The fox and the raven

—Un matí de primavera, dalt d'un pi alt i engrunsat per una brisa suau de llevant, hi havia un corb damunt d'una branca. Portava al bec un tros de formatge. No era gran cosa, però feia molt bona olor i ell estava content.

—The crow was happy, proud. He felt the biggest crow in the world. He had found the cheese all by himself.

—L'havia trobat ell a soles i no volia compartir-lo amb ningú.

—With nobody's help! So… He sat, ready to enjoy it in peace.

—Des de la soca d'un garrofer, la rabosa l'observava.

—The fox was watching him.

—Feia dies que la rabosa no trobava res per a menjar i aquell formatge brillava com un sol de vesprada. Va pensar, va rumiar... I va somriure.

—She smiled? Why? Why did she do it, Susanna? Why was she smiling? Maybe she had a plan to take the cheese.

—Així és, Desmond. La rabosa no sabia volar, però sabia parlar molt bonic.

—The fox walked under the tree and said: “Oh, magnificent bird! What feathers! What elegance!” She spoke like poetry wrapped in sugar. You know what I mean, Susanna.

—Oh, corb estimat!,—va dir ella—. Quina elegància! Quin plomatge tan noble! Segur que, si cantares, tot el bosc callaria per a escoltar-te.

—The crow blinked. He had heard nice words like that before.

—Feia un temps, sa mare li havia dit: “Si algú et diu massa coses boniques sense conéixer-te, obri els ulls i tanca el bec”. Així que el corb no digué res. Només mirà la rabosa: semblava famolenca.