Мой человек умеет видеть звезды,Но

Мой человек умеет видеть звезды,
Но редко мне об этом говорит.
В душе поэт, но больше любит прозу,
Он знает все, хотя простак на вид.
Мой человек порой слегка печален
И прячет взгляд за ширмой облаков,
Тогда встаю я за его плечами,
Целую в бледность трепетных висков.
Мой человек смеется горькой правдой
И держит нараспашку свою грудь,
Он так умеет оказаться рядом,
Когда нет сил ни плакать, ни вздохнуть.
Мой человек так много-много значит,
Так много я могу о нем сказать,
Он где-то между счастьем и удачей,
Он очень глубоко в моих глазах.
И пусть за горизонтом будет старость,
И пусть мечты растают словно дым,
Но как бы эта жизнь не изменялась,
Мой человек останется моим.

Results (English) 1:

My man knows how to see the stars,But rarely speaks to me about it.In the soul of a poet, but more likes prose,He knows everything, while the simpleton look.My man is sometimes slightly sadAnd hides glance behind the curtain of cloudsThen I get up for his shoulders,A whole in the pallor of trepetnyh temples.My man laughs the bitter truth And keeps hanging open its chestHe knows how to sit,When no strength nor cry nor breathe.My man so many meansSo much I can say about itHe is somewhere between happiness and good luck,He's very deeply in my eyes.And let over the horizon will be old age,And let dreams will melt like a smoke,But how would this life has not changed,My man will remain mine.

Results (English) 2:

My man is able to see the stars,
but rarely I talk about it.
In my heart a poet, but loves prose,
he knows everything, even a simpleton looking.
My man sometimes a little sad
and hides the eyes behind a screen of clouds,
then I get up behind him,
Kisses in the pale quivering temples.
My man laughing bitter truth
and keeps unbuttoned his chest,
He knows how to be close,
when there is no power or cry or breathe.
My man so much, much,
much I can say about him,
he is somewhere -That between happiness and good luck,
he is very deep in my eyes.
And let the horizon to retirement,
and let the dream melted like smoke,
but as if this life is not changed,
my people will be mine.

Results (English) 3:

My man knows how to see stars,
but rarely me about this said.
in the shower the poet, but also more loves golden ratio,
he knows all, although простак to view.
my people sometimes slightly sad
and hides its view for the mask clouds,
Then I catch for his shoulders,
a whole in pale face witnessed трепетных sideburns.
my people laughing bitter truth
and keeps five centimes on its chest,
it is good to be near,
when there is no force nor crying, nor sigh.
My people so many-to-many means,
so much I can say about it,
it somewhere between happiness and luck,
he is very deeply in my eyes.
and let the horizon will be senility,
and let dreams will melt like smoke,
But how would this life is not changed,
my people will continue to be my.