It was his seventy-seventh jump.
The ancient Cessna rumbled loudly.
They checked their gear
and willed their nerves to be deceived.
All shutes did open, what a sight!
Except for one, and desperation
was written on the Para's face.
And no one else could hear the words
he on the downward journey mumbled:
'To die like this, make no mistake,
is not my destiny, by God! '
Repeated it so many times
that he believed it when he hit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I hope i dont have a nightmare tonight herbert about my shoot not opening lucky he didn't stutter as well 111111,222222,333333,44444, splat Warm regards allan