Master Raven, perched in a tree,
Held a cheese in his beak.
Master Fox, drawn by the aroma,
Spoke to him more or less these words:
"Hey, good day, Mister Raven,
How attractive you are! How handsome you seem to me!
To speak truly, if your song
Is a match for your plumage, 
You are the phoenix of the hosts of this wood."
At these words the raven was beside himself with joy;
And, to show off his beautiful voice,
He opened his beak wide, dropping his prey.
The fox seized it, and said, "My good sir,
Learn that every flatterer
Lives at the expense of those who listen to him:
This lesson is doubtless well worth a cheese."
The raven, ashamed and embarrassed,
Swore, but a little late, that he wouldn't be taken in again.

The cicada, having sung
All summer long,
Found herself entirely destitute 
When the north wind came:
Not a single tiny morsel
Of fly or of worm.
She went to cry famine
At the ant's house next door,
Imploring her to lend her
Some speck to tide her over
Until the next spring.
"I'll pay you," she said,
"Before August, animal's honor,
Interest and principal."
The ant was not one to lend,
That was the least of her faults.
"What did you do in the warm weather?"
Said she to that borrower.
"Night and day to all and sundry
I sang, if you don't mind."
"You sang? I'm so delighted.
Well then! Now you can dance."

Once the city rat
Invited the country rat,
In a very polite way,
To eat leftover ortolan.

On a Turkish rug
The table was laid.
I leave to the imagination the life
That these two friends led.

The banquet was quite respectable,
The feast lacked nothing;
But someone disturbed the party
While they were in the midst of it.

At the door of the room 
They heard a noise:
The city rat ran off;
His comrade followed suit.

The noise stopped; its source withdrew;
The rats at once returned to business,
And the city-dweller said,
"Let us finish our roast."

"That's enough," said the rustic,
"Tomorrow you will come dine with me:
It's not that I pride myself
On kingly feasts such as yours;

"But nothing comes to interrupt me:
I eat entirely at my leisure.
So farewell; fie upon the pleasure 
That can be spoiled by fear."

One should, as much as one can, oblige everyone:
One often has need of someone lesser than oneself.
Two fables bear witness to this truth,
So much does the matter abound in proofs.
Between the paws of a lion
A rat emerged from the ground quite in a daze.
The King of Beasts, on this occasion,
Showed his true character, and spared his life.
This kindness was not wasted.
Would anyone ever have thought 
That a lion had need of a rat?
Nevertheless it happened that when leaving the forest
This lion was caught by snares,
From which his roaring could not free him.
Sir Rat came running, and made such use of his teeth
That one gnawed stitch disposed of the whole affair.
Patience and length of time
Achieve more than force or rage.

The second example is drawn from smaller animals.
Along a clear stream a dove was drinking,
When an ant leaning over the water fell in.
And in that ocean the ant could be seen
Striving, but in vain, to regain the shore.
The dove at once exercised charity:
She threw a blade of grass into the water,
And it became a promontory where the ant landed.
She was saved; and thereupon 
A certain peasant passed by, walking barefoot.
It happened that this peasant had a crossbow.
As soon as he saw the bird of Venus
He imagined her in his pot, and was already celebrating.
While my villager was preparing to kill her,
The ant nipped him on the heel.
The lout turned his head;
The dove heard him, went off, and made her escape.
The peasant's supper took wing with her:
Not even an obol's worth of pigeon.