The high carelessness of love …

Dear Sanya!

Congratulations on your birthday! You can write legends about you, devote you to ode, but you do not need it, because you are a legend! A legend and an ode to the talent that has broken through all the barriers and complexities of being. You have amazingly absorbed the special aroma and spirit of the “grandmother’s little town” with its elusive charm and the constant taste of tragedy, accessible only to the description of the pen by Sholom Aleichem, the brush of Marc Chagall and the violin by David Oistrakh.

It is impossible not to admire you as a father, grandfather and, of course, a husband (for which Lyudochka laid a monument in his lifetime). But you have one more quality, less and less common in our today – you know how to be friends!
Health and happiness to you, our wonderful and loyal friend!

Your AiSt Hofeld


P.S. Many years ago I dedicated a little poem to you, which I now added in a few lines.

* * *

To Sasha Korotko

По обе стороны разлуки,
По обе стороны любви
Сердца доныне терпят муки,
Беды не в силах отвести.

Кричат, как птицы,
Стремясь друг с другом
слиться вновь,
И в небо взмыв, навеки тонут
В реке дурманной вечных снов.

И снятся им дела земные,
Весенний шелест ветерка,
Глаза любимыe, родные,
В руке заветная рука.

И пробивается сквозь

Судьбе и бедам вопреки,
Любви высокая беспечность,
Как грозы, как разлив реки.