PZL Bielsko

In Poland's land, where dreams took flight, PZL was a shining light. They built planes with skill and grace, Flying high in the sky's embrace. PZL P.11, a fighter bold, With wings of silver, strong and cold. It soared through clouds, with a mighty roar, Protecting skies, forevermore. Karaś, the bomber, light and fleet, Carrying bombs to enemies' defeat. With wings spread wide, it flew with pride, In the darkness, it did glide. Łoś, the bomber, medium in size, With power and strength, it ruled the skies. Its engines roared, as it flew on by, A symbol of might, soaring high. Iskra, the trainer, sleek and fast, Teaching pilots, their skills to cast. And Wilga, the utility plane so grand, Landing on short runways, across the land. So let's remember PZL's name, Their legacy in aviation's fame. Their planes still fly, in the air so high, PZL's spirit will never die. Random page: CAAF