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«We are Russians — what a delight!»
A. V.Suvorov

A snob with a falsely downhearted face,
«Huddling» in his Porsche, pronounced,
«I am ashamed to be called Russian on the earth
And to belong to good for nothing drunks».

His thorough looks and his demeanor —
The devil cleverly had figured out both.
But the merciless virus of depravity
Disgracefully ate out all his soul.

And now it is not worth even a penny,
Like a yellow leaf from a broken branch.
But Pushkin, with his Ethiopian origin, unlike him,
Was glad to belong to the Russian clan and land.

And Kruzenshtern, and Bellingshausen —
Creators of the Russian maritime prestige,
They did consider themselves Russians rightly —
They proudly raised their homeland from its knees.

And being not much tolerant with narrow worldview,
Trying to peer beyond all possible horizon ends,
Greig, de Tolly, and Learmonth enjoyed the honor
To be called Russians, though authentically they were Scots.

Anyone of them is admiration worthy —
To praise their homeland was the law of them!
So gave his life, with no regret, for Russia…
Georgian prince Pyotr Ivanovich Bagration.

Our language is so versatile, so genuine, so perfect —
It heals the soul; it stabs much better than a knife.
Are we that capable of appreciating it immensely
And knowing it as did our Danish Dahl?

Come on… why Dahl? In our time, are there many
Who know the powerful and great tongue so,
As did Khokhol Mykola Gogol,
Who was familiar with Pushkin long ago?

Don’t bang your head against the brick wall
So furiously spluttering in vain!
«We’re Russians!» — used to say Shevchenko.
Read thoroughly the Kobzar once again.

Suvorov, Ushakov, Ivan Kulibin,
Mendeleev, Lomonosov, and Popov…
In their lifetime, working until wet shirts,
They cherished filial love in their souls.

Their names were engraved on tablets
As the true history key rudiments.
And among them, as a pillar, old man Derzhavin,
With the blood of a Tatar Mirza in veins.

They could be servants or Messiahs…
Who carried their crosses on the shoulders bowed,
Same as… was carrying in the name of the whole Russia —
A Turk’s descendant Admiral Kolchak.

They have instilled and nurtured love
From age-old origins and roots.
Russian is the one, whose soul does live in Russia,
Whose thoughts are all about it — the motherland.

You cannot get patriotism as a bonus
To the coat, which doesn’t fit.
And if you're ashamed to be called Russian,
My dear, you are not Russian, you are just… not it.