The Milkmaid and the Milk Pot

Fable by Jean De La Fontaine Collection The FablesThemes Dreams, FoodPeriod 17th century

Perrette, with a milk pot on her head,
Set well upon a cushion,
Expected to reach the town without mishap.
Light and scantily clad, she walked with great strides;
Having put on that day, to be more nimble,
A simple petticoat and flat shoes.
Our milkmaid thus attired
Already counted in her thoughts
The whole price of her milk, spent the money,
Bought a hundred eggs, made a triple brood;
Things were going well through her diligent care.
It is easy, she said,
To raise chicks around my house:
The Fox will be very clever
If he does not leave me enough to have a pig.
The pig will cost little bran to fatten;
It was, when I got it, of reasonable size:
I will have, selling it, good and proper money.
And who will prevent me from putting in our stable,
Given the price it is worth, a cow and her calf,
Which I will see leaping in the midst of the herd?
Perrette thereupon leaps too, carried away.
The milk falls; farewell calf, cow, pig, brood;
The lady of these goods, turning a sorrowful eye
From her fortune thus spilled,
Goes to apologize to her husband
In great danger of being beaten.
The tale was made into a farce;
It was called The Milk Pot.
What mind does not wander?
Who does not build castles in Spain?
Picrochole, Pyrrhus, the Milkmaid, finally all,
As much the wise as the foolish?
Everyone dreams while awake, there is nothing sweeter:
A flattering error then carries away our souls:
All the good of the world is ours,
All honors, all women.
When I am alone, I defy the bravest;
I step aside, I go to dethrone the Sophi;
I am elected king, my people love me;
Diadems rain upon my head:
Should some accident make me return to myself;
I am plain John as before.

Jean de La Fontaine

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

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