Under a century-old oak,
A pig had gorged itself on acorns,
Stuffed right up to its throat
It snorted loudly underneath;
Then, having woken from its sleep,
It began to dig around the tree roots.
“That is truly harmful to the tree,”
Said a raven, seeing it digging,
“It will wither until it dies.”
“Let it wither!” said the pig,
“What is that to me!
I see little benefit in it:
Whether it exists or not, it matters little!
As long as there are acorns: I eat them gladly.”
“You ungrateful creature,” the oak exclaimed,
“If you were able to lift your snout,
You would indeed see,
That these acorns are grown by me.”
*
So, the ignorant, as best they can,
Often disparage science and art,
And in their stupidity fail to understand,
That they themselves enjoy their fruits.