Смерть истребителя -пер. В. Высоцкого

The death of the fighter
by Vladimir Vysotsky

I'm "Yak".
I'm the fighter.
My motor is ringing.
And sky is my dwelling, undoubtly.
He who inside me is sitting,
Considers him as the fighter.

Last fighting I was so successful enough:
I had "Yunkers" one,
being shot.
He who is sitting in me inside
Has bothered me, and a lot.

Last fighting I was stiched through as the sieve,
Long I was darned by mechanic.
He who is sitting today inside me,
Forces to get into a spin now.

From flying bomber the bomb the death brings
To aerodrome.
The stabilizer is seeming to sing:
"Pi-i-i-i-ece to your home!"

And here is "Messersmidt", flying from back,
I'm tired, I'll go away.
He who is sitting inside me, as mad
Is going to attack ram.

What he is doing? It'll be the explosion!..
But then I'll not burn on sand, -
And overcoming all bans of speed motions
I'm diving from heaven to land.

I'm - the chief. And by back -let I be burned!
Where is my supporting?
Here it is... Got to smoking, sings with nod:
"Pi-i-i-i-ece to your home!"

And he, who is sitting in my skull was sure,
He is alone and messed.
He had deceived me, he turned to a swoop -
Straight from "the death loop" end.

He pulls to him - and the load is double.
Why he considers him ace?!
But I'm obeying him, again and again,
But that will be thus for the last.

I shan't be servant, I swear this time,
It better to lie in the ground.
He doesn't hear, that I'm to die,
Benzine - my blood - is now out.

And patience also has now end,
His time is completed at last.
He who was sitting in me, turned his face
And close to wind-plexiglas.

He's killed, I'm happy, I'm flying so light,
I'm burning my power last.
But what is this? Really is this a
dive?
I can't from this fall go out!

It's vexing, that I was such hard to success,
Let other one get the luck much more.
And hear, I'm also singing the air:
"Pi-i-i-i-ece to your home!"