Nekrasov Grandpa Mazay and Hares to read in full. Nekrasov N
In August, near Malye Vezha,
With old Mazai I beat great snipe.
It suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky, the sun played through the cloud.
There was a small cloud on it,
And it burst into a fierce rain!
Straight and light as steel rods,
Rain streams pierced the ground
With impetuous force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they disappeared into a shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazay.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village:
Removing it beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born to a miracle,
She is all drowned in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(This whole area the water understands,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to the point of passion.
He is widows, childless, has only a grandson,
To walk on a tough road for him is boredom!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He doesn't care to run away from the forests:
"The forest is not a road: by the bird, by the beast
You can fire it off. " - "And the goblin?" - "I do not believe!
Once in a swagger, I called them, waited
The whole night - I didn't see anyone!
For a day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat in passing lingonberries, raspberries;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Wheezes; the owl flies by night,
The horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself was shy:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in church when they served
The service and the door were closed tightly,
Is it a pine tree that creaks
As if an old woman would grumble in a dream ... "
Mazai does not spend his day without hunting.
He would live gloriously, he would not know care,
If only they did not change their eyes:
Mazai often began to poodle.
However, he does not come to despair:
Grandpa will blur out, - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with an oblique finger:
"You lie - you will fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger at the gun,
Matchesk carries a box with him,
Sits behind a bush - lure a grouse,
He will attach a match to the seed - and it will break out!
Another hunter walks with a gun,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you dragging a pot of coals?"
- “It hurts, darling, I'm chilly with my hands;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, I'll put my gun down
I will warm my hands over the embers,
Yes, then I will shoot at the villain! "
"That's a hunter!" - Mazai added.
I confess I laughed heartily.
However, more mile peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noble ones?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote it down for you alone ...
Old Mazai was loose in the barn:
In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be fought,
If they didn't catch her with nets,
If only they hadn't crushed her with a snare;
Hares, too, - I feel sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! not enough yet! men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience? .. I’m just for the wood
I went in a boat - there are many of them from the river
It catches up to us in spring floods, -
I go, I catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares gathered on it in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; already left under them
Less than an arshin of land in width,
Less fathoms in length.
Then I drove up: they were buzzing with their ears,
Themselves from a place; I took one,
He commanded the others: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
The team slanted just sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water.
“That's it! - I said, - do not argue with me!
Obey, bunnies, grandfather Mazai! "
That way, we sail in silence.
A column is not a column, a hare on a stump,
Legs crossed, stands, poor wretch,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
I just started working with an oar
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but as fat as a merchant's wife!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was trembling violently ... It was not too early.
A gnarled log swam past,
Zaitsev escaped with a dozen of them.
"I would take you - but sink the boat!"
It’s a pity for them, however, but it’s a pity for the find -
I got hooked on a twig with a hook
And dragged the log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I gave the village a ride with bunnies:
"Look at what old Mazai is doing!"
Okay! admire, but don't bother us!
We found ourselves in the river beyond the village.
Here my bunnies have gone crazy:
They look, stand on their hind legs,
The boat is shaken, they do not allow rowing:
The crooks saw the coast,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "God bless you!" said…
And in full spirit
Let's go bunnies.
And I told them: "Wow!"
Live, animals!
Look, oblique,
Now save yourself
And mind you in winter
Don't get caught!
I'll take aim - boo!
And you will lie down ... Oooh! ..
In an instant, my team scattered,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Strongly wet, weak; in the bag
I paid them - and brought them home,
During the night my sick warmed up,
Dried up, got enough sleep, ate well;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
Shook it out, hooted - and they gave a stretch!
I followed them with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I don't hit them either in the spring or in the summer,
The skin is bad, - it sheds obliquely ...
poems by Nekrasov
An interesting poem about Grandfather Mazai, who showed nobility and care by saving the hares who got into a difficult situation because of the rising water. Despite the fact that Mazai's grandfather was a hunter, he came to the rescue of hares, put them in his boat and drove them to land. And he fed the weakest and most exhausted hares, warmed them and also released them. But he advised them not to come across him during the hunting season.
4">
41f1f19176d383480afa65d325c06ed0
IIn August, near Malye Vezha,
With old Mazai I beat great snipe.
It suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky the sun played through the cloud.
There was a small cloud on it,
And it burst into a fierce rain!
Straight and light as steel rods,
Rain streams pierced the ground
With impetuous force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they disappeared into a shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazay.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village:
Removing it beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born to a miracle,
She is all drowned in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(This whole area the water understands,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to the point of passion.
He is widows, childless, has only a grandson,
To walk on a tough road for him is boredom!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He doesn't care to run away from the forests:
"The forest is not a road: by the bird, by the beast
You can fire it off. " - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!
Once in a swagger, I called them, waited
The whole night - I didn't see anyone!
For a day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat in passing lingonberries, raspberries;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Wheezes; the owl flies by night,
The horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself was shy:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in church when they served
The service and the door were closed tightly,
Is it a pine tree that creaks
As if an old woman grumbles in a dream ... "
Mazai does not spend his day without hunting.
He would live gloriously, he would not know care,
If only they did not change their eyes:
Mazai often began to poodle.
However, he does not come to despair:
Grandpa will blur out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with an oblique finger:
"You lie - you will fall!" & - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger at the gun,
Matchesk carries a box with him,
Sits behind a bush - lure a grouse,
He will attach a match to the seed - and it will break out!
Another hunter walks with a gun,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you dragging a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, darling, my hands are chilly;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, I'll put my gun down
I will warm my hands over the embers,
Yes, and then I fired at the villain! -
"That's a hunter!" - Mazai added.
I confess I laughed heartily.
However, more mile peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noble ones?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote it down for you alone ...
Old Mazai was loose in the barn:
“In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be fought,
If they didn't catch her with nets,
If only they hadn't crushed her with a snare;
Hares, too, - I feel sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! not enough yet! men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience? .. I’m just for the wood
I went in a boat - there are many of them from the river
It catches up to us in spring floods -
I go, I catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares gathered on it in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; already left under them
Less than an arshin of land in width,
Less fathoms in length.
Then I drove up: they were buzzing with their ears,
Themselves from a place; I took one,
He commanded the others: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
The team slanted just sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it! - I said, - do not argue with me!
Obey, bunnies, grandfather Mazai! "
That way, we sail in silence.
A column is not a column, a hare on a stump,
Legs crossed, stands, poor wretch,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
I just started working with an oar
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but as fat as a merchant's wife!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was trembling violently ... It was not too early.
A gnarled log swam past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
Zaitsev about a dozen escaped on it
"I would take you - but sink the boat!"
It’s a pity for them, however, but it’s a pity for the find -
I got hooked on a twig with a hook
And dragged the log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I gave the village a ride with bunnies:
"Look-ko: what is old Mazai doing!"
Okay! admire, but don't bother us!
We found ourselves in the river beyond the village.
Here my bunnies have gone crazy:
They look, stand on their hind legs,
The boat is shaken, they do not allow rowing:
The crooks saw the coast,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "God bless you!" said...
And in full spirit
Let's go bunnies.
And I told them: “Wow!
Live, animals!
Look, oblique,
Now save yourself
And mind you in winter
Don't get caught!
I'll take aim - boo!
And you will lie down ... Oooh! .. "
In an instant, my team scattered,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Strongly wet, weak; in the bag
I bowed them - and brought them home.
During the night my sick warmed up,
Dried up, got enough sleep, ate well;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
Shook it out, hooted - and they gave a stretch!
I followed them with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I don't hit them either in the spring or in the summer,
The skin is bad, - it sheds with an oblique ... "
4">
In August, near Malye Vezha,
With old Mazai I beat great snipe.
It suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky the sun played through the cloud.
There was a small cloud on it,
And it burst into a fierce rain!
Straight and light as steel rods,
Rain streams pierced the ground
With impetuous force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they disappeared into a shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazay.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village:
Removing it beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born to a miracle,
She is all drowned in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(This whole area the water understands,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to the point of passion.
He is widows, childless, has only a grandson,
To walk on a tough road for him is boredom!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He doesn't care to run away from the forests:
"The forest is not a road: by the bird, by the beast
You can burn it out. "- And the goblin? -" I don't believe it!
Once in a swagger, I called them, waited
The whole night - I didn't see anyone!
For a day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat in passing lingonberries, raspberries;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Wheezes; the owl flies by night,
The horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself was shy:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in church when they served
The service and the door were closed tightly,
Is it a pine tree that creaks
As if an old woman grumbled in a dream ... "
Mazai does not spend his day without hunting.
He would live gloriously, he would not know care,
If only they did not change their eyes:
Mazai often began to poodle.
However, he does not come to despair:
Grandpa will blur out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with an oblique finger:
"You lie - you will fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger at the gun,
Matchesk carries a box with him,
Sits behind a bush - lure a grouse,
He will attach a match to the seed - and it will break out!
Another hunter walks with a gun,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, darling, my hands are chilly;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, I'll put my gun down
I will warm my hands over the embers,
Yes, and then I fired at the villain! -
"That's a hunter!" - Mazai added.
I confess I laughed heartily.
However, more mile peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noble ones?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote it down for you alone ...
Old Mazai was loose in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be fought,
If they didn't catch her with nets,
If only they hadn't crushed her with a snare;
Hares, too, - I feel sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! not enough yet! men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience? .. I’m just for the wood
I went in a boat - there are many of them from the river
It catches up to us in spring floods -
I go, I catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares gathered on it in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; already left under them
Less than an arshin of land in width,
Less fathoms in length.
Then I drove up: they were buzzing with their ears,
Themselves from a place; I took one,
He commanded the others: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
The team slanted just sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it!” I said, “don't argue with me!
Obey, bunnies, grandfather Mazai! "
That way, we sail in silence.
A column is not a column, a hare on a stump,
Legs crossed, stands, poor wretch,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
I just started working with an oar
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but as fat as a merchant's wife!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was trembling violently ... It was not too early.
A gnarled log swam past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
Zaitsev about a dozen escaped on it
"I would take you - but sink the boat!"
It’s a pity for them, however, but it’s a pity for the find -
I got hooked on a twig with a hook
And dragged the log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I gave the village a ride with bunnies:
"Look-ko: what is old Mazai doing!"
Okay! admire, but don't bother us!
We found ourselves in the river beyond the village.
Here my bunnies have gone crazy:
They look, stand on their hind legs,
The boat is shaken, they do not allow rowing:
The crooks saw the coast,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "God bless you!" said...
And in full spirit
Let's go bunnies.
And I told them: "Wow!
Live, animals!
Look, oblique,
Now save yourself
And mind you in winter
Don't get caught!
I'll take aim - boo!
And you will lie down ... Oooh! .. "
In an instant, my team scattered,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Strongly wet, weak; in the bag
I bowed them - and brought them home.
During the night my sick warmed up,
Dried up, got enough sleep, ate well;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
Shook it out, hooted - and they gave a stretch!
I followed them with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I don't hit them either in the spring or in the summer,
The skin is bad, - it sheds with an oblique ... "So
In August, near Malye Vezha,
With old Mazai I beat great snipe.
It suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky, the sun played through the cloud.
There was a small cloud on it,
And it burst into a fierce rain!
Straight and light as steel rods,
Rain streams pierced the ground
With impetuous force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they disappeared into a shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazay.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village:
Removing it beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born to a miracle,
She is all drowned in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(This whole area the water understands,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to the point of passion.
He is widows, childless, has only a grandson,
To walk on a tough road for him is boredom!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He doesn't care to run away from the forests:
"The forest is not a road: by the bird, by the beast
You can fire it off. " - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!
Once in a swagger, I called them, waited
The whole night - I didn't see anyone!
For a day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat in passing lingonberries, raspberries;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Wheezes; the owl flies by night,
The horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself was shy:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in church when they served
The service and the door were closed tightly,
Is it a pine tree that creaks
As if an old woman would grumble in a dream ... "
Mazai does not spend his day without hunting.
He would live gloriously, he would not know care,
If only they did not change their eyes:
Mazai often began to poodle.
However, he does not come to despair:
Grandpa will blur out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with an oblique finger:
"You lie - you will fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger at the gun,
Matchesk carries a box with him,
Sits behind a bush - lure a grouse,
He will attach a match to the seed - and it will break out!
Another hunter walks with a gun,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you dragging a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, darling, my hands are chilly;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, I'll put my gun down
I will warm my hands over the embers,
Yes, and then I fired at the villain! -
"That's a hunter!" - Mazai added.
I confess I laughed heartily.
However, more mile peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noble ones?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote it down for you alone ...
Old Mazai was loose in the barn:
“In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be fought,
If they didn't catch her with nets,
If only they hadn't crushed her with a snare;
Hares, too, - I feel sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! not enough yet! men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience? .. I’m just for the wood
I went in a boat - there are many of them from the river
It catches up to us in spring floods -
I go, I catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares gathered on it in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; already left under them
Less than an arshin of land in width,
Less fathoms in length.
Then I drove up: they were buzzing with their ears,
Themselves from a place; I took one,
He commanded the others: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
The team slanted just sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it! - I said, - do not argue with me!
Obey, bunnies, grandfather Mazai! "
That way, we sail in silence.
A column is not a column, a hare on a stump,
Legs crossed, stands, poor wretch,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
I just started working with an oar
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but as fat as a merchant's wife!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was trembling violently ... It was not too early.
A gnarled log swam past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
Zaitsev about a dozen escaped on it
"I would take you - but sink the boat!"
It’s a pity for them, however, but it’s a pity for the find -
I got hooked on a twig with a hook
And dragged the log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I gave the village a ride with bunnies:
"Look-ko: what is old Mazai doing!"
Okay! admire, but don't bother us!
We found ourselves in the river beyond the village.
Here my bunnies have gone crazy:
They look, stand on their hind legs,
The boat is shaken, they do not allow rowing:
The crooks saw the coast,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
He moored the boat - and "God bless you!" Said ...
And in full spirit
Let's go bunnies.
And I told them: “Wow!
Live, animals!
Look, oblique,
Now save yourself
And mind you in winter
Don't get caught!
I'll take aim - boo!
And you will lie down ... Oo-oo-oo-oo! .. "
In an instant, my team scattered,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Strongly wet, weak; in the bag
I bowed them - and brought them home.
During the night my sick warmed up,
Dried up, got enough sleep, ate well;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
Shook it out, hooted - and they gave a stretch!
I followed them with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I don't hit them either in the spring or in the summer,
The skin is bad, - it sheds with an oblique ... "
Analysis of the poem "Grandfather Mazai and the Hares" by Nekrasov
In the work of Nekrasov, works for children occupy a special place. The poet treated the younger generation with great love, his attitude towards peasant children was especially warm. Nekrasov believed that a child loses a lot in a noble family. In his poems, he wanted to show the huge natural world, the connection with which city children have long lost. A striking example is the work "Grandfather Mazai and the Hares".
The author describes his joint hunt with a villager - grandfather Mazai. He personifies a real hunter who has perfectly studied all the laws of nature and the habits of animals. Mazai is well-versed in the forest, he was simply created for such a life. The poet listens with great interest to his stories and admires them. He notes that "peasant anecdotes" are no worse than "noble" ones. Therefore, he wants to convey to the readers one of these stories.
Further, the story goes on behalf of the grandfather Mazay himself. Nekrasov strove to convey all the richness and diversity of the well-aimed folk language. The plot lies in the fact that Mazai saved a lot of rabbits on a boat during a flood. For a city dweller, such a story looks like complete fantasy. Moreover, the grandfather colorfully describes the behavior of hares, which resemble people in distress. The story takes on the features of a fairy tale. Throughout the story, Mazai talks with hares, expresses his sympathy for them.
For a person who has lived all his life in the forest, this situation looks quite plausible. Nekrasov wanted to show that the village people have not yet lost their connection with nature. Their communication with animals is not based on primitive superstition, but on the recognition of them in many respects equal to man. Grandfather Mazai says that he never saw the goblin (“I don’t believe!”). But this does not prevent him from talking with hares and believing that they understand him perfectly.
Mazai is still a hunter. He helps hares in a difficult situation, but, letting them go free, warns: "Don't get caught in winter!" Nekrasov does not want children to perceive the world as a calm idyll. The poet was a realist and strove to portray reality. Man is the king of nature, but that is why he must maintain justice and order. Mazai's noble deed should teach children kindness and mercy to all beings.
In August, near "Malye Vezha",
With old Mazai I beat great snipe.
It suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky, the sun played through the cloud.
There was a small cloud on it,
And it burst into a fierce rain!
Straight and light as steel rods,
Rain streams pierced the ground
With impetuous force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they disappeared into a shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazay.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village: 
She all drowns in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
Removing it beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born to a miracle, 
(The water raises this whole area,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to the point of passion.
He is widows, childless, has only a grandson.
To walk on a tough road for him is boredom!
For forty miles straight to Kostroma
He doesn't care to run off the forests:
"The forest is not a road: by the bird, by the beast
You can burn it out. "- And the goblin? -" I don't believe it!
Once in a swagger * I called them, waited
The whole night - I didn't see anyone!
* (In courage - in fervor.)
For a day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat in passing lingonberries, raspberries;
In the evening, the warbler sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Wheezes; the owl flies by night,
The horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn. 
At night ... well, at night I myself was shy:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Is it a pine tree that creaks
As if an old woman grumbled in a dream ... "
Mazai does not spend his day without hunting.
He would live gloriously, he would not know care,
If only they did not change their eyes:
Mazai often began to poodle *.
* (Poodle - shoot off target.)
However, he does not come to despair:
Grandpa will blur out - the hare leaves, 
Grandfather threatens with an oblique finger:
"If you lie - you will fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger at the gun,
Matchesk carries a box with him,
Sits behind a bush - lure a grouse,
He will attach a match to the seed - and it will break out!
Another hunter walks with a gun,
Carries a pot of coals with him. 
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, darling, my hands are chilly;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, put my gun down
I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, and then I fired at the villain!
"That's a hunter!" - Mazai added.
I confess I laughed heartily.
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote it down for you alone ...
Old Mazai was loose in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be fought,
If they didn't catch her with nets,
If only they hadn't crushed her with a snare;
Hares, too, - I feel sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! not enough yet! The men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience? .. I’m just for the wood
I went in a boat - there are many of them from the river
It catches up to us in spring floods, - 
I go, I catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares gathered on it in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; already left under them
Less than an arshin of land in width,
Less fathoms in length. 
Then I drove up: they were buzzing with their ears,
Themselves from a place; I took one,
He commanded the others: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
The team slanted just sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water.
Loading...