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Text -Yuri Panyushkin - the memory of writers and poets who returned from emigration and died in the Stalinist camps (1991)

- Where did you circle, my falcon?

What did you see than the earth is red?

- I saw the edge like this:

Whatever day - summer and spring ...

- Well, back, my falcon?

Look: the arrows are already a butt to the shoulder ...

- A bullet that under the wing

From my own, tea, I will not get ...

Not February will swim

Above the ground and over the blank.

Not the soul will howl

Above yourself, over a fasting.

- My falcon, it hurts to sing,

Fly away, for a long time until winter ...

- Teach how to take off

With broken wings ...

1991