they want to bring criminal charges over the poem "Once Again About Tenderness" As a sign of solidarity with e**melind **, I am publishing the full text: We Russians are very tender, Fire traumatic (less-lethal) rounds at us and we’ll die. Some people’s friends will come to Manezhnaya Square (in Moscow) And start a riot. Because in real life, Our Russian beings Are extremely prone to fascism, As the Sova Center has long established. And people of Caucasian nationality, By the very structure of their organism, Are, on the contrary, inclined toward internationalism And anti-fascism. The moment a Russian fascist sees a Caucasian, He immediately starts plotting around him. And if the latter refuses to be provoked, He starts throwing Sieg Heil salutes at him. It’s vile to throw Sieg Heil salutes, You could hit someone in the eye. And then, setting aside its tolerance, The Caucasus clenches its fists. Anti-fascists have always defeated fascists, Here lies a Russian with his head shot through. On his side the conflict was ethnic, On the other side, merely domestic. And the police are for the anti-fascists too, They’ll remember the Battle of Kursk, Look at their brave, honest faces, And send them off with honor back to the mountains, home. But so far, Not all the provocateurs Have been neutralized, And Manezhnaya Square is restless, And the commentators keep repeating, “Riot.” There they march — the Russian fascists, In orderly ranks toward their fate. Failing students, C students, and good students From Class 10-A and 9-B. Many of them will be thrown in prison Because they are fascist scum, Because on Manezhnaya Square They took a dump And broke a Chinese silicone Christmas tree. Congratulations on the coming New Year! And I wish the working people, as best they can, That everyone be with their own people, Where their people have arranged a showdown with another people. Just remember that we are very tender, We are vulnerable to rubber bullets and sharp knives, In spring our corpse-snowdrops bloom Across the great cities lying in wait. And when our bodies bloom above the dumps In a warm pale-pink color, A cavalcade of jeeps with flashing lights will speed past them, Saluting with golden pistols. Update. Mistake. He is being charged over this poem: When the progressive intelligentsia, mouths agape, Awaits the verdict in Khodorkovsky’s case, Which is the main event in the history of our motherland, The working people are entertained by another trial, About that idiot Kirkorov, Like, did he beat up yet another woman, or did he not after all? The bosses of "Fratria" of course shit themselves When their handlers put pressure on them. But thank God the lads stood up And shouted the banned slogan: "Glory to Russia!" Many of them will be jailed By Moscow cops bought off by mountain men, They have long since become the main enemies of the Russian people, But you and I will tell our grandchildren That someone fought for our freedom. Meanwhile Caucasians are butchering Russians at every crossroads, And shooting them dead with pistols. And the more they kill, the louder they shout, “Glory to Putin!” That’s what they use now instead of “Allahu Akbar”!