очень пошлая картинка истребителя


Not the conquest of the air, but our entry thither.
We come.
Our soiled overalls were the livery of that sunrise.
The soilings of our bodies in its service were prismatic with its light.
Moody or broody.
From ground to air. First we are not earthbound.

In speed we hurl outselves beyond the body.
Our bodies cannot scale the heavens except in a fume of petrol.
The concentration of our bodies in entering a loop.
Bones, blood, flesh all pressed inward together.
Not the conquest of the air. Be plain, guts.
In speed we hurl outselves beyond the body.

We enter it. We come.
Our bodies cannot scale the heavens except in a fume of burnt petrol.
As lords that are expected. Yet there is a silent joy in our arrival.
Years and years.
Long arpeggios of chafing wires.
The concentration of our bodies in entering a loop.


T.E.Shaw (Lawrence)


Мой перевод
Ну так перевод, на самом деле, но было интересно сохранить смысловую двоякость we came, enter и это все

Не покоряя небо, но ступая
всё выше к самым облакам,
мы окрыленные кончаем
наш путь у Господа в руках.

..из бренных тел себя бросая
под гнетом скорости тисков,
мы в штопоре достигнем рая,
освободившись от оков.