There are eight opponents, and I with my special friend, It seems that we’re through with our stars. Seryozha, hold on! it’s not our game at present, So we should equate the trump cards. They’ll never force me to abandon the sphere, Their number doesn’t matter to me: My friend and companion shields me from the rear, And therefore the chances are even. A “Messerschmitt” chased me, then started to smoke, Its screws hacked the air with a bell. They even need not crosses upon their long homes, The ones on their wings will go well! I’m “first”, be attentive! two “Heinkels” are o’er thee, I’ve started to close their path! Go into the clouds, beat the fire, I’ll preserve thee! When fighting, don’t hope for marvels. Sergey, thou’rt on fire! set thy hopes for now Upon thy successful chuting, man. Oh, damn it! a “Messerschmitt” storms me, and how! God bless thee, I’m going to ram!.. I know that others will pay for our trouble... But, having left down the clouds, Just as two our planes that were flying in couple, Our souls will advance up and up. Saint Peter will say that our guerdon awaits us, But as soon as he shuts the gate, We’ll ask of the Father, “Do us a high favor: Take us to a battle group of angels.” And I’ll ask of Him, as a son of his father, To give me His merciful sanction To make my companion the one of all others For shielding my rear in actions. We’ll ask wings and bows of our Heavenly Father, An ace sees himself but in heaven... But if there’s no shortage of warrior brothers, He’ll let us be guardians then. To guard is a heavily honorable service, We’ll carry good luck on our wings To such ones as were I and my friend Seryozha, When ’mongst living people were we.
© Akbar Muhammad. Translation, 2015