The one who did not shoot

*Перевод стихотворения "Тот, который не стрелял" В.С.Высоцкого

  You know I am not kidding, no jokes would here suit.
 Our unit, aimed rifles, at me they were to shoot.
 Why ever was my life path so wicked, tangled well?
 Not saying “I don’t know”, obliged not to tell.

 And my commander nearly saved me,
 But someone still insisted “Execute!”
 The unit followed, as prompt as it could be,
 But one in line decided not to shoot.

 My fate is winding strongly in a strange and dashing way.
 Once I had caught a kraut but he could slip away.
 And commissar Sueatin, the judge of the war time court
 Remembered of my failure and penciled a note.

 He brought to light and showed everyone
 Uncompromising sealed stapled loot.
 And there was nothing anyone could do,
 Except for one, the one, who did not shoot.

 A hand fell to the abyss with foolish sound “Pli!”
 And shooting gave me ticket to the underground world.
 But hear “breathing, bastard… send to infirmary!”
 No second shooting options in the military code.

 The doctor pulled all bullets out and stopped,
 Alive with all these wounds is rare to see.
 And in the shock delirium I spoke
 With guy, the guy, who did not shoot at me.

 Like a dog I licked my wounds and the treatment helped well.
 In hospitals was praised highly by female personnel.
 They all fell in love with me. Believe in it or not.
 “Go to procedure quickly, our dear undershot!“

 Crimea fighting our regiment withstood.
 I sent to my comrades in packs glucose and food
 To sweeten battling with my small input
 For one, that certain one who did not shoot.

 I drank a tea from saucer, by spirit it deluted
 And coped with surviving, saw victory salute.
 Returned to the battalion, “Go fight!” - commander said -
 “Your undershooted status, though, makes me even glad”

 I could be glad, but sat in stumbled mood
 And howled cursing evil destiny.
 A german sniper shot me finally
 By killing one, the one who didn’t shoot.