By Arkady Belkin
They pass away - the best of bests,
As if they are by God selected...
They fly away - behind the tempest,
Behind the theshold impercrptible.
And there remain alone - relatives
Of those passed, their close friends,
And also - the happy memory
Of life, of role, of success.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem