They’re eight now, we are two. The furball1 layout’s
Not ours, let it be - we’re game!
Serjozha! Hold on, we’ve no chance shining on us
But aces have yet to come square

I won’t be a dot2 in this grid square of heaven
And numbers don’t count for me
Today my true friend is my wingman3 up here
This makes all chances agree

Check six4, there’s a "Messer"5, at last, it caught fire
The props blades wailed their due
They never will need any crosses at graveyards
The crosses on these wings will do!

“Alert6, this is One here7. For bandits8 check belly9
I’ve come up to cut them off track
Quench fire and hawk in the clouds10! I’ll tail you!
No miracles happen in battle!"

Serguey, you’re on fire! Pray, man, or set hopes
At this point on hitting the silk11
Too late now, ahead is "a Messer" for my soul
Adios12, I will meet it at twelve13

I know that others will make it all square
And gliding on clouds as one
Our souls will take off like two fighter jet planes
As they can be never split up

The Archangel tells us: "You’ll sit tight in heaven!"
But after the gates go click
We’ll ask God a favour “Enroll us together
In some Angels Regiment here”

And I will implore Father, Son and the Spirit
To kindly fulfil what I ask
Let my friend forever be my wingman in here
Just like in the combat of last

We’ll ask God for arrows and wings for us both
They need here an angel ace
And if there’re too many of fighters for God
They might make us guardians as well

To guard, after all, is a noble endeavour
While wafting good luck on the wing
To those like we were, me and Serjozha
On earh and in the air.