it was not in my thoughts to copy lyudmila georgievna. of creativity, and my voice is so fucked up. there still here three times in the pskov region. she was here, but we never managed to see each other. on july 1, my birthday, my heart, dear, beloved russian stopped. i'm lying in bed. i have a sluice with hail, therefore, since 2009, i have not celebrated my birthday in my dream came and said that dmitry thank you for singing my songs. i say lyudmila i say, but i am your fan of creativity, how can i sing your songs i word to you dear, not even a scarf heart. yes , my parents love you very much. live long my relatives, do not leave me in this cruel world, but i never thought about living with my parents. what i always had in my first place of work dima in taking care of us all the time is very kind. i really wanted dima to create his own family, so that he would also have. children, probably not met yet. there, as my grandmother said, that each of her has two children on her cross, a song daughter chorus son, while my soul is here on the