Prevod

(When many people work together on a piece, each wants to claim it if it is good, and blames the others if it is bad.) Attend, my noble audience, For I have tuned my bandurria, And you will thank me when you hear The lively ballad I shall sing. At the court of the lion, 5 Upon his birthday, A number of animals Arranged an evening’s revelry; And to open the proceedings With the proper ceremony, 10 They thought a musical concert Would suit the occasion well. Since, when it comes to choosing The appropriate parts, People do not always show 15 The judgment that is needed, They never spoke of the nightingale, Nor gave the blackbird a thought, Nor considered the calandra lark, The goldfinch, or the canary. 20 Less accomplished singers, Though more self-assured, Offered to take charge Of the entertainment. Before the hour arrived 25 For the singing they had planned, Each musician said, “Just wait— You’ll see what a treat awaits!” At last the whole ensemble Appeared upon the stage, 30 Composed of the following Supremely gifted performers. Two crickets were the trebles; Frog and cicada, contraltos; Two horseflies were the tenors; 35 The pig and the donkey, basses. With what delightful cadence, With what delicate expression Their music must have sounded, There is no need to dwell upon. 40 Suffice it to say that most Put their hands over their ears And, out of respect for the lion, Concealed their disappointment. From their faces, however, 45 The frog could plainly tell That there would be very little Clapping or cries of “Bravo!” She stepped out of the circle and said, “How out of tune the donkey is!” 50 He replied, “It’s the trebles Who are singing out of tune.” “The one who ruins everything,” Added a cricket shrilly, “Is the pig.” “Not so fast,” 55 The porker then replied; “No one sings more out of tune Than the cicada, our contralto.” “Mind your manners, and speak civilly,” The cicada burst out. “That’s false! 60 Those horsefly tenors Are the ones who cause the trouble.” The lion cut the quarrel short, Saying, “You great rogues! Before you began your singing, 65 Were you not all praising it? Each of you intended To claim the applause himself, As though the whole success Would be owing to his song. 70 But now you see the concert Is a little hell on earth, No one wants a share in it, And each blames all the others. Never again come 75 Into my presence: be gone! For if you sing to me again, I shall wreak havoc among you.” If only Heaven would decree That the very same should happen 80 When, sharing in the work, Three writers or four Each seek all the glory If the book is good, or middling, While their fellows bear 85 The blame if it turns out badly!