Nikolay Nekrasov - Grandfather Mazai and Hares: Verse. At the heart of the poem "grandfather Mazai and hares are real facts that happened in the Vyatka settlement of Dymkovo. Who wrote about smearing

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, -
No! 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!"
OK! 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 the vast natural world, with which city children had long lost contact. A striking example is the work "Grandfather Mazai and Hares".

The author describes his joint hunting with a villager - grandfather Mazay. 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 on the features of a 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.

Dear parents, it is very useful to read the fairy tale "Grandfather Mazai and the Hares" by Nekrasov N.A. to children before going to bed, so that a good ending to the fairy tale pleases and calms them and they fall asleep. All images are simple, ordinary and do not cause youthful misunderstanding, because we encounter them daily in our everyday life. Each time, reading this or that epic, one feels the incredible love with which the images of the environment are described. All the heroes were "honed" by the experience of the people, who for centuries created, strengthened and transformed them, devoting great and profound importance to children's education. Dozens, hundreds of years separate us from the time of creation of the work, but the problems and customs of people remain the same, practically unchanged. The plot is simple and old as the world, but each new generation finds in it something relevant and useful for itself. A person's worldview is formed gradually, and such works are extremely important and instructive for our young readers. The tale "Grandfather Mazai and the Hares" by N. A. Nekrasov is definitely worth reading for free online, there is a lot of kindness, love and chastity in it, which is useful for educating a young individual.

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,

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 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 ...

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, -

No! 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!"

OK! 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!

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, -

No! 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!"

OK! 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 ... "

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,
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 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.

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, too, - sorry for them to tears!
Only spring waters will rush
And without that they are dying by the hundreds, -
No! 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.
“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!”
OK! 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 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 ... "

Composition

The work of N. A. Nekrasov in the field of children's poetry was a new step in its development. The great democratic poet created a large cycle of poems for children, reflecting in it the ideas and requirements of contemporary democratic pedagogy and the revolutionary democratic trend in the realistic literature of that time. Understanding well the importance of children's reading in shaping the personality of the child, her civic qualities, Nekrasov addressed his poems to those on whom he had high hopes in fulfilling the future destinies of Russia - peasant children.

The poet gave the poems a new form, not developed by anyone before him, close to colloquial peasant speech. He introduced expressive folk language into children's poetry. One of Nekrasov's poems "Grandfather Mazai and Hares" (1870). In it, the poet-citizen reveals to young readers the poetry of peasant life, inspires them with love and respect for the common people, showing the spiritual generosity of such original natures as grandfather Mazai. The poem is written in the form of a confidential story of a poet, a passionate hunter, about his companion, also a hunter, old Mazai. Like any hunting story, this poetic story is replete with details of an almost unbelievable, but nevertheless true case. The narrator narrates with the thoroughness of a joker, seeking to convince his listeners of the veracity of the story:

* In August, near Small Vezha
* With old Mazay, I beat the great snipes.
* Somehow it suddenly became especially quiet,
* In the sky the sun played through the clouds.
* The cloud was small on it,
* And it burst into violent rain! This insignificant detail - that there was heavy rain from a small cloud - should give the description a special authenticity. The story about the old, good-natured and kind Mazai and his village immediately becomes the center of attraction of the poem. Side stories only give the presentation a conversational ease. Speech does not tire the little reader: his attention switches from subject to subject. Here are well-aimed remarks about the evening singing of the warbler, and the hooting of a hoopoe - “as if in an empty barrel”, about an owl - “the horns are chiseled, the eyes are drawn”. Here is a peasant "joke" about some Kuza, who broke the trigger of a gun and set fire to the seed with matches; about another "trapper", who, in order not to chill his hands, dragged a pot of coals with him to hunt. The poet gives the floor to Mazai himself:

* I heard stories from Mazai.
* Children, I wrote one for you ...

Mazai tells how in the spring, during the flood, he swam along the flooded river and picked up hares: first he took several from the island on which the hares crowded to escape the water that was rising all around, then he picked up a hare from a stump, on which, “crossing its paws ”, stood the “unfortunate”, but the log with a dozen animals sitting on it had to be hooked with a hook - they would not all fit in the boat.

In Mazai's story, there is good humor, genuine love for everything living, there are no "compassionate", tearful intonations in it. This is the speech of a real, living humanist, a zealous owner and a good hunter, to whom honor and a good heart do not allow him to take advantage of the misfortune that has come to the animals. Having released the hares, Mazai “hooted” after them:

* “Live, little animals!
* Look, oblique, now save yourself,
* A chur in winter Do not get caught!
* Aim - boom! And you will lie down ... Uuu-h! .. "