A certain Gascon fox—others say Norman—

Nearly dying of hunger, saw high up on a vine

Some grapes, seemingly ripe,

And covered with a rosy skin.

The gallant would very gladly have made a meal of them;

But since he could not reach them,

“They are too green,” he said, “and good only for louts.”

Did he not act better than to complain?

Xovɛ ɖibla hù Gascon sín gbenɔ é mɛɖé lɛ nɔ ɖɔ Norman é,

É mɔ nǔ ɖò vǐwuntín ɖé ta,

Vǐwun ɖé lɛ́ɛ, é cí ɖɔ yě ko mya ɖɔhun;

Bɔ è sɔ́ anyǔ vɔvɔ ɖé dó cyɔn ná.

Nya akɔ́nkpantɔ́ ɔ́ ná ko zé yě do bló

Nǔɖuɖu nî ná kpó xomɛhunhun kpó;

Amɔ̌, ɖó é sixú kpé yě wú ǎ wutu ɔ́:

É ɖɔ ɖɔ ye nɔ nyí amamu dín,

Bo nɔ jɛxa glesi lɛ kɛɖɛ.

É nyɔ́ hú ɖɔ é ni ɖò nǔ hlún ɖɔ wɛ à cé?

Certain renard gascon, d’autres disent normand,

Mourant presque de faim, vit au haut d’une treille

Des raisins, mûrs apparemment,

Et couverts d’une peau vermeille.

Le galant en eût fait volontiers un repas;

Mais comme il n’y pouvoit atteindre:

Ils sont trop verts, dit-il, et bons pour des goujats.

Fit-il pas mieux que de se plaindre?

Kọ̀lọ̀kọ̀lọ̀ kan lati Gascon, awon miran wipe lati Normandie,

Ti fẹrẹ ku nitori ebi, ri awọn eso

Àjàrà, ti o dabi pe ti pọn loke rere,

Ati ti o bo pelu awọ pupa didan.

Akọni naa yoo ti fẹran lati jẹ wọn pẹlu ayọ,

Sugbon niwọn igbati ko le de ibẹ:

Owipe, wọn ti jẹ alawọ ewe ju, ati

Pe wọn dara fun awon onijangbọn.

Se ko se daradara ju ki o maa se aroye lọ?

Deadly struck by a feathered arrow,

A bird lamented his miserable fate,

And said, while enduring an added pain:

“Must one contribute to one’s own misfortune!

Cruel humans! From our wings you draw

The means to make those deadly machines fly!

But do not mock, pitiless race:

It often happens to you as it did to us.

Of the children of Japetus, there will always be one half

To furnish weapons to the other.”

Xɛví ɖé ɖo aluwɛ mɛ ɖó nǔ e jɛ dó wǔ tɔn é wú,

Gǎ wɛ e ze do gble wu nî.

É nɔ ɖɔ: “Wǔvɛ́ e mɔ wɛ è ɖe ɔ́ gɔ́

Nú wǔvɛ́ e é unɖesú nɔ́ gɔ́ ná ɔ́;

Mɛɖé ɖó na ɖ’alɔ ɖò awěxomɛ éɖesunɔ tɔn mɛ à!

Gbɛtɔ́ adakaxotɔ́ lɛ!

Sín awa mǐtɔn lɛ mɛ wɛ mi nɔ dɔn

Nǔ e è na zán dó bló bɔ macinu kúkú

Tɔn enɛ lɛ zɔn yì jǐxwé é!

Amɔ̌, mi ma ko nǔbláwǔkúnúmɛtɔ́ lɛ́ɛ ó;

Hwɛhwɛ ɔ, nǔ e cí mǐtɔn ɖɔhun é nɔ jɛ dó jǐ towe.

Ðò Japetu ví lɛ mɛ ɔ, hwebǐnu ɔ, vlɔɖówe

Na na ahwanfunnú mɛ wegɔ ɔ.

Mortellement atteint d’une flèche empennée,

Un oiseau déploroit sa triste destinée,

Et disoit, en souffrant un surcroît de douleur:

Faut-il contribuer à son propre malheur!

Cruels humains! vous tirez de nos ailes

De quoi faire voler ces machines mortelles!

Mais ne vous moquez point, engeance sans pitié:

Souvent il vous arrive un sort comme le nôtre.

Des enfants de Japet toujours une moitié

Fournira des armes à l’autre.

Ẹyẹ kan n kerora ibanujẹ lori ayanmọ rẹ,

Ti ọfa iku lu ni iyẹ apa rẹ.

O wi, nigba ti o n farada irora ti a fi kun:

Se dandan ni ki eniyan fi kun ipalara ti ẹnikan ni?

Eyin eniyan buburu!

Lati inu iyẹ apa wa lo ti ya ọna lati ṣe awọn ọfa iku to n fo!

Ṣugbọn e ma ṣe fi wa ṣe erin, iran ti ko ni aanu:

O n fi igba gbogbo ṣẹlẹ si ọ gẹgẹ bi o ti ṣẹlẹ si wa.

Lati inu awọn ọmọ Japetusi, idaji nigbagbogbo

Ni yio ma pese irin ija fun idaji keji.

One day, a cock hijacked

A pearl, which he gave

To the first fine jeweler he saw.

“I believe it’s precious,” said he;

“But the smallest grain of millet

Would serve me far better.”

An ignorant man inherited

A manuscript, which he carried

To his neighbor the bookseller.

“I believe,” said he, “that it is good;

But the smallest silver coin

Would serve me far better.”

Gbè ɖokpo sù bɔ, koklósú ɖé fin

Jɛ̌ ɖé, bɔ é sɔ́ ná ganɖɛkpɛɖɛkpɛtuntɔ́

nukɔntɔn è é mɔ é,

Bó ɖɔ: “Un mɔ ɖɔ é nyɔ́;

“Amɔ̌, linfín sínsɛ́n kpɛví bǐ ɔ́,

É ná nyɔ́ nú mì hú mɔ̌.”

Nya e ma tuùn nǔ ǎ é ɖé ɖu gǔ

Alɔwliwli ɖé, bɔ é yí

Nu nɔzo tɔn, wemasatɔ ɔ.

É ɖɔ : “Un lin ɖɔ é nyɔ;

“Amɔ̌, jɛ̌gan kpɛví bǐ ɔ,

É ná nyɔ́ nú mì hú mɔ̌.”

Un jour un coq détourna

Une perle, qu’il donna

Au beau premier lapidaire.

Je la crois fine, dit-il;

Mais le moindre grain de mil

Seroit bien mieux mon affaire.

Un ignorant hérita

D’un manuscrit, qu’il porta

Chez son voisin le libraire.

Je crois, dit-il, qu’il est bon;

Mais le moindre ducaton

Seroit bien mieux mon affaire.

Lọjọ kan adie akukọ ja

Okuta iyebiye kan gba, eyi ti o fi fun

alágbẹ̀dẹ akọkọ ti o ri. O si wi pe,

Mo gbagbọ pe o ṣe iyebiye;

Ṣugbọn eyin oka kekere julọ

Ni yoo dara jù fún mi.

Alailoye okunrin kan jogun

Iwe atijọ kan, ti o gbele rẹ lọ

Si ọdọ aládàájọ iwe aládùúgbò rẹ.

O si wi pe,

Mo ro pe o dára;

Ṣugbọn owó kekere

Ni yoo dara jù fún mi.

Alas! What avails me that so perfectly

You once praised my golden tress,

And the beauty of my eyes compared

To two Suns, from which Love, skillfully,

Drew the darts that caused his torment?

Where are you now, tears of little span?

And death, through whom should have been honored

Your steadfast love and oft-repeated vow?

So then, was it the goal of your malice

To enslave me under the guise of service?

Forgive me, Friend, this one time,

Being overcome with both spite and anger;

Yet I am sure, wherever you may be,

That as much as I, you suffer martyrdom.

Ée! Etɛ ka nyí lè nú mì bɔ un bló mɔ̌ mlɛ́mlɛ́

È kpa susu nú ɖa ce e è sɔ́ siká dó bló é hwe ɖokpó ɔ́,

Bɔ ɖɛkpɛ nukún ce lɛ́ɛ tɔn jlɛ́ dó

Hwe we lɛ nu, bɔ Wanyiyi nɔ gosin ye mɛ

Dɔn nǔ e zɔ́n bɔ é jiya lɛ é à?

Fítɛ́ a ɖe, ɖasin e nɔ wá yi é?

Bɔ fítɛ́ mɛkúkú e jí wanyiyi towe maɖóblɔ̌ ɔ́ kpódó akpá e

A dó azɔn mɔkpan é kpó ɖó ná ɖe sísí ná ɔ́ ka ɖe?

Enɛ wu ɔ, linlin nyanya towe wɛ nyí ɖɔ a

Ni sɔ́ mì dó kannumɔgbenu ɖò sinsɛnzɔ́ sín awu mɛ à?

Sɔ́ hwɛ kɛ mì, Xɔ́ntɔn ce, hwe elɔ nu ɔ,

Xomɛgle kpo xomɛsin kpo nɔ gɔ́ ayi mɛ nú mɛ;

Amɔ̌, un nɔ na jiɖe nyiɖée ɖɔ, fí ɖebǔ e a na nɔ é ɔ,

A na jiya ɖó kúɖiɖi tɔn wu lee un nɔ jiya gbɔn é.

Las! Que me sert que si parfaitement

Loua jadis ma tresse dorée,

Et de mes yeux la beauté comparée

A deux Soleils, dont Amour finement

Tira les traits causes de son tourment?

Où êtes-vous, pleurs de peu de durée?

Et mort par qui devait être honorée

Ta ferme amour et itéré serment?

Doncques c’était le but de ta malice

De m’asservir sous ombre de service ?

Pardonne-moi, Ami, à cette fois,

Étant outrée et de dépit et d’ire;

Mais je m’assur’, quelque part que tu sois,

Qu’autant que moi tu souffres de martyre.

Eh! Kini anfaani pe ni pipe bẹẹ

O ti fi igba kan ri yin irun wura mi,

Ati pe ẹwa oju mi sa fi we

Si Orun meji, nibi Ife ni oye

Fa ọfa rẹ ti o mu ipọnju rẹ wa?

Ibo ni ẹyin wa, ẹyin omije, igba kuru?

Ati iku nipasẹ ẹni ti a ba ti bọla fun

Iduro sinsin ifẹ ati ẹjẹ rẹ ti o n fi igba gbogbo jẹ?

Nitorina, eyi ni ilepa ikun sinu rẹ,

Lati jẹ ki n ṣẹru labẹ ojiji iṣẹ rẹ?

Dariji mi, Ore, fun igba kan yi,

A bori mi pẹlu ikerora ati ibinu;

Sibẹ odamiloju, ibikibi ti o wu ko wa,

Pe bi emi pẹlu, iwọ naa n jẹ irora ijakadi.

Lute, companion of my calamity,

Irreproachable witness of my sighs,

True examiner of my afflictions,

Thou hast often lamented with me;

And so much has my pitiful weeping wearied thee

That, beginning some delightful sound,

Thou madest it all at once lamentable,

Feigning the tone thou hadst sung full of joy.

And if thou wouldst strive to do the contrary,

Thou slackenest, and so constrainest me to be silent;

But seeing me tenderly sigh,

Granting favor to my so sad complaint,

In my sorrows I am forced to take pleasure,

And of a sweet woe sweet end to hope.

Gǎngǎnwîn, gbɛ̌ ce adǎnhwěnú tɔn,

Kúnnuɖetɔ́ e è ma ɖó blɔ ǎ é

Wɛ núwè ɖò azɔnwinwɛ ce lɛ mɛ,

Hwi mɛ e nɔ wlán aluwɛ ce lɛ́ɛ sín tan nǔgbó ɔ́,

A nɔ ya avǐ hwɛhwɛ ɖo akpá ce;

Bɔ avǐ ce e vɛ́ jlɛ́ é dó tagba nú we mɔ̌.

Enɛ ɔ, hwenu e è bɛ́ nǔ e nɔ víví nú mɛ é ɖé lɛ é ɔ,

A nǎ bló bɔ é ná nyí aluwɛ mɛ ajijimɛ,

Gbè e un ko jì é ɖesu vlɛ́.

Bɔ enyi a tɛ́n kpɔ́n bo wà nǔ e gbɔn vo nú enɛ é ɔ,

A nɔ j’ayǐ bo nɔ hɛn mì gannugánnú bɔ un nɔ cí abwɛ;

Amɔ̌, ee un mɔ bɔ un ɖò xó sú wɛ kpo xomɛfífá kpo é ɔ,

Bɔ é nyɔ́ xomɛ dó ɖɛ ce e dó aluwɛ mɛ é wú,

Un ɖó ná mɔ gbɔdónúmɛ ɖo wǔvɛ́ ce lɛ́ɛ mɛ;

Bɔ sín wuvɛ̌ vivi ɖé mɛ, bo

Na ɖó nukún ɖɔ vivɔnu vivi ɖé na wá.

Luth, compagnon de ma calamité,

De mes soupirs témoin irréprochable,

De mes ennuis contrôleur véritable,

Tu as souvent avec moi lamenté;

Et tant le pleur piteux t’a molesté

Que, commençant quelque son délectable,

Tu le rendais tout soudain lamentable,

Feignant le ton que plein avais chanté.

Et si tu veux efforcer au contraire,

Tu te détends et si me contrains taire:

Mais me voyant tendrement soupirer,

Donnant faveur à ma tant triste plainte,

En mes ennuis me plaire suis contrainte

Et d’un doux mal douce fin espérer.

Iwọ gita, alabaṣepọ ninu ibanujẹ mi,

Ẹlẹri imi ẹdun mi ti ko ni ibawi,

Oluyẹwo tootọ ti awọn ipọnju mi Nigba gbogbo ni Iwo ma n kerora pelu mi,

Ati pe Nigba pupọ ni ẹkun ikaaanu mi n mu ki rẹ Iwọ;

Tó bẹẹ̀ ni bẹẹrẹ, ọpọ ni inu didun si ohun mi,

Iwọ pẹlu idibọ mu ki gbogbo orin ti Iwọ n kọ pẹlu ẹkun rẹrẹ ayọ di orin ibanujẹ,

Ati bi Iwọ ba fẹ sakitiyan lai ṣe idakeji.

Ati bí o bá fẹ ka ni ìfẹ si idakeji,

Iwọ sọ mi di ọlẹ o si tun rọ mi lati dakẹ;

Ṣugbọn nígbà tí o rí mi ń sunkún pẹlẹ,

Yọnda oju rere fun fifi ibanujẹ mi saroye,

Nínú awọn ibanujẹ mi a fi ipa mumi lati gbadun,

Ati ninu egbe to ladun ni mo ti ni opin ireti to ladun.