Grandfather smear and hares read the full version. Nikolai Nekrasov Grandfather Mazai and Hares (compilation)
In August, near Small Vezha,
With old Mazay I beat snipes.
Somehow, it suddenly became especially quiet,
The sun played through the clouds in the sky.
The cloud was small on it,
And burst into violent rain!
Straight and bright, like steel bars,
Raindrops hit the ground
With a swift force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they hid in a shed.
Children, I will tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summer
I stay with him for a week.
I like his village
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial, hops will be born in it miraculously,
All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(Water understands all this area,
So the village rises in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his lowland to the point of passion.
He is a widow, childless, has only a grandson,
Walking on a thorny road is boredom for him!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He does not care to run away through the forests:
“The forest is not a road: according to the bird, according to the beast
You can fire it." - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!
Once in courage, I called them, waited
All night long, I didn't see anyone!
For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings softly,
As if in an empty barrel hoopoe
hoots; the owl scatters by night,
The horns are sharpened, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself became timid:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in a church when they served
Service and firmly closed the door,
What kind of pine creaks
Like an old woman grumbling in a dream ... "
Mazay does not spend a day without hunting.
If he lived nicely, he would not know care,
If only their eyes did not change:
Mazay often began to poodle.
However, he does not despair:
Grandpa will blurt out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with a slanting finger:
"You lie - you fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger of the gun,
Matches carries a box with him,
He sits behind a bush - he will lure the grouse,
He will put a match to the seed - and it will burst!
Walks with a gun another trapper,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?"
- It hurts, dear, I'm chilly with my hands;
If I now follow the hare,
First I sit down, put down my gun,
I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, then I'll shoot at the villain! -
"That's the hunter!" - Mazay added.
I confess, I laughed heartily.
However, a mile of peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noblemen?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote one for you ...
II
From the old Mazai loosened up in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be conducted,
If they didn’t catch her with nets,
If only they didn’t crush her with snares;
Hares, too - they are sorry to tears!
Only spring waters surging
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! not much more! the men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience?
I went in a boat - there are a lot of them from the river
It catches up with us in the spring flood -
I'm going to catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares on it gathered in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; left under them
Less than an arshin of earth in width,
Less than a fathom in length.
Then I drove up: they babble with their ears,
Themselves from the spot; I took one
I commanded the rest: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
Only the oblique team sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
…That's it! I said, don't argue with me!
Listen, bunnies, grandfather Mazai!
That way Gutorya, sailing in silence.
A column is not a column, a bunny on a stump,
Crossing his paws, he stands, unfortunate,
I took it - the burden is not great!
Just started paddle work
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but fat as a merchant!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was trembling strongly… It wasn't too early.
A knotty log floated past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
A dozen hares were saved 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 knot
And dragged a log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I rolled the village of bunnies:
Look what old Mazai is doing!”
Okay! admire, but do not interfere with us!
We found ourselves behind the village in the river.
This is where my bunnies really went crazy:
They look, they stand on their hind legs,
They rock the boat, they don’t let row:
The shore was seen by slanting rogues,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "God bless!" said…
And in full spirit
The bunnies are gone.
And I told them: Wow!
Live, animals!
Look oblique
Now save yourself
And chur in winter
Don't get caught!
Aim - boom!
And you will lie down ... U-u-u-x! .. "
Instantly my team fled,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Very wet, weakened; in a bag
I laid them down and brought them home.
During the night, my patients warmed up,
Dried up, slept, ate tightly;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
He shook it out, hooted - and they gave an arrow!
I followed them all with the same advice:
Don't get caught in the winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds obliquely ... "
II. bees
Damn honey! eat with a loaf
Listen to the parable about the bees!Now the water has spilled beyond measure,
Thought it was just a flood
Only and dry that our village
By gardens where we have beehives.
The bee was surrounded by water,
He sees both the forest and the meadows in the distance,
Well - and flies - nothing light,
And how loaded will fly back,
Darling lacks strength. Trouble!
The water is full of bees,
Drowning working women, drowning hearts!
I'm burning to help, we did not look forward to, sinners,
Do not guess by yourself forever!
Yes, it hurt a good man,
Under the Annunciation remember a passerby?
He thought, man of Christ!Listen, son, how we saved the bees;
With a passerby, I grieved and yearned;
“You would have set milestones for them to land”,
This is the word he said!
Do you believe: a little the first milestone is green
They took it to the water, began to stick it in,
The bees understood the tricky skill:
So they bring down and bring down to rest!
Like pilgrims at the church on a bench,
Sat - sit.
There is not a single grass on the hillock,
Well, in the forest and in the fields grace:
The bees are not afraid to fly there,
Everything from a single good word!
Eat for health, we will be with honey.
God bless the passerby!The muzhik has finished, has dawned with a cross;
The boy finished eating honey with a loaf,
I listened to Tyatin's parable that hour,
And for the passerby low bow
He also weighed to the Lord God.
III. General Toptygin
Case in the evening, in winter,
And the frost is notable.
On the pole road
A young guy is going
The box is reverse;
Not in a hurry, a little cowardly;
Horses are not weak
Yes, the road is not smooth -
Potholes, potholes.
catches up with the yamschik
Leader with a bear:
"Put us down, boy,
Let's have fun!"
- What you? with a bear? - "Nothing!
He is humble,Extra scale for him
I'll bring it, sir!"
- Well, sit down! - Planted
bearded bear,
He sat down himself - and trotted
Take it easy Fedya...
Trifon sees a zucchini,
Fedya is invited.
"Wait for us for an hour!" -
He speaks to the bear.
And let's go. The bear is humble, -
Apparently old in years
He only licks his paw
Let the chains ring...The hour passes; no guys
Something they will drink famously!
But the usual ones are worth
The horses are quiet.It's late afternoon. Trembling in horses
The cold is angrier at night;
Tossed and turned in the sleigh
Mikhailo Ivanovich,
The horses jerked; hit it off
There's a big problem here
The bear barked! - rushed
Three is crazy!The bell heard
Fedyukha ran out,
Yes, in vain - did not catch up!
What a mess!Fast, furiously rushing
Troika - and no wonder:
On a bump every time
The beast growled zealously;
Only a groan stood around:
"Clean the road!
General Toptygin himself
Goes to the lair!
The oncoming man will shudder,
It will be terrible for a woman,
Like a furry bastard
Barks on a bump.
And the horses are even more afraid -
Didn't take a break!
Fifteen miles to the fullest
The poor ones are gone!Flying straight to the station
Troika is good.
The traveler sits
Head shaking:
Gets on to turn out the ring.
So there was a trio;
The porch caretaker himself
Runs out briskly.
Sees feet in boots
And a bear coat
Didn't notice in a hurry
What's with the iron lip
I didn’t think: where is the coachman
Walking from horses?
He sees - the master of the mainland,
“General,” he laughs.
Hastened to take off his cap:
“Hello!
Anything to order
Vodka or tea?..”
Wants to help the master
Nimble old man;
Here in full bear might
Our bear roared!
And the caretaker jumped back:
"Lord have mercy!
For forty years I served
Faith, truth, strength;
I saw a lot on the road
strict generals,
No rib, teeth in the mouth
Many are missing
And I did not see this
Lord Jesus!
The Unforgettable General
Apparently, in a new taste! .. "The coachmen came running
They marveled too;
They see - it's not out of hand,
Something is wrong here!
The honest people gathered
The whole village is in alarm:
"The general in the sleigh roars,
Like a bear in a den!
The coward runs, and who is bolder,
Those are for fun
They huddle around the sleigh;
And the caretaker behind.
He was scared, shouting from a distance:
"Don't you want to go to the hut?"
The bear will growl again ...
The caretaker has escaped!
Scared and ran away
And with all the retinue ...
I lay in the sleigh for two hours
The general is angry.
Came running at that time
Coachman and counselor;
He enlightened the people with honest
Tryphon bearded
And drove Toptygin away
From a sleigh with a club ...
And the caretaker scolded
Coachman with cattle ...
. Grandfather Mazai and hares
I
In August, near Small Vezha,
With old Mazay I beat snipes.Somehow, it suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky the sun played through the clouds.The cloud was small on it,
And burst into violent rain!Straight and bright, like steel bars,
Raindrops hit the groundWith a swift force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they hid in a shed.Children, I will tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summerI stay with him for a week.
I like his village
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial, hops will be born in it miraculously,All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars(Water understands all this area,
So the village rises in the spring,Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his lowland to the point of passion.He is a widow, childless, has only a grandson,
Walking on a thorny road is boredom for him!Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He does not care to run away through the forests:“The forest is not a road: according to the bird, according to the beast
You can fire it." - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!Once in courage, I called them, waited
All night long, I didn't see anyone!For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;In the evening the chiffchaff sings softly,
As if in an empty barrel hoopoehoots; the owl scatters by night,
The horns are sharpened, the eyes are drawn.At night ... well, at night I myself became timid:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.Quiet as in a church when they served
Service and firmly closed the door,
What kind of pine creaks
Like an old woman grumbling in a dream ... "Mazay does not spend a day without hunting.
If he lived nicely, he would not know care,If only their eyes did not change:
Mazay often began to poodle.However, he does not despair;
Grandpa will blurt out - the hare leaves,Grandfather threatens with a slanting finger:
"You lie - you fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:Kuzya broke the trigger of the gun,
Matches carries a box with him,He sits behind a bush - he will lure the grouse,
He will put a match to the seed - and it will burst!Walks with a gun another trapper,
Carries a pot of coals with him."Why are you carrying a pot of coals?"
- It hurts, dear, I'm chilly with my hands;If I now follow the hare,
First I sit down, put down my gun,I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, then I'll shoot at the villain! -"That's the hunter!" - Mazay added.
I confess, I laughed heartily.
However, a mile of peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noblemen?)I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote one for you ...II
Old Mazai loosened up in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be conducted,
If they didn’t catch her with nets,
If only they didn’t crush her with snares;
Hares, too - they are sorry to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! not much more! the men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience?
I went in a boat - there are a lot of them from the river
It catches up with us in the spring flood -
I'm going to catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares on it gathered in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; left under them
Less than an arshin of earth in width,
Less than a fathom in length.
Then I drove up: they babble with their ears,
Themselves from the spot; I took one
I commanded the rest: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
Only the oblique team sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it! I said, don't argue with me!
Listen, bunnies, grandfather Mazai!
That way Gutorya, sailing in silence.
A column is not a column, a bunny on a stump,
Crossing his paws, he stands, unfortunate,
I took it - the burden is not great!
Just started paddle work
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but fat as a merchant!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was shaking violently… It wasn't too early.
A knotty log floated past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
A dozen hares were saved 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 knot
And dragged a log behind him ...It was fun for women, children,
How I rolled the village of bunnies:
“Look at what old Mazai is doing!”
Okay! admire, but do not interfere with us!
We found ourselves behind the village in the river.
This is where my bunnies really went crazy:
They look, they stand on their hind legs,
They rock the boat, they don’t let row:
The shore was seen by slanting rogues,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "with God!" said…
And in full spirit
The bunnies are gone.
And I told them: “Wow!
Live, animals!
Look oblique
Now save yourself
And chur in winter
Don't get caught!
Aim - boom!
And you will lie down ... U-u-u-x! .. "
Instantly my team fled,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Very wet, weakened; in a bag
I laid them down and brought them home.
During the night, my patients warmed up,
Dried up, slept, ate tightly;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
He shook it out, hooted - and they gave an arrow!
I followed them all with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in the winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds obliquely ... "
. nightingales
Rocking the youngest son
The peasant woman said to her elders:
“Play, kids, bye!
I almost finished the sundress;Now I will wrap the cow,
We will force the horse to eat grass,
And I will take you to that grove -
Let's go listen to the nightingales.There they are, in the back of mushrooms, -
Don't bother me, you prankster! -
We have no place more cheerful;
In the spring, children, every holidayThey go there in the evenings
Both old and young. In the meadow
Red girls sing
Drunken peasants are talking.And in the grove, my dears,
Under the conversation and laughter of the people
Nightingales sing and whistle
Louder and sweeter than a round dance!And good for everyone...
Yes, only (Klim, don't touch Sasha!)
A little bit of a nightingale at all
They did not stop loving our grove:After all, our Kursk nightingale
In price - there were a lot of them caught,
Well, scared of the nets
Yes, they drove past us!Came, your grandfather said,
Spring, but the grove is silent
Worth it - there are no stray guests!
The peasants were taken by a great longing.Well, the holiday has come
And walked in the meadow
Yes, it was not a holiday for them!
The peasants combed their beards.And put among themselves -
God knew how to guide the mind -
On that glade, in that grove
Do not set nets, snares forever.And little by little nightingales
Again accustomed to our grove,
And now, my dears,
There is no place for them love and more beautiful!There with networks how many years
Nobody comes close
And a strict ban
Passed from grandfather to grandson.But in the spring the whole forest thunders!
Every day, a new choir will arrive ...
Under the songs of their village sleeps,
Their song wakes us up in the morning...You also need to remember
God forbid putting nets here!
After all, the poor nightingales need to
Give somewhere and rest, children ... "The middle son teased the cat,
The smaller one crawled around the mother's neck,
And the elder asked with importance,
Kubar letting in front of her:- Is there, mother, for people
Such groves in the world? -
“No, such places ... without taxes
And there is no recruitment, children.And if they were for people
Such groves and clearings,
All in the hands of their children
The peasant women would have been taken there!”
. On the eve of the bright holiday
I
I went to Rostov
high hill,
Small forest
Pulled on it:birch, aspen,
Yes spruce, yes pine;
On the left is the valley
Like a tablecloth.full of villages,
Dol roads,
He went down
And went to the lake.No lake, children
I can't forget
Not a church really
its shore:Here is a wonderful picture
I saw then!
I remember her
Willingly always...II
I'll start in order:
I rode in the spring
On Holy Saturday
Before the Holy One.Hurrying home
From hard work
I met in the morning
working people;Bored to death
I resolved the issue:
Who is a carpenter, who is a mechanic,
Painter, water carrier?Easy job!
Blacksmiths are coming
Who doesn't recognize them?
They are greatAnd sing and swear
Not such a day!
Goes bow-legged
Reveler-tailor:In one heart
The cap is like a pancake, -
Harmony, pipe,
Iron and arshin!Look - the dyer!
Do you know now?
Nose stained with ocher
And red lead eyes;He brushes and paints
Carries over the shoulder
And like a landcard
Apron on it.Here are sawyers: saikou
sullenly chew
And like soldiers
Everyone is walking in stepAnd steel saws
The good guys
Like living fish
Trembling on the shoulders!I wish them all
I want a way
To native villages
Rather comeWash off the soot
And labor sweat
And meet the Holy
With a happy heart...III
It got dark. Chatting
With my coachman
I drove the same
high hill;Looked at the valley
What went to the lake
And I see the valley
mine is alive:On every path
Leading to the village
Crowds appeared;
Evening mistThe lights lit up:
going somewhere
With bundles of burning
Straw people.Where? I think
I didn't manage to
Like a bell is loud
Answer missed!The lake is bright
Bonfires burned,
They were heading there
Smart, colorful,By the light of the burning
Straw, - crowds ...
At God's Temple
The paths convergedpopulace
Moved, grew.
Wonderful, children
The picture was!
Elegy
BUT NOT<рако>woo
Let the changing fashion tell us
That the theme is the old "suffering of the people"
And that poetry must forget it,
Don't believe me guys! she doesn't age.Oh, if years could age her!
God's world would flourish!.. Alas! while the nations
Dragging in poverty, submitting to scourges,
Like lean herds across mowed meadows,
Mourn their fate, the Muse will serve them,
And in the world there is no stronger, more beautiful union! ..
To remind the crowd that the people are in poverty,
While she rejoices and sings
To excite the attention of the mighty of the world to the people -
What more worthy service could the lyre serve? ..I dedicated the lyre to my people.
Perhaps I will die unknown to him,
But I served him - and my heart is calm ...
Let not every warrior harm the enemy,
But everyone go to battle! And fate will decide the battle ...
I saw a red day: there is no slave in Russia!
And I shed sweet tears in tenderness ...
“Enough to rejoice in a naive passion, -
Muse whispered to me. - It's time to move forward:
The people are liberated, but are the people happy?Do I listen to the songs of the reapers over the golden harvest,
Is the old man walking slowly behind the plow,
Does it run through the meadow, playing and whistling,
Happy child with father's breakfast,
Do the sickles sparkle, do the scythes ring together -
I'm looking for answers to my secret questions
Boiling in the mind: "In recent years
Have you become more tolerable, peasant suffering?
And the long slavery that came to replace
Has freedom finally made a difference
In people's destinies? into the tunes of rural maidens?
Or is their discordant melody just as sorrowful? .. "Evening is coming. Driven by dreams
Through the fields, through the meadows lined with haystacks,
Thoughtfully wandering in the cool semi-darkness,
And the song itself is composed in the mind,Recent, secret thoughts, a living embodiment:
I call blessings on rural labors,
I promise curses to the people's enemy,
And I pray to a friend in heaven of power,
And my song is loud!.. It is echoed by valleys, fields,
And the echo of distant mountains sends her feedback,
And the forest responded ... Nature listens to me,
But the one about whom I sing in the evening silence
To whom the poet's dreams are dedicated, -
Alas! he does not heed - and does not give an answer ...
This work of Nekrasov in verse undoubtedly deserves attention. This is not just poetry, and this is not only a whole story about a hunter who had to save wild hares from the flood. Hares are only the second half of the work. The first part tells about the village of grandfather Mazay, about these most beautiful and slightly creepy places, it is told very beautifully and in detail. And only by carefully reading the first part of the verse, you can feel all its beauty. You can read Nikolai Alekseevich Nekrasov's poems "Grandfather Mazai and the Hares" and watch picturesque illustrations for this book on our website.
Grandfather Mazai and hares
In August, near Small Vezha,
With old Mazay I beat snipes * .
Somehow, it suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky the sun played through the clouds.
The cloud was small on it,
And burst into violent rain!
Straight and bright, like steel bars,
Raindrops hit the ground
With a swift force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they hid in a shed.
Children, I will tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summer
I stay with him for a week.
I like his village
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial * hops in it will be born miraculously,
All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(Water understands all this area,
So the village rises in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his lowland to the point of passion.
He is a widow, childless, has only a grandson,
Thornoy * road to walk him - boredom!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He does not care to run away through the forests:
“The forest is not a road: according to the bird, according to the beast
You can fire it." - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!
Once in courage * I called them, I was waiting
All night long, I didn't see anyone!
For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings softly,
As if in an empty barrel hoopoe
hoots; the owl scatters by night,
The horns are sharpened, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself became timid:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in a church when they served
Service and firmly closed the door,
What kind of pine creaks
Like an old woman grumbling in her sleep...
Mazay does not spend a day without hunting.
If he lived nicely, he would not know care,
If only their eyes did not change:
Mazay often began to poodle *.
However, he does not despair:
Grandpa will blurt out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with a slanting finger:
"You lie - you fall!" - good-naturedly shouts.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger of the gun,
Matches carries a box with him,
He sits behind a bush - he will lure the grouse,
He will put a match to the seed - and it will burst!
Walks with a gun another trapper,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, dear, I'm chilly with my hands;
If I now follow the hare,
First I sit down, put down my gun,
I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, then I'll shoot at the villain! -
"That's the hunter!" - Mazay added.
I confess, I laughed heartily.
However, a mile of peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noblemen?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote one for you ...
Old Mazai loosened up in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be conducted,
If they didn’t catch her with nets,
If only they didn’t crush her with snares;
Hares here too - sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! not much more! the men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience?
I went in a boat - there are a lot of them from the river
It catches up with us in the spring flood -
I'm going to catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares on it gathered in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; left under them
Less than an arshin of earth in width,
Less than a fathom in length.
Then I drove up: they babble with their ears,
Themselves from the spot; I took one
I commanded the rest: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
Only the oblique team sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it! I said, don't argue with me!
Listen, bunnies, grandfather Mazai!“
So gutorya *, we swim in silence.
A column is not a column, a bunny on a stump,
Crossing his paws, he stands, unfortunate,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
Just started paddle work
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but fat as a merchant!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was shaking violently... It wasn't too early.
A knotty log floated past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
A dozen hares were saved 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 knot
And dragged a log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I rolled the village of bunnies:
"Look what old Mazai is doing!"
Okay! admire, but do not interfere with us!
We found ourselves behind the village in the river.
This is where my bunnies really went crazy:
They look, they stand on their hind legs,
They rock the boat, they don’t let row:
The shore was seen by slanting rogues,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
He moored the boat - and “God bless!” said ...
And in full spirit
The bunnies are gone.
And I told them: “Wow!
Live, animals!
Look oblique
Now save yourself
And chur in winter
Don't get caught!
Aim - boom!
And you'll lie down... U-u-u-x!..“
Instantly my team fled,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Very wet, weakened; in a bag
I put them down and brought them home.
During the night, my patients warmed up,
Dried up, slept, ate tightly;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
He shook it out, hooted - and they gave an arrow!
I followed them all with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds obliquely ... "
Illustrations by Veniamin Kostitsyn 1985
* Great snipe - a motley bird that lives in swamps.
Isstari - long time ago; from old times.
Thornoy - well-trodden, on which everyone walks.
Courage - passion, mood lift.
Poodle - miss shooting.
Gutorya - to chat, it means to talk, talk.
In August, near Small Vezha,
With old Mazay I beat snipes.
Somehow, it suddenly became especially quiet,
In the sky the sun played through the clouds.
The cloud was small on it,
And burst into violent rain!
Straight and bright, like steel bars,
Raindrops hit the ground
With a swift force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they hid in a shed.
Children, I will tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summer
I stay with him for a week.
I like his village
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial, hops will be born in it miraculously,
All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(Water understands all this area,
So the village rises in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his lowland to the point of passion.
He is a widow, childless, has only a grandson,
To walk on a thorny road is boredom for him!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He does not care to run away through the forests:
“The forest is not a road: according to the bird, according to the beast
You can fire it." - And the goblin? - "I do not believe!
Once in courage, I called them, waited
All night long, I didn't see anyone!
For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings softly,
As if in an empty barrel hoopoe
hoots; the owl scatters by night,
The horns are sharpened, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself became timid:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in a church when they served
Service and firmly closed the door,
What kind of pine creaks
Like an old woman grumbling in a dream ... "
Mazay does not spend a day without hunting.
If he lived nicely, he would not know care,
If only their eyes did not change:
Mazay often began to poodle.
However, he does not despair:
Grandpa will blurt out - the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with a slanting finger:
"You lie - you fall!" - good-naturedly shouts.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger of the gun,
Matches carries a box with him,
He sits behind a bush - he will lure the grouse,
He will put a match to the seed - and it will burst!
Walks with a gun another trapper,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?" -
It hurts, dear, I'm chilly with my hands;
If I now follow the hare,
First I sit down, put down my gun,
I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, then I'll shoot at the villain! -
"That's the hunter!" - Mazay added.
I confess, I laughed heartily.
However, a mile of peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noblemen?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote one for you ...
Old Mazai loosened up in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be conducted,
If they didn’t catch her with nets,
If only they didn’t crush her with snares;
Hares here too - sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! not much more! the men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience?
I went in a boat - there are a lot of them from the river
It catches up with us in the spring flood -
I'm going to catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares on it gathered in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; left under them
Less than an arshin of earth in width,
Less than a fathom in length.
Then I drove up: they babble with their ears,
Themselves from the spot; I took one
I commanded the rest: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
Only the oblique team sat down,
The whole island disappeared under water:
“That's it! I said, don't argue with me!
Listen, bunnies, grandfather Mazai!“
That way Gutorya, sailing in silence.
A column is not a column, a bunny on a stump,
Crossing his paws, he stands, unfortunate,
I took it too - the burden is not great!
Just started paddle work
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but fat as a merchant!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was shaking violently… It wasn't too early.
A knotty log floated past,
Sitting, and standing, and lying in a layer,
A dozen hares were saved 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 knot
And dragged a log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I rolled the village of bunnies:
"Look: what old Mazai is doing!"
Okay! admire, but do not interfere with us!
We found ourselves behind the village in the river.
This is where my bunnies really went crazy:
They look, they stand on their hind legs,
They rock the boat, they don’t let row:
The shore was seen by slanting rogues,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
He moored the boat - and “God bless!” said ...
And in full spirit
The bunnies are gone.
And I told them: “Wow!
Live, animals!
Look oblique
Now save yourself
And chur in winter
Don't get caught!
Aim - boom!
And you will lie down ... U-u-u-x! ..“
Instantly my team fled,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Very wet, weakened; in a bag
I put them down and brought them home.
During the night, my patients warmed up,
Dried up, slept, ate tightly;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
He shook it out, hooted - and they gave an arrow!
I followed them all with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds obliquely ... "
Analysis of the poem "Grandfather Mazai and Hares" by Nekrasov
In the work of Nekrasov, a special place is occupied by works for children. 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 a huge natural world, with which urban children have long lost contact. A striking example is the work "Grandfather Mazai and Hares".
The author describes his joint hunting with a villager - grandfather Mazai. He personifies a real hunter who has perfectly studied all the laws of nature and the habits of animals. Mazay is well versed in the forest, he is simply created for such a life. The poet listens with great interest to his stories and admires them. He notes that "peasant jokes" 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 Mazai himself. Nekrasov sought to convey all the richness and diversity of the well-aimed folk language. The plot is that Mazai saved a lot of hares on a boat during the flood. For a city dweller, such a story looks like complete fantasy. Moreover, grandfather colorfully describes the behavior of hares, which resemble people in distress. The story takes shape fairy tale. Mazay throughout the story 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 had not yet lost their connection with nature. Their communication with animals is based not on primitive superstition, but on the recognition that they are in many ways equal to humans. Grandfather Mazai says that he has never seen goblin (“I don’t believe!”). But this does not prevent him from talking with hares and believing that they understand him perfectly.
Mazai still remains a hunter. He helps the hares in a difficult situation, but, releasing them into the wild, he warns: "Do not get caught in winter!". Nekrasov does not want children to perceive the world as a calm idyll. The poet was a realist and sought to depict reality. Man is the king of nature, but that is why he must maintain justice and order. The noble deed of Mazai should teach children kindness and mercy to all beings.
Interesting story about animals. A story about rabbits. A story about kindness and love for animals
Nikolay Nekrasov. Grandfather Mazai and hares
In August, near Small Vezha,
With old Mazay I beat snipes.
Somehow, it suddenly became especially quiet,
The sun played through the clouds in the sky.
The cloud was small on it,
And burst into violent rain!
Straight and bright, like steel bars,
Raindrops hit the ground
With a swift force ... Me and Mazai,
Wet, they hid in a shed.
Children, I will tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summer
I stay with him for a week.
I like his village
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial, hops will be born in it miraculously,
All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(Water understands all this area,
So the village rises in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his lowland to the point of passion.
He is a widow, childless, has only a grandson,
Walking on a thorny road is boredom for him!
Forty miles straight to Kostroma
He does not care to run away through the forests:
“The forest is not a road: according to the bird, according to the beast
You can fire it." - "And the goblin?" - "I do not believe!
Once in courage, I called them, waited
All night, I didn't see anyone!
For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings softly,
As if in an empty barrel hoopoe
hoots; the owl scatters by night,
The horns are sharpened, the eyes are drawn.
At night ... well, at night I myself became timid:
It's very quiet in the forest at night.
Quiet as in a church when they served
Service and firmly closed the door,
What kind of pine creaks
Like an old woman grumbling in her sleep...
Mazay does not spend a day without hunting.
If he lived nicely, he would not know care,
If only their eyes did not change:
Mazay often began to poodle.
However, he does not despair:
Grandpa will blurt out, the hare leaves,
Grandfather threatens with a slanting finger:
"You lie - you fall!" - shouts good-naturedly.
He knows many funny stories
About glorious village hunters:
Kuzya broke the trigger of the gun,
Matches carries a box with him,
He sits behind a bush - he will lure the grouse,
He will put a match to the seed - and it will burst!
Walks with a gun another trapper,
Carries a pot of coals with him.
"Why are you carrying a pot of coals?"
- “It hurts, dear, I'm chilly with my hands;
If I now follow the hare,
First I sit down, put down my gun,
I will warm my hands over the coals,
Yes, then I’ll shoot at the villain! ”
"That's the hunter! “- Mazai added.
I confess, I laughed heartily.
However, a mile of peasant jokes
(How are they worse, however, noblemen?)
I heard stories from Mazai.
Children, I wrote one for you ...
Old Mazai loosened up in the barn:
"In our swampy, low-lying land
Five times more game would be conducted,
If they didn’t catch her with nets,
If only they didn’t crush her with snares;
Hares, too - they are sorry to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that, they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! not much more! the men are running
They catch, and drown, and beat them with hooks.
Where is their conscience?
I went in a boat - there are a lot of them from the river
It catches up with us in the spring flood, -
I'm going to catch them. The water is coming.
I see one small island -
Hares on it gathered in a crowd.
With every minute the water was getting closer
To the poor animals; left under them
Less than an arshin of earth in width,
Less than a fathom in length.
Then I drove up: they babble with their ears,
Themselves from the spot; I took one
I commanded the rest: jump yourself!
My hares jumped - nothing!
Only the oblique team sat down,
The whole island was lost under water.
“That's it! I said, don't argue with me!
Listen, bunnies, grandfather Mazai!
That way Gutorya, sailing in silence.
A column is not a column, a bunny on a stump,
Crossing his paws, he stands, unfortunate,
I took it - the burden is small!
Just started paddle work
Look, a hare is swarming by the bush -
Barely alive, but fat as a merchant!
I covered her, fool, with a zipun -
I was shaking violently... It wasn't too early.
A knotty log floated past,
A dozen hares were saved 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 knot
And dragged a log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I rolled the village of bunnies:
“Look at what old Mazai is doing!”
Okay! admire, but do not interfere with us!
We found ourselves behind the village in the river.
This is where my bunnies really went crazy:
They look, they stand on their hind legs,
They rock the boat, they don’t let row:
The shore was seen by slanting rogues,
Winter, and a grove, and thick bushes! ..
I drove a log tightly to the shore,
The boat moored - and "God bless!" said...
And in full spirit
The bunnies are gone.
And I told them: "Wow!"
Live, animals!
Look oblique
Now save yourself
And chur in winter
Don't get caught!
Aim - boom!
And you will lie down... Uuuh!..»
Instantly my team fled,
Only two couples left on the boat -
Very wet, weakened; in a bag
I laid them down and brought them home,
During the night, my patients warmed up,
Dried up, slept, ate tightly;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
He shook it out, hooted - and they gave an arrow!
I followed them all with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in the winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds a scythe ... "
