The Oak and the Reed

One day the oak said to the reed:
“You have good reasons to accuse Mother Nature
Even a little wren is for you a burden;
And the lightest wind that by chance
Wrinkles the surface of the stream
Forces you to bend your fragile head,
While I, standing high as a Caucasus Mountain,
Not only happy to block the brightest sunbeams,
I also brave the wildest storms.
What is Aquilon
If at least you were born under my green foliage
That covers the whole neighbourhood,
For sure, you would suffer much less:
I would protect you from the squalls
But most of the time, you are born
On the humid borders of the fierce wind’s kingdoms.
Mother Nature is truly unfair toward you.
- Your compassion, replied the shrub
Springs from a good heart; but have no fear about me:
The winds are less dangerous to me than to you;
I bend but do not break. You have until this time,
Valiantly resisted against their dreadful blows
Without even bending your back;
But let us wait the end.” And as he said these words,
Far from the horizon speeding in great fury
Appears the most fearful offspring
That the Great North had ever borne within his flanks.
The tree stands firm and the reed bends.
The wind redoubles his efforts,
And he does it so well that he deracinates
The one who for so long touched heaven with his head
And who with his feet reached the empire of the dead.