Текст песни Сергей Лукьяненко - Человек, который многого не умел

He did not know how much, but he could light the stars. After all, the most
beautiful and bright stars sometimes go out, and if one night we don’t see
in the sky of stars, we will be a little sad ... And he lit the stars very much
skillfully, and this was his consolation. Someone should be engaged in this work, someone
should freeze, looking for the extinguished star in the clouds of cosmic dust, and
then burn, igniting it with flames brought from others
stars, hot and strong. Of course, it was a difficult job, and he
long put up with the fact that many do not know how. But once, when the stars led
quieter, he decided to rest. Descended to Earth, walked along the soft
the grass (it was a city park), looked at the sky just in case ...
The stars winked encouragingly from above, and he calmed down. Did some more
steps - and saw her.
     “You look like the most beautiful star,” he said. - You're more beautiful
all stars.
     She was very surprised. No one ever said such words to her. & quot; you
cute & quot ;, - said one. & quot; I drag you from & quot ;, said another. And the third
the most romantic of all, he promised to take her to the blue sea, according to which
sailing white sailboat ...
     “You are more beautiful than all the stars,” he repeated. And she could not answer
it is not so.
     A small house on the outskirts of the city seemed to him the most wonderful
palace in the universe. After all, they were there together ...
     - Do you want me to tell you about the stars? he whispered. - About Fomalgaut,
shaggy, like an orange kitten, about Vega, bluish and burning,
like a piece of red-hot ice, about Sirius, woven like a garland,
of three stars ... But you are more beautiful than all the stars ...
     “Speak, speak,” she asked, catching the tip of his fingers, hot,
like a flame ...
     - I will tell you about all the stars, about large and small, about those
who have big names, and about those who have only modest numbers in
catalog ... But you are more beautiful than all the stars ...
     - Speak ...
     - Polar Star told me about travels and travelers, about
the roar of the sea waves and the whistle of the cold blizzards of the Arctic, about the sails ringing
from the blows of the winds ... You will never be sad when I'm around.
Just be with me, because you are more beautiful than all the stars ...
     - Speak ...
     - Altair and Hamal told me about scientists and commanders, about secrets
East, about the forgotten arts and ancient sciences ... You will never be
it hurts when I'm around. Just be with me, because you are the most beautiful
stars ...
     - Speak ...
     - Star Barnada told me about the first star ships racing
through the cosmic cold of metal crushed by a meteor
years in steel walls and the first moments in alien, dangerous and disturbing
the worlds ... You will never be lonely when I'm around. Just be with
me, you are more beautiful than all the stars ...
     She sighed, trying to escape from the captivity of his words. And asked:
     - What can you do?
     He started, but did not lose heart.
     - Look out the window.
     A moment and a star flashed in the black void. She was so far away that
It seemed like a point, but he knew that it was the most beautiful star in the world (not
considering, of course, the one that pressed against his shoulder). A thousand planets circled
around the star in an impossible, incredible dance, and every planet bloomed
gardens and roaring seas, and beautiful people bathed in warm lakes, and magical
the birds sang quiet songs, and the crystal waterfalls rang on the sparkling
gems stones ...
     “A star in the sky ...” she said. - It seems it was not there before, but
However, I am not sure ... And what can you do?
     And he did not answer.
     “How are we going to live,” she reasoned out loud. - In this old
a house where there is not even a gas stove ... And you do not know how to do anything
do...
     “I will learn,” he almost shouted. - Required! Only believe me!
     And she believed it.

     He no longer lights the stars. He learned a lot to do, works
astrophysicist and earns well. Sometimes when he goes to the balcony,
he becomes sad for a moment, and he is afraid to look at the sky. But
stars are not getting smaller. Now they are ignited by someone else, and not bad
lights up ...
     He says he is happy, and I believe in it. In the morning, while the wife is still sleeping,
He goes to the kitchen, and silently becomes at the stove. The slab is not connected to either
what kind of balloons, just two little stars burn in it, its wedding
present.
     One bright, white, hissing, like electric welding, and spitting
prominences, very hot. A kettle on it boils for a half minutes.
     The second is quiet, calm, similar to a wad of red wool, in which
stuck a light bulb. It is convenient to warm yesterday's soup and chops from
the fridge.
     And the worst thing is that he is really happy.