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A donkey driver, scepter in hand,
Led, like a Roman Emperor,
Two steeds with long ears.
One, laden with sponges, marched like a courier;
And the other, making himself begged,
Carried, as they say, the bottles:
His load was salt. Our gallant pilgrims,
Over hills, over dales, and along roads,
At the ford of a river at last arrived,
And found themselves greatly hindered.
The driver, who every day crossed that ford,
Mounted the donkey with the sponges,
Driving before him the other beast,
Who, wanting to have his own way,
Threw himself headlong into a hole,
Came back onto the water, then escaped;
For after a few strokes of swimming,
All his salt dissolved so well
That the donkey felt nothing
On his relieved shoulders.
His comrade the sponge-bearer took example from him,
Like a sheep that goes on the faith of another.
There is my donkey in the water; up to his neck he plunges,
He, the driver, and the sponge.
All three drank accordingly: the driver and the gray
Did honor to the sponge.
This one became so heavy,
And with so much water filled itself at once,
That the donkey, succumbing, could not gain the bank.
The driver embraced him, awaiting
A prompt and certain death.
Someone came to the rescue: who it was, no matter;
It is enough that we have seen thereby that one must not
Act each in the same way.
That is the point I wanted to reach.
Jean de La Fontaine
Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.
Text published on Poésies 123: https://www.poesies123.com/en/fable-the-donkey-laden-with-sponges-and-the-donkey-laden-with-salt-jean-de-la-fontaine/