Time steadily passes the river,
on rifts thread often is torn.
Sometimes we remember, but we don't remember
about those who can't be forgotten in any way.

It is impossible to forget, and still we forget
we are looks, such family.
And meetings with them only in a dream happen,
and I weepingly peer into them.

Without remembering the evil, they on us don't grumble,
are always ready to forgive us for everything.
It is much simpler to act rashly knots,
what to connect the broken-off thread by.

What a pity that before seldom we communicated.
The course of time won't turn back.
So left: too early we have left,
here and questions there is nobody to ask.