this year, on november 1, nedogonov celebrates his 110th birthday, and neshubin was the same age.n ask. and now about shubin. end of story: on march 14, 1951, he turned 37 years old. on april 10 , 1951, he went to buy cigarettes. i sat down on a bench in the park behind the current tsum, he squinted and looked at the cold and still april sun. he lit a cigarette, placing his hand on the back of the bench. the cigarette smoked faintly between his fingers. someone passing by asked him for a light. the cigarette was smoldering, but he was already dead. the ambulance arrived and took him away. the dead poet, the cigarette was lying at the bench, it had already smoldered while it was being loaded, what can i say finally: the flight of blades, fires, blazing, my fate, not a memory, we got confused in the dark-haired nights, counted the stars in the quiet reaches, listened to the swans of the nazarenes, everything heavy loyalty, male, all the fury of the attack, all with longing, we remembered our dear ones, without any pretense , choking on tears in the darkness, sadly kissing the horses