The Butterfly And The Ant Poem by Emil Sharafutdinov

From Krylov

A giddy Butterfly has sung
Through all summer in the sun;
Before she has time to think,
Winter rolls up in a wink.
Clear fields are now dead;
No more those days ahead
When she had her meal and bower
Inside every blooming flower.
All is gone: with winter snow
Need and hunger come along;
And the Butterfly no song
Makes of it — who would go on
Singing on a stomach hollow!
Feeling awfully depressed,
To the Ant appeals she next,
«Leave me not, my dear friend,
Only let my spirits mend
And until the future spring,
You, look after my well-being! »
«Sister, you are quite a bummer»,
He says, «Did you work in summer? »
«Please, my dear, have some pity,
In soft grass we every day
Spent in singing songs and play
And my head went quite giddy».
«But to work…»
«I had no chance —
The whole summer I was singing».
«You were singing? that's beginning,
Now you had better dance! »