Straight out of high school into the guard
Doesn’t realize what he is into, soon to be hard.
In his barracks, images of home are now charred,
A soldier he has become, he thoughts are jarred.
On his way to keep peace, he fear comes he must discard,
Gun at hand, searching for prey like a buzzard.
Seeing a hostile, holds his breath and fires with no regard.
Back in the barracks he now has the trump card,
For he is the hero like Captain Pickard.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem