Caught up in the whole war, I felt a pull towards home,
And though I was excited, I fought very businesslike.
But he hurried, and somehow once he didn’t jump,
And wrapped up in the tug-of-war, for two years a whole lot of nothing.

No more did I hear his pulse
in the spring of ’43,
So, I slipped
into my pre-war dreams,

And I may look like a fool,
but I breath heavily.
He was better, nicer,
but I was lucky.

I didn’t live behind the dug-out, didn’t drink tea with the chief,
I didn’t ask to go to the rear, nor sought destiny beneath a hem-line,
Though women silently hinted to me when me met:
If you could remain forever, perhaps mine would come back.

For me their sad question
isn’t a riddle,
Obviously I don’t rejoice
that the others didn’t make it.

I came up with this answer:
"Pardon me that I’m still in one piece,
I made it back accidentally, I returned,
but he didn’t know how."

In parting he screamed from the burning aircraft:
"Live, you’ll pull through", - reached me through the rumble.
We flew under God, right up there by paradise,
He flew a bit higher and landed there, while I reached for the earth.

The heavenly aerodrome
met the pilot,
He lay on his belly,
but he didn’t crawl on it,

He fell asleep and didn’t wake up,
he began to sing but didn’t finish,
So I came back, I returned,
but he didn’t know how.

I’m forever guilty in front of the ones
Whom I’d consider it an honor to meet today.
But nonetheless we the living flew to the end,
Our memory burns and our consciences torment, those of us who have one.

Someone sparingly and clearly
counted out the hours
In our lives, short
like a strip of concrete.

And on it, some crashed,
some flew off forever.
But I landed, but I landed,
now that’s the misfortune.