The deer which show itself in the water | The deer and the vine | The seek deer

Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695) is a famous french author from Louis XIV period. He is famous for his 124 fables. Three of them talk about deer.

The deer which show itself in the water

The deer which saw itself in the water
In a fountain's crystal
A deer, in olden times, examining itself
Praised the beauty of its horns
But with a dull ache
Suffered its spindle-like legs
Of which it saw the object losing itself in the waters.
Such proportions from my toes to my head !
Said he seeing their shadows with pain :
The top ridges of copses my forehead reaches ;
My feet do not honor me.
While talking in this matter,
A blood-hound startles it ;
In the forest it flees,
Its horns, prejudicial ornaments,
Stopping it every moment,
Underminds the usefulness of
Its feets, on which its days depend.
He then retracts and curses the presents
The Heaven offers it every year.

We value beauty, we despise the useful ;
And the fair often destroys us.
This deer blames its feet which make it nimble ;
It esteems its horns which are a nuisance.

The deer and the vine

A deer, with the help of a very high vine,
Such as we can see in certain climates,
Having gotten under cover and been saved from death,
The huntsmen, this time, believe their dogs at fault;
They call them back. The deer, clear of danger,
Eats its benefactor : extreme ingratitude !
It is heard, one comes back, and it is turned out :
It comes to die in this very place.
"I deserved, said it, this just punishment :
Enjoy, ingrates." It falls at this time.
The pack makes a quarry of it : it was useless
To cry to the huntsmen at the coming of its death.

True picture of those who profane the shelter
Which preserved them.
The deer and the vine

The seek deer

The seek deer
In a country full of deer, one fell sick.
Incontinent many comrades
Run to his pallet to see, assist,
Comfort it importunate multitude
"Eh ! Gentlemen, let me die.
Allow that in common form
La Parque sends me ; and end your tears."
Not one bit, the consoling
This sad duty, all throughout, fulfilled
When it pleased God, went away
It wasn't without having a drink,
Which means without taking a right of pasture.
Everything started grazing the neigbourhood's woods
The substenance of the deer declined drastically
It found nothing to fry
Of a pain he fell into a worst,
And found itself reduced at the end
To fasting and starving to death.

It is costly to one who claims you
Doctor of body and soul !
O time ! O customs ! Even though I cry,
Everybody gets paid.