The Proud Oak Tree
OLD FABLE
(Translated)
The
oak said to the reed that grew by the river: "It is no
wonder that you make such a sorrowful moaning, for you are
so weak that the little wren is a burden for you, and the
lightest breeze must seem like a storm-wind. Now look at me!
No
storm has ever been able to bow my head. You will be much
safer if you grow close to my side so that I may shelter you
from the wind that is now playing with my leaves."
"Do not worry about me," said the reed; "I have less reason
to fear the wind than you have. I bow myself, but I never
break. He who laughs last, laughs best!"
That night there came a fearful hurricane. The oak stood
erect. The reed bowed itself before the blast. The wind grew
more furious, and, uprooting the proud oak, flung it on the
ground.
When the morning came there stood the slender reed,
glittering with dewdrops, and softly swaying in the breeze.
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