Source.

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/ The bright memory of my stepfather -

From his poetic heritage /

Source. What is it?

This place cannot be found on the map.

Only old -timers remember that village.

From Kilemar five miles.

Here people lived, bread, children raised.

But such times came.

The villagers parted in Russia.

The village was empty, died.

But still, after all, there is something like that

Because of what to leave a sorry space.

This Duma does not give rest.

Overgrown, forgotten earth.

There is nothing more expensive.

Where he once went barefoot.

Where they say: "Smoke is sweet to us ..."

And yet.

The source of me to be fed up.