The cicada, having sung
All summer,
Was extremely deprived
When the north wind came:
Not one small piece
Of fly or small worm.
She went to plead famine
At the house of her neighbor the Ant,
Asking him to lend her
Some grain to survive
Until the new season.
“I will pay you,” she says to him,
“Before August, faith of animal,
Interest and the principal”
The Ant is not a lender:
That is its least defect.
“What did you do in warm weather?”
He says to the borrower.
“Night and day all came
I sang, not displeasing you.”
“You sang? I am relieved.
Well! Dance now.”