Prevod

Aesop told a fable of this kind: the birds gathered around the owl and begged her to leave the shelter of buildings and move her nest, as they did, into the trees and their branches, where her song could be heard more clearly. They urged her, too, to be ready to perch in a certain oak, just then beginning to grow, once it had reached its prime, and enjoy its leafy crown. But the owl advised the birds not to do this, nor to rejoice in the growth of a tree that would bear mistletoe, from which birdlime is made—the ruin of birds. The birds, however, would not heed the owl’s advice. On the contrary, they delighted in the growing oak, and when it was tall enough, they perched in it and sang. But when the birdlime was made and they found themselves easily caught by men, they regretted their folly and marveled at the owl’s advice. Even now they still regard her as clever and wise, and for that reason they like to draw near her, believing they will gain some benefit from her company. Yet they approach in vain, and to their own harm. For the owl of old was truly wise and able to give good counsel; those of today have only her feathers, her eyes, and her beak, and in all other respects are more foolish than the other birds.