Blood of Azers and Hungarians in your vessels. This way you were a great, right Hungarian. Loved, adored, embraced by Budapest, ’szalka, Túristvándi, Kisar, Nagyar and the rest. You’ve got a great role from the stage director There above, heavy-grave role of the Right Man. Hard rule and hard role for the Chosen One To live and love in acts of deadly short time span. You played the boy set out to try his luck Dressed in hopes and prayers of those stay’d home Plays and memories of yours now miss to find their cease Even if the battles you not all and not always has won. You wanted to be a comedian of heart and soul You really were it, my friend, and past tense awfully hurts A right-hand bend on the road, the prompter failed to warn you Curtain came too early – it freezes , it burns. The cave of absence can’t be embraced You left everything and everyone Thank you for the gifts you left, but the abyss is gaping Our honest and great plans remained undone. You inspired and boosted your grateful public Giving them much more than you – never – asked for Your earthly high-speed flight was a flaming flash in day and night That lighted up fires of love and friendships’ warmth. You always took seriously all your roles When being complimented, you modestly showed to us Just a smile, just a reserved delight The treasure chest of kindness got filled more and more up. Vugi, you were for us the One Right Man Friend, playmate and of philantropists a right kind We are stunned, weeping, our souls feel cold The graveyard tries to rob you from our heart and mind. Keep on playing there above the roles you will get Be Hemingway’s wise fisherman on heaven’s sea You will remain for us a true friend and playmate Now go, the stars in your eyes we will always see.