The Parrot

Fable by Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian Period 18th century

A big gray parrot, escaped from his cage,
came and settled in a grove:
and there, adopting the tone of our false connoisseurs,
judging everything, blaming everything, with an air of self-importance,
in the nightingale’s song he found longueurs,
criticized above all its cadence.
The linnet, according to him, did not know how to sing;
the warbler might have done something perhaps,
if he had early been her master
and she had wished to profit from it.
In short, no bird had the art of pleasing him;
and as soon as they began their joyful songs,
with whistles answering their sounds,
the parrot made them fall silent.
Weary of so many affronts, all the birds of the wood
come to say to him one day: but speak then, fine sire,
you who are always whistling, make yourself admired;
no doubt you have a brilliant voice,
deign to sing to instruct us.
The parrot, in his embarrassment,
scratches his head a little, and ends by saying to them:
gentlemen, I whistle well, but I do not sing.

Florian

Translation generated by Poésies 123 with assistance from the deepseek-chat artificial-intelligence model.

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