Lyubomir Guzar has died. There is only Lina Kostenko.

You know, the notion of "moral authority of the nation" does not require detailed knowledge of the subject.

For most of us, the Monk Guzar was represented in the form of such a kind grandfather-God: glasses, a kind smile and wise words - honestly on the heart, hardly we all listened attentively to his instructions: he admired the minute - switched: it's simply warm because someone warm And the wise man takes care of you: like Father Frost.

With Lina Kostenko the same story - no one really knows her poetry: so, some stunning snatches. But she in itself - the famous coachmen, burning eyes and a superhuman, unorthodox look - that's enough: she is, she is alive, she knows about us - and it's fine: as a common mother - warm and cozy, under the wing.

It's terrible that no one comes in return:

they all grow thin, grow young, get into poses, no one really suits - he went to the officials, he dies from his own greatness, this one is generally pop.

I once wrote: it's terrible when there is trouble in front of you - you expect that someone will push you away, little child, and everything will decide: someone will come to the rescue - a strong, adult.

You look back - there's nobody: and you're an adult.

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