The Crow And The Fox (Translation A Fable By Ivan Krylov) Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

The world has known many a time
That flattery's bad and vicious trick!
Yet, all in vain, since flatterers
Will ever have their way, indeed!
Once Crow got a gift from god,
A chunk of cheese. She soared and perched
A twig of fir to break her fast.
She paused a bit. But scoured past
The Fox - a stroke of bad luck!
The reeking smell made Foxy stop!
She gloats at it -
She's charmed, that's it!
Fox on tiptoes walked towards,
Lo: to and fro the bushy tail,
The Crow firmly held in view,
And said sweet words with bated breath:
You, honey, what a tempting belle!
The neck, oh God, what eyes you have!
As if you stepped from a fairy-tale!
What feathers wondrous, what a beak!
An angel's voice you've got, I bet!
Sing me a song, don't be so shy!
Having such charms about you,
You must be soloist, good odds!
I wish you'd been the queen of birds!
Crow's head went giddy at the words,
The thrill made her breathe hard and pant,
And she crowed out hoary chant
To Fox's inordinate laud.
The falling chunk -
And off with it
So made away the Flattering Sly.