First timid till the flames then
grew.

And so our start with touch of
dawn

with amber hue for I was drawn

to eyes so welcoming and warm.

I never guessed you'd do me
harm,

like morning glory, love in
June.

The rapture of mid-afternoon.

Romance of which the ancients
wrote,

our passion had no antidote.

And with the dusk, though
scarlet tinged,

our love began to come unhinged.

For clouds arrived which filled
your eyes,

extinguishing bright twilight
skies.

With cold of night came shadows
pall,

And I could not tear down your
wall.

By midnight's hour, the fire was
dead,

mere ashes smouldered in its
stead.

You left, and should you
reappear, I vow to shun you.

Now I fear the very
thing for which I yearn,

one touch and then again,

to burn.

Find me

where the summer breeze is
sighing.

There, time floats me in its
endless sea,

engulfed I am by sweet
tranquillity.

On a lovely esplanade gulls
flying,

a trailing clouds through
azure, wheeling free.

Sun flashes gold its grin,
there you'll find me.

When loves
comes pounding on a drum

it comes on hard and fast and
strong

until two hearts in
sync beat passions song.

Sometimes love
comes clanging down the tracks.

It clashes or it clamours to be
heard.

So as it crosses, meaning it's
obscured.

Other times
loves lurks or it attacks.

Unrequited love can pierce or
burn

until it's ventricle turns into
black.

And then our
times love gently climbs

or eases sure-footed to one's
door

or sweetly seeps the saturated
soul.

It's
strong and yet it's soft.

It doesn't sting or snip.

It listens.

And reverberates the
whispers of the heart.

To hear the surf,

of trill of spring's new birds.

The cat's soft purr or
strong and stirring words.

Endearments whispered,
songs so cute I grin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To see the sun, full
and gorgeous on the sea.

An unexpected rainbow over me.

A moving scene, glad faces of my
kin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To smell a rose, sweet lavender
in bloom.

Popcorn at the movies, favourite
perfume.

Aroma of Mum's cooking once
again.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To taste delicious food when out
to dine.

Ice cream on my tongue,
a lover's mouth on mine.

Cold drinks, desserts
as chocolatey as sin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

I feel a gentle rain,
snowflakes on my nose,

ocean's breeze, the tides,
the sand between my toes.

The place in
which my parents fell in love,

how I got my name, the
chapel they did meet.

And forever was never the same.

Such contemplating
that the poets do.

They sing of God, our spirits to
renew.

With Mother Nature often
there in their tune

and offer up their verses
to the sun and moon.

They praise the sunset over the
blue lake,

while pondering man's
purpose as they ache.

They ache for all that earth can
never be.

Through dreams they've
lost and for humanity.

And when they ache their
words are filled with pain.

Which pour out from their
soul like cleansing rain.

An ember
sparked will softly glow

and fed by fuel will grow and
grow.

I once was cinder sparked
by you, first timid.

Till the flames then grew.

And so I start with touch
of down with amber hue.

For I was drawn to eyes
so welcoming and warm.

I never guessed you'd do me
harm.

Like morning glory, love in
June.

The rapture of mid-afternoon.

Romance of which the ancients
wrote.

Our passion had no antidote.

And with the dusk, though
scarlet tinged,

our love began to come unhinged.

For clouds arrived,
which filled your eyes.

Extinguishing great twilight
skies.

With cold of night became
shadows pall.

And I could not tear down your
wall.

By midnight's hour the fire was
dead.

Mere ashes smouldered in its
stead.

You left,

And should you reappear I vow to
shun you.

Now I fear the very
thing for which I yearn.

One touch,

and then again.

The burn

An ember
sparked will softly glow

and fed by fuel will grow and
grow.

I once was cinder sparked by
you,

first timid,

til the flames then grew.

And so our start was touch
of dawn with amber hue

for I was drawn to eyes
so welcoming and warm.

I never guessed you'd do me
harm,

like morning glory, love in
June.

The rapture of mid-afternoon.

Romance of which the ancients
wrote,

our passion had no antidote.

And with the dusk, though
scarlet tinged,

our love began to come unhinged.

For clouds arrived which filled
your eyes,

extinguishing bright twilight
skies.

With cold of night came shadows
pall,

And I could not tear down your
wall.

By midnight's hour, the fire was
dead,

mere ashes smouldered in its
stead.

You left and should you
reappear,

I vow to shun you.

Now I fear the very
thing for which I yearn,

one touch and then again,

to burn.

An empty field left open and
inviting,

somewhere for us to be we find
exciting.

Unlocked and open, the birth of
freedom.

How could I
not follow,

an angel is Sistine.

How calm she is.

How comforting.

On the other side of my own
fence,

she's the grass most coveted in
green.

In spite of everything with which I'm dealing,

how strangely wonderful I am
feeling.

To find this man in all of
London, seeming so like me,

that deep connection, instant
chemistry.

A stranger, yet a kindred
spirit in his eyes I see.

I lead, he follows.

He doesn't question anything I
say.

His fingers lightly graze my
skin.

Our fingers interlock.

Kindred souls, we sleep inside
the car,

then waken to embrace a
brand-new day.

We drive, we walk, we
have no need to talk,

we simply feel.

Jean Baptiste, there are no
words to say.

At the end of the rainbow,
dreams unfold.

And some people say
there is a pot of gold.

How well I recall a rainbow one
day,

that shone in the sky
when a storm went away.

Rain pelted my car, I felt so
afraid,

but as I neared home it started
to fade.

The sky once so dark
grew more and more blue,

I thrilled next to see
a rainbow arch through.

It bent over towards the
mountains so beautiful.

A peace and great joy
welled up inside my soul.

No pot of gold at the end did I
see.

But still there was
gold and it beckoned me.

The mountains were
gilded with bright gleam.

This is magic that makes poets
dream.

When I got home I took paper to
pen

and wrote of that beauty,
God's promise to men.

Again, I recall how my soul
lifted at the rainbow's end,

God's love gifted.

Life is a
dance we were all born to do.

The style to choose
from are more than few.

Some choose simple two-step,
some move with flair.

Some slow dance, some break
dance, devil may care.

Some freestyle, while
others just dance on cue.

Some tango with zest,
some shuffle soft shoe.

Others glide easily, waltzing on
through.

Some change their partners,
some stay one pair.

Life is a dance.

You start with the styles
in your own milieu.

Then grow as you add
on new moves you view.

You stumble but
sometimes dance on sweet air,

just keep the beat.

Try new steps if you dare.

The way you end up is all up to
you.

Life is a dance.

Life is a dance
we were all born to do.

The styles to choose
from are more than few.

Some choose simple two-step,
and others move with flair.

Some slow dance and break
dance, devil may care.

Some freestyle, while
others just dance on cue.

Some tango with zest,
some shuffle soft shoe.

Others glide easily, waltzing on
through.

Some change their partners,
some stay one pair.

Life is a dance.

You start with styles in your
own milieu.

Then grow as you add
on new moves you view.

You stumble but sometimes
dance on sweet air,

just keep the beat.

Try new steps if you dare.

The way you end up is all up to
you.

Life is a dance.

And so, I think you
should do.

At
last you've come for me,

my love, my sweet.

You've come through tranquil
woodland

with the breeze along that
path where once we used to meet

and with the sunlight
streaming through the trees.

With passion in your
eyes and wings for feet,

you've come for me and
all my anguish please.

You are so near.

I hear your wild heartbeat.

You've come for me.

My own wild heart to seize.

Alas,

the woods have vanished

with the gleam of my waking
dawn.

It was but a dream.

To hear the surf or trill
of spring's new birds,

the cat's soft purr or
strong and stirring words,

endearments whispered,
songs so cute I grin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To see the sun fall gorgeous on
the sea.

An unexpected rainbow over me.

A morning scene, glad faces of
my kin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To smell a rose, sweet lavender
in bloom.

Popcorn at the movies, favourite
perfume.

Aroma of Mum's cooking once
again.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To taste delicious food when out
to dine.

Ice cream on my tongue.

A lover's mouth on mine.

Cold drinks, desserts
as chocolatey as sin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To feel a gentle rain,
snowflakes on my nose,

oceans breeze, the tides,

the sand between my toes.

The sun's warmth.

The heat of passion on my skin.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

To feel inside me such a happy
glow

that it radiates to everyone I
know.

The love that lets me
know life is win-win.

My heart sings out as joy wells
up within.

Yes, love is even
truer

when we see past the
frailties accepting all.

Our dog and cat friends
don't mind if we have flaws.

Real love means breaking down
the walls.

The friends who we hold
close to us are those

who love us as we are.

But there is too a love that
happens, suddenly and grows.

Dawn overtaking night
as it bursts through.

Love's every colour ought to
offer peace,

like lover's sweethearts
or of a man and a wife.

But even those desires we know
most cease,

are unexpected sunbursts in our
life.

Sistine, I
thank you for your gifts to me.

I needed some assurance and
in that way uniquely yours,

you showed me what to do.

You helped me to escape
predictability.

If not for you, I'd
have not been set free.

My simple gift, Sistine,
is a red rose for you.

He shines like
silver moonlight moon,

cool marble statue, this tycoon.

And though he makes the ladies
swoon,

of ice he's hewed, of ice he's
hew.

He's poker faced and
can deceive competitors

and can achieve most anything.

But can't conceive of
Genevieve, of Genevieve.

Like Neptune, distant from the
Sun,

relationships he chose to shun.

He thought the search for love
was done.

He has no one, he has no one.

Now, love's allure has come his
way.

What will he do?

What will he say?

Will he grab hold, beg love to
stay?

Or let it stray, or let it
stray?

This dragoness disguised in
lace,

passion's flower, with angel's
face.

Precisely picks the time and
place,

each dream to chase, each dream
to chase.

Like ink, the colour red
she stains the hearts

of those whose love she drains.

And then she leaves with nought
remains,

no lush she feigns; no lush she
feigns.

And now there's one who would
suffice

for him alone she'd
sacrifice, her everything.

So he of ice she must
entice, she must entice.

So Genevieve now strikes the
flame,

will man of ice his love
proclaim.

Beneath her fire and his cold
frame,

they're both the same,
they're both the same.

Another year has come,
chillingly,

and more chillingly for me
than in decades heretofore.

I watch and ranting from
my window as I recall.

The year already past has tugged
me

from those tame and toasty days

when I lay face up to the sun,

dreaming that my summer would
never end.

It brought me to this winter,

when it withered up and
died and half a century

and more of memories had
fallen from me by now.

Like pretty crystal flakes they
fell,

drifting through my mind.

Places, events and people,

all those people I
looked up to in my youth,

fallen as the snow.

How many pretty snowflakes
have melted away.

Only my memories of them remain.

Memories now piled up like
snowdrifts in my brain.

Yes, the newborn year has
arrived,

just one month old already,
it has lost it's cruel.

This infant's ageing process
paralleled on the larger scale,

that fleeting span of time known
as life.

A time all the living undergo.

The new year carries on as must
we all.

To soon complete its cycle.

Let it blister, let it wail.

Let it rattle at my door,

for soon enough all
signs of it will cease.

On you the
angels did bestow a glow,

your friends would come
to know as star shine.

For even stars cannot
outshine your countenance.

It's as divine as starlight.

Oh, how you hush those stars my
dear,

from brightly shining when you
are near.

As starstruck, I too am
stricken by your sight.

I'd love to be with you
all night to stargaze.

Shine on sweet man, but do
not burn to long or strongly.

The stars might turn to
stardust.

Tried you a few
times but, I can't get through.

It hovers
here, the moon opaque,

obscuring mountain trails I
take.

No other living things appear.

A moon opaque, it hovers here.

I follow, along a ledge.

Below a swirling river's edge.

In front of me, the canyon's
yawn.

Along a ledge, I follow on.

I see no hue when fog congeals.

Oh, doom of one who no more
feels.

The moon has fled and so have
you.

When fog congeals I see no hue.

Now all is dim, it matters not.

My dear one's heart, I have not
got.

No use in living without him.

It matters not.

Now all is dim.

At peace I'll be if I should
fall

to murky water from this wall.

Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me.

If I should fall,

at peace I'll be.

It hovers
here, the moon opaque,

obscuring mountain trails I
take.

No other living thing appear.

A moon opaque, it hovers here.

I follow, along a ledge.

Below a swirling river edge.

In front of me, the canyon's
yawn.

Along a ledge, I follow on.

I see no hue when fog congeals.

Oh, doom of one who no more
feels.

The moon has fled and so have
you.

When fog congeals I see no hue.

Now all is dim, it matters not.

My dear one's heart, I have not
got.

No use in living without him.

It matters not.

Now all is dim.

At peace I'll be if I should
fall

to murky water from this wall.

Oh, yawning canyon, swallow me.

If I should fall, At peace I'll
be.

He wanted
to step up and be a man.

He didn't realise he didn't have
too.

His mind filled with such
fantasy,

when all he needed was self-respect for the things he has.

A punch, a hit of realisation.

He needed to reassure
himself of his choice,

his need to further his life
and not live in fantasy.

This man, this Buck,

this threatening figure
imposing opposition

to his need for escape.

Words I've never spoken,
are those I'll never write,

like words I might recall,
the glow I felt when night,

one choice, lifetime's
fragment I took for paradise.

The time for which my memory
alone could not suffice.

One summer's whispered
end, your feel, your touch,

your scent, your lashes on my
cheek, the pure enrapturement.

Your hands and hair like silk,
your pause to gaze on me,

they seem more an illusion
now than past reality.

Words I've never spoken or
those words I'll never write.

Like words that might recall
the glow I felt when night,

no words can bring to life
the fleeting ghost of you.

You haunt my empty hours,
there's nothing I can do.

For if you think of me,
I guess I'll never know.

And how you made me thrill
no words can ever show.

Words I've never spoken
are those I'll never write,

like words that might recall
the glow I felt one night.

You didn't try to fix me, Jean
Baptiste.

You let me fall into
your arms releasing pain.

How patient you have been, how
very sweet.

A stronger woman I have become.

Since knowing you I've
learned to kiss the rain

and in my dreams, Jean-Baptiste,
I'll see you again.

Like
multi-colored flowers

in the wild love blossoms
in a vast array of hues.

What joy the mother feels
when her sweet child

inside her arms looks up at her
and coos.

How necessary is this first
deep bond, to everyone.

It nourishes the heart.

- Okay go and say hello to
mummy, go on

- Going to say hello to me.

For
as the child matures,

he sees beyond familial bonds.

Love's landscape is our art.

Tell Mummy how happy
you are to have her home.

In soft or
brilliant colours we choose

to paint the different forms
of it that we may find.

And love may be a harlot or a
saint.

But when it's true,

it chooses to be blind.

Hey, hey.

Oh.

What's that, being noisy.

In solitude
I watch the clear, blue sky.

Leaves flutter on the grand,
majestic oak

beneath which I'm sitting.

Swallows fly around me swooping.

Now I hear a croak.

A sound that I am sure I'd never
hear

if I were on a busy city street.

I stand and walk around.

The sound is near.

The feeling that I get is rather
sweet

and finally I spot there on the
pond,

a tiny frog that's serenading
me.

I've been thinking
that.

Crops
rippling in the breeze.

I see beyond my shaded spot.

I soon must leave my tree.

At sunset I've watched before I
creep

into the quiet of night
and back home to sleep.

Words I've never spoken,
or those I'll never write.

Like words that might recall
the glow I felt one night.

One choice, lifetimes
fragment I took for paradise.

The time for which my
memory alone cannot suffice.

One summer's whispered end.

Your feel, your touch,

your scent.

Your lashes on my cheek,
the pure enrapturement.

Your hands and hair are like
silk.

Your pause to gaze on me.

You seem more an illusion
now than past reality.

Words I've never spoken
are those I'll never write.

Like words that might recall
the glow I felt one night.

No words can bring to life
the fleeting ghost of you.

You haunt my empty hours.

There's nothing I can do
for if you think of me,

I guess I'll never know

and how you made me thrill
now words can ever show.

He saw what he
wanted to see,

these men his ultimate enemy.

For they were not there for me.

This man, singular, I hope
some forgiveness he'll give me.

His car returned, peace, I think
he'll be.

- So this is a new client for
our business

and they are bringing a
new rebranding project

to our business.

They're looking at rolling
out a very marketing brand

of peace and serenity,

nice of you to join us.

John, this is Buck, Buck this is
John.

So they're looking at a
very blended approach.

They need strong commonsense
mind you.

So they've already come up
with some initial themes,

some of those themes,
child, dove, peace, serenity

If you come across we can talk

about some of the strategies
and where they come for it.

Buck I would like you to
take a bit of a lead on this

At peace
I'll be if I should fall,

to murky water from this wall.

Oh, yawning canyon, swallow
me, if I should fall.

At peace I'll be.

I didn't know Sistine at all

when I first saw her
reading on the park bench.

How can I explain all that she's
been

in what were six days
of Sistine have meant.

We bared the purest part of
ourselves to one another.

Whatever happens in my
future there will be no other

whom I will look back
on with such tenderness.

Thank you.

Hey Hon, I'm back.

I hope you had a few good days
without me.

I tried calling a few times
but I can't get through.

I hope it's okay I called your
work phone.

Look, I've been thinking

that the Courtyard is
gonna be fully booked

for months on end

and so I think we should
take the Ivy while we can.

Dad said he'd front the deposit

so at least we know that
the reception will be shared

with all our friends.

Also, you need to get fitted for
your tux,

so let me know and I'll arrange
for you.

Oh, and the cake, decide on a
cake,

will you, please.

I've sent you many
photos so please decide.

Love ya.

Oh how I love
my time with Jean-Baptiste.

An attractive man, well suited
I first could see the epitome

of someone regimented in his
thinking.

But in the din of city life,
Jean Baptiste was sinking.

Despite all that, I could see at
least

there was a spark in him, and in
a while,

this man once quiet and
withdrawn,

brought my soul to life and made
me smile.

He looked about for something
that he could not find.

But it was there before him all
the time.

With freedom and a
newly born tranquillity,

he found his own truth.

How trusting and how sweet is
he.

This kindred spirit, who like
me,

needed comfort in our
mutual search for clarity.

I needed you, you needed me.

And when I saw your face,
tranquillity enveloped me.

Thank you dear for being there.

Thank you for your grace.

- I love you.

- No you don't.

I was just good for you
and you were good for me.

We helped each other
realise what was important.

That sometimes moments of
reinvention are a good thing.

Helps you realise who you really
are.

- No.

Love is like a colour wheel,
Sistine.

The way we feel about our
family,

the way we feel about our
partner,

the way we feel lust.

Monotony

Passion.

Desire.

Comfortability.

Friendship, trust.

- To me love is not just one
thing.

- Different love is like
colours,

you and I just found the one
that matched at the right time.

- In that case,

I love you.