Моего "Медведя" перевели на английский.

Пусть учат.
DO NOT POKE THE RUSSIAN BEAR
Dear friends from lands across the water,
Godlike, stately, arrogant, well-nourished,
Do not rouse the bear from his slumber.
Let him sleep in peace inside his lair.
Don't disturb him, let him reign and govern,
Quaff and gorge the while his heart is beating.
You cannot imagine for a moment,
How this poking will turn out for you!
Time and time again you dared to kick him,
To disparage, and to hail with curses,
Crucify upon a Russian birch tree,
Drag through mud, through hell and boiling water.
But when final victory seemed certain,
When it made you quiver with excitement,
Fearsome roar of one ablaze with anger
On a sudden echoed in your hallway.
Can't you stay the heck at home, old fellows?
Can’t you stop your ever ceaseless efforts
To remove a piece of Mother Russia
From the paws of unsuspecting Clubfoot?
For too long your mercenary papers
Have been filled with serpentine intentions.
For too long you had the gall to question
If the Russian bear can keep his lair.
By the will of God we chose to come here,
And not once have we disgraced our honour,
Our life, - it doesn't need your judgement!
We are not the ones who stole our riches.
Here we stand on ironclad foundations –
Our sails, our horseshoes, and our sleigh skids,
Our Berings, Dezhnyovs, and Khabarovs,
Our Yermaks, Zaykovs, and Poyarkovs.
Dames and sirs, your lordships and your worships,
When mistakenly you cross that border,
Do not bullyrag the Russian bear or mock him:
He might just come out and bite your head off.
There's no doubt you might befool him often,
Get him drunk and take him to the cleaners,
Grace to you is something to be paid for,
Bars of gold - your only shining beacon.
Your belief is to divide and conquer.
Rule of force is all that you acknowledge.
You expect your flock to follow orders,
Or have early grave bestowed upon them.
Unlike you, to us each man's a brother.
We don't welcome avarice or falsehood.
Verity is what we always hallow,
And above all else we cherish Justice.
That is why the hellfire doesn't scare us.
And where no one else can't help but perish,
Our nation will arise in glory,
From the ashes, like a fiery phoenix.
We'll efface the frenzy of the battle,
Wash our eyes in crystal springlet water,
Read our prayers before the sacred icon...
Then one night we'll pay your house a visit.
Stained with blood and reeking of the powder,
Looking 'round with gaze fatigued and jaded,
We will pause anear to your headboard,
And we'll look into your eyes with judgement.
And until you've dimmed the light, we'll ask you,
After adding up the bitter bygones:
- Why the blazes did you come to Russia?
Do I owe you anything, old fellow?
You will know the time has come for payback,
But you won't have anything to offer.
Were we brothers, we'd perhaps forgive you.
But we're not, therefore be gone, you demons!
When your soul starts twitching in your body,
Helpless to avoid our frowning glances,
Once for all you will renounce gladly
Silly notion of the 'Drang nach Osten'.
Those of you who crave the lands of ours
For your baseball fields and rugby pitches,
Know your history, especially those chapters
That describe Napoleon and Adolf.
Tone it down, your brass is getting tacky!
For each poke, our wrath will soon befall you!
So don't rouse the bear from his slumber.
Chances are, it will work out all right then.
Константин Фролов - Крымский.