I watched as my husband trudged through the snow,
rustic military boots crunching through
the ****** drifts
to join the other soldiers,
his younger brother trotting behind,
eagerly and blindly running to his demise.
Each of them being forced into a war
For a cause in which none of them believed.
Ба́ре деру́тся - у холо́пов чубы́ треща́т.
The young men without passion
Without reason
Set out on their funeral march.
Thousands of them sentenced
to a grisly and gory fate.
Standing in the doorway,
I weep not only for my husband,
But for every young man in Russia,
Praying
Hopelessly
For a safe return.
I watch as they disappear into
The endless white oblivion,
Listening as the church bell tolled.
Suddenly, I feel that all hope is lost.
All young men must go.