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 some shed.
Children, I'll tell you about Mazai.
Coming home every summer
I visit him for a week.
I like his village:
Taking it away beautifully in the summer,
From time immemorial, the hop in it will be born wonderfully,
She is all drowning in green gardens;
Houses in it on high pillars
(Water understands this whole area,
So the village pops up in the spring,
Like Venice). Old Mazai
He loves his low-lying land to 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 off 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 lingonberries, raspberries in passing;
In the evening the chiffchaff sings tenderly
Like an empty hoopoe in a barrel
Eats; 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 didn't 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,
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, I'm chilly with my hands;
If now I will look after the hare,
Before I sit down, 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 have 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 - sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are hundreds of ginut, -
No! still a little! 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 under them
Less than an yard 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!
Only the team 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 to paddle
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 have taken you - but sink the boat!"
It is a pity for them, however, but a pity for the find -
I got hooked on a twig
And dragged the log behind him ...
It was fun for women, children,
How I gave a ride to the village of hares:
"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 are not allowed to row:
The coast was seen by the slanting rogues,
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, slept well, ate well;
I took them out to the meadow; out of the bag
Shook it out, hooted - and gave a stretch!
I followed them with the same advice:
"Don't get caught in winter!"
I don't hit them either in spring or summer,
The skin is bad, - it sheds sideways ...
