Текст песни Илья Иванов - Владимир Цыбин. Нежность. Стихи

May I not be more tender
after all, the meeting hour is so short.
I even with my tenderness
and then I'm afraid to offend you.
And the stars are pouring - they won't fall
and even though you are slightly chilled,
but to touch your shoulders,
the hand does not rise.
And I hesitate on an April evening,
sometimes throwing into chills,
cover chilled shoulders,
careless hollow.
And you, because I am timid,
forgive me.
At this hour
I even with my tenderness
and then I'm afraid to offend you.