"Un jour, sur ses longs pieds, allait je ne sais où, Le Héron au long bec emmanché d'un long cou. Il côtoyait une rivière. L'onde était transparente ainsi qu'aux plus beaux jours ;..."
"One day, no matter when or where, A long-legged heron chanced to fare By a certain river's brink, With his long, sharp beak Helved on his slender neck; It was a fish-spear, you might think. The water was clear and still, What, tench for a heron! poh! I scorn the thought, and let them go." The tench refused, there came a gudgeon; "For all that," said the bird, "I budge on. I'll never open my beak, if the gods please, For such mean little fishes as these." He did it for less; For it came to pass, That not another fish could he see; And, at last, so hungry was he, That he thought it of some avail To find on the bank a single snail.