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A Poem: The Sow Under The Oak Tree 

Beneath an oak a sow pigged out on acorns,
Then napped under the shady canopy,
At last, refreshed, she set her snout to digging,
Baring the roots that fed the ancient tree.

“Stop! Stop!” called out a raven from the branches.
“The oak tree’s roots are damaged when you dig.”
“What do I care if this useless stump does wither?
Acorns are all I’m after,” said the pig.

The oak tree’s voice then joined the conversation.
“Ingrate!” said to the swine the mighty tree,
“If you could lift your snout up from your grubbing,
You’d see that all the acorns come from me.”

-------

An ignoramus mocking education,
Scoffing at science, is blind just like that sow,
Failing to see that on the tree of knowledge
Ripened the comforts he’s enjoying now.

Speaking of...

  • A poem by Ivan Andreyevich Krylov, translated by Yana Kane.

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