Prevod

The swallows mocked the swans for refusing to associate with human beings or to share their music with the world, choosing instead to linger in meadows and by rivers, embracing solitude, singing little, and singing even that little only among themselves, as though ashamed of their music. “Ours,” they said, “are the cities, the people, and their chambers. We chatter away to human beings and tell them our story—all those ancient tales of Attica: Pandion, Athens, Tereus, Thrace, the journey abroad, the marriage, the outrage, the cutting out of the tongue, the written message, and, above all, Itys, and how we were changed from human beings into birds.” The swans, disgusted by their chatter, scarcely thought them worth an answer. But when at last they deigned to reply, they said, “Yet for our sake, my dears, someone might venture even into the wilderness to hear our music, when we let the west wind breathe something sweet and harmonious through our wings. If we do not sing much or before great crowds, that is precisely what is finest about us: we cultivate our song with restraint and do not mingle our music with noise. But people resent you even when you make your homes among them, and turn away when you sing—and quite rightly, since even with your tongues cut out you cannot keep quiet. You bewail your own lost voices and the suffering you endured, yet is there a single fluent speaker or accomplished singer whom you do not outdo in chatter?”