The Crow and the Fox. The Wolf at the Kennel. The Pig under the Oak

The Raven and the Fox:
How many times the world has been told,
That flattery is vile and harmful;
But it has all been in vain,
For in the heart, the flatterer always finds a corner.
Where the Raven, somewhere, heaven sends a piece of cheese;
Perched upon the spruce, the Raven quite meant
To have breakfast—so she gathered to do,
But thought about it while holding the cheese in her mouth.
To her misfortune, the Fox was running close at hand;
Sudden the cheese’s scent stopped the Fox:
The Fox sees the cheese—
The cheese has bewitched the Fox.
The schemer approaches the tree on tiptoe,
With her tail wagging, eyes never leaving the Raven
And says so sweetly, hardly breathing:
"My dear dove, how lovely you are!
What a neck, what eyes!
If you tell tales, then it’s truly fairy tales!
What feathers! What a fine little muzzle!
And surely—an angel’s voice
Must be yours!
Sing, dearie, don’t be ashamed!
If, sister, with such beauty
You’ll be the master at singing—
Then you’d be among us the royal bird!"
In flattery praise her head began to spin,
From joy her throat could hardly breathe—
And at the friendly Fox’s words,
The Raven croaked out loud, through the whole throat of all Ravens:
The cheese fell—
And with it, so ended the schemer.

The Wolf in the Sheepfold:
At night, thinking to sneak into the pen,
The Wolf got into the sheepfold.
Up rose the entire yard—
Feeling the grey intruder so near,
The dogs burst into the barns and strain to get out for a fight;
The keepers shout: “At last, lads—there’s a thief!”—
And instantly the gates are bolted tight;
In a minute the sheepfold became Hell.
They run: one with sticks,
Another with rifles.
“Fire!” they cry, “Fire!”—
They came with fire.
My Wolf sits, pressed into the corner with his backside.
Snapping his teeth and bristling his fur,
With his eyes, it seems, he’d like to eat them all;
But seeing this isn’t a flock to be devoured
And that—at last—
He must pay for the sheep,
My sly one began negotiations
And said at once: “Friends! Why all this uproar?
I’m your old companion and godfather,
Came to make peace with you, not for a quarrel;
Let us forget the past, set a common order!
And I won’t only leave these flocks alone in future,
But I’m happy to fight for them too—with others—
And I swear, by the wolf’s oath, that I…”
“Just listen, neighbor,”
The huntsman interrupted in reply,
“You’re grey, and I, my friend, am grey-haired;
I know your wolf-nature well;
So that is my custom:
To make peace with wolves, we do it differently—
By taking their skins away, right off.”
And right then he unleashed on the Wolf
A pack of hounds.

The Pig Under the Oak:
Under the age-old Oak,
The Pig ate acorns to full measure—until she was stuffed;
Having eaten, she slept beneath it.
Then, rubbing her eyes and rising,
She stood there and began to dig up the roots at the Oak with her snout.

"For that harms the tree," the Raven says to her,
"If you expose the roots, it may dry up."
"Let it dry," says the Pig,
"It doesn’t bother me at all.
I see little use in it;
Even if it’s never lived another century, I’ll hardly care.
I only need acorns—for I grow fat on them."

"Ingrateful creature!" the Oak replied,
"If only you could lift your snout upward,
You’d see
That these very acorns grow on me."
An ignorant fool, in blindness,
Blames science and learning
And all the scholars’ labor,
Not realizing he is enjoying their fruits.