Here you will find the Poem The Delibash of poet Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
With the hostile camp in skirmish Our men once were changing shot, Pranced the Delibash his charger 'Fore our ranks of Cossacks hot. Trifle not with free-born Cossacks! Nor too o'er foolhardy be! Thy mad mood thou wilt atone for-- On his pike he'll skewer thee! 'Ware friend Cossack! Or at full bound, Off thy head, at lightning speed With his scimitar he'll sever From thy trunk! He will indeed! What confusion! What a roaring! Halt! thou devil's pack, have care! On the pike is lanced the horseman-- Headless stands the Cossack there!
