Текст песни Игорь Тальков - Памяти всех безвременно ушедших.

Poets are not born by chance
They fly to the ground from a height
Their lives are surrounded by a profound mystery
Although they are open and simple.
The eyes of the divine messengers
Always sad and true dream
And in the chaos of the problems, their souls the eternal light
Worlds that are lost in the dark.

They go, doing the job
They recall the higher worlds.
Unknown to our consciousness
According to the rules of the game space.
They leave no verse Dopiewo
When in their honor orchestra plays a flourish
Actors, musicians and poets
Healers are tired of our souls.

In the forests of bird songs was finishing
In the fields for their flowers wreaths sovyut
They go the distance, but never die
And in the songs and poems of their lives.
And maybe today or tomorrow
I'll go and mysterious messenger
Wherever gone, passed away suddenly
Poet and composer Viktor Tsoi.