At 1942 by Mikhail Ancharov

The parachutes snapped sharpness,

Taking the strain weight.

The earth gave a faint shudder.

And down below—the divisions:

"Edelweiss"

And "Death's Head."

Machine guns howled

Like in the frost bitches,

Pistols fired point-blank visible.

And the dead sun,

Suspended on the shrouds of birches,

Made conversation impossible.

And the Lord said:

"Hey, Gatekeepers!

Throw open the garden gates.

I give the command:

From dawn till dusk here

Let the paratroopers into Paradise."