Service isn't just a formal duty, but also a test of a person, a verification of their values and fortitude. These poems are about the everyday lives of those in uniform, about quiet shifts, about decisions made, and about those who remained in the rear, waiting. They are about loyalty, responsibility, and how service changes one's view of the world, leaving an indelible mark on the heart. There is no heroic pathos here, only an attempt to see and understand life through the prism of professional duty.<\/p>\n
\nIn the stillness of the night, like a guard at the ancient gates, I stand alone, and the city sleeps around me. Only the lanterns' uncertain, pale gaze and the wind's whisper, like a soft sound. In the pockets of my hands, frozen sadness, the timid, bright trace of memories. And it seems as if the veil of time conceals life's sorrowful secret.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nChanging of the guard<\/h2>\n
\nThe crisp step is clearly audible, And the steel of the belts gleams in the rays of dawn. The weary guard relieves his post, Greeting the new day, like the others. In his eyes is the shadow of the past night, In his hands is a weapon ready for battle. He knows that he is on guard every day, And duty takes precedence over personal peace. And now another soldier stands, Intently gazing into the distance, into the vastness. He has come to protect the Motherland in the night, So that our conversation may sleep peacefully.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nBarracks. Evening.<\/h2>\n
\nThe barracks are dark, quiet, and dusty, and whispers are held. Dreams of home, of their beloved home, of those they so desperately await. A cracked table, a worn chair, and photographs lie on the nightstand. They contain youth, joy, the sweet hum of loved ones, and promises that soon it will all be back. But time drags on like a long dream, and each day seems like a series. Only duty and honor are a reliable standard, helping one to endure in adversity. And in this silence, far from everyone, an invisible family is born. Soldiers are brothers, in the shared duty of those who are faithful to the Motherland, to themselves, and forever.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nDismissal<\/h2>\n
\nIn anticipation of freedom, sweet captivity, Discharge is like long-awaited paradise. And the heart beats joyfully in place of the melancholy of the barracks, the oppressive sadness. The city greets you with its lights ahead, and home beckons, cozy and familiar. In the arms of loved ones, you long to find peace and quiet, forgetting about the interruptions. But deep down, a question lingers: What is there out there, in the world, without uniforms and overcoats? And you understand that service is a weight, that it tempers the spirit and makes you stronger.\n <\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nBorder post<\/h2>\n
\nHe stands silently, a guardian of the silent borders,
\nWind-beaten and grey.
\nHe saw the joy of meetings and the pain of separation,
\nAnd the quiet whisper of the night over the river.<\/p>\nHe remembers years full of worries,
\nAnd the faces of those who served here.
\nHe knows the value of peace and roads,
\nAnd the price of honor that was lit in the soul.<\/p>\nHe is a symbol of loyalty to his country,
\nAnd a symbol of vigilance that waits forever.
\nHe is a part of history, he is on an equal footing
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