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 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,
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 the winter!"
I do not beat them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, it sheds obliquely ... "
This work of Nekrasov in verse undoubtedly deserves attention. These are not just poems, and this is not only a whole story about a hunter who had to save wild hares from floods. 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 Vezhy",
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 
All of it is drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
In the summer, cleaning it beautifully,
From time immemorial, hops will be born in it miraculously, 
(Water raises 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, with 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 blurt out." - And the goblin? - "I don’t believe it!
Once in courage * I called them, I was waiting
All night long, I didn't see anyone!
* (In courage - in enthusiasm.)
For the day of mushrooms you pick up a basket,
Eat lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening, the warbler 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.
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 *.
* (Poodle - shoot past the target.)
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.
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, - sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
Not! little 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.
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 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 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 ... "
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 ... "
