Pamatce naseho milovaneho otce, 
  
                                                                                                pana   Gustava Nezvala

                                                                                                   Mlady par dite opatrne chova, 
                                                                                                   novy vek cita sedmy dil, 
                                                                                                   vblizku jiz zare Halleyova, 
                                                                                                   kdo stastneji se narodil ? 

                                                                                                   Nez pise svet osmnacteho, 
                                                                                                   rve ale valka detska leta 
                                                                                                   a chlapec ztraci otce sveho; 
                                                                                                   snad proto, ze vlasatice odleta ? 

                                                                                                   Kometa v prostoru se ztraci, 
                                                                                                   lhostejnym dalkam je uz bliz, 
                                                                                                   muz v slovu citi inspiraci 
                                                                                                   nez na nebeske klenbe spis. 
 
                                                                                                   Mlady muz o nicem nesni 
                                                                                                   nez obecenstvu celem stat 
                                                                                                   a svym vlastnim tónem pisni 
                                                                                                   vyzyvat vlasatici na navrat. 

                                                                                                   A vskutku, zaplavi jej zar, 
                                                                                                   vsak neprileta - vlasatice, 
                                                                                                   to jeho pani duseplna tvar 
                                                                                                   mu zari stotisickrat vice. 

                                                                                                   Nebylo treba jiz vlasatice, 
                                                                                                   jiz ne jen jednou spatrit smel, 
                                                                                                   pokorne vzhlizel v bozske lice 
                                                                                                   a cestou svou ted klidne spel. 

                                                                                                   Ve svem kroku vzprimenem 
                                                                                                   se nikdy ega nebyl ptat, 
                                                                                                   proc vzdy a jen chtel slouzit vsem, 
                                                                                                   jez ze srdce mel vroucne rad. 
 
                                                                                                   Posledni slova - nemaji stani : 
                                                                                                   Jakkoli svet Tvou cestu zvazi, 
                                                                                                   nam, dojatym, dik hlavu sklani, 
                                                                                                   a Tam ? - nam ptat se nenalezi. 

                                                                                                    I slov ted musime se zrici, 
                                                                                                    dluh zadna slova nesplati, 
                                                                                                    jsi nam - jedinou vlasatici, 
                                                                                                    jez s oci se jiz  n e z t r a t i ! 
 

                                                                                        20.9.1998                         Jiri a Petr  Nezvalovi