That guy who hadn t shot

I do not dupe you anything. It is not old works.
I had been shot with rifles at o-six o’clock.
How have I got this baleful, incongruous wrong way?
I can’t say, “I don’t know”. I simply mustn’t say.

And my commander tried to bring me off.
But somebody has pressed for fusillade.
At once all barrels dented plumbum balls,
But one man kept in rifle deadly lead.

My rakish doom distorted far back in my foretime.
An information prisoner escaped, when he was mine.
Comrade Suetin saw it, and noticed it with pen.
And then he had remembered that accident again.

He found and he brought his old briefcase.
He had arranged and he had shown that note.
And no one could help me in that case…
No, one man helped. That guy who hadn’t shot.

With stupid shout “fire” commander’s hand fell down.
Discharge had made me shudder and dropped me to the ground.
But I hear, “He is breathing. Take him to ambulance.
According to the order we must shoot only once.”

A surgeon used to clatter by the tongue,
And he removed the bullets from the sores.
But when I was in raving on the quiet
I had a talk with guy who hadn’t shot.

I licked my cuts like hound. I didn’t treat my hurts.
However, in the hospital I was told fair words.
The weaker sex had given me an amorous look,
Hey, you, not shooted man, let’s go to the prick.

Our regiment was fighting in Crimea.
I sent fruitsugar to one guy by post.
I wanted life to be not so bitter...
“To whom?” you ask. That guy who hadn’t shot.

I had tea from a saucer. I had an alcohol.
I did not died at front line up to the end of war.
I was send to old body. Commander said me, “Fight!
And what about shooting, I’m glad that you’re all right!”

I would be glad but when I’d sat on stock
I damned hell and heavens and my lot.
A german sniper killed me like a dog,
When he killed guy that guy who hadn’t shot.