The bright memory of all who died in the crash.
A poem about hockey players - found in nete.
(By Victor Bykov)
"Do not pour out all my sorrow free,
Shook my pencil in hand.
Black with unimaginable pain
The ancient city on the Volga River ...
All are equal: beginners and champions ...
Czech, Slovak, Belarusian and Latvian,
Russian-Swedish-Canadian groans
The whole planet hear today ...
I'm ready to cry with all
God interrupted the winning flight.
Forty-three young Yaroslavl
Do not take off and not come out on the ice ...
May the Lord hear our prayer
And will let the cup of Heaven
Waiting for you in Paradise hockey fight
And your rival - Air Force Club.
There you will meet the Beavers and Tarasov,
And the fees will be bolted,
Cherepanov with Kharlamov once
Suppose your firm will join the staff.
Will fight, not a pity,
In Yaroslavl, they are loved and welcome.
Quick Marek give in lard,
And stands in rapture vzrevut!
Be, of course, you first place
And another not to know you since
In the stands, "Torino", "Manchester"
Will support you and the club "Pakhtakor" ...
Like a needle plunged into the heart
In the hearts of Russian desperation itching.
All of Russia is similar to the Volga,
Tears flow of Russian Volga ...
Let know, that certainly die
I am one of the inscribed days.
How will part with the spirit of mortal body,
The first thing to go to hockey ... "
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