On a bank of a stream, in a wind-swept land
A plant of reed has found his place,
To moistured soil he streached his roots
and to the clouds he raised his had.

Not far from there, as tall as thick,
An oak stood still in stiff hard silt.
His mighty trunk had such a range
That giant could have dwelled in it.

With every little wind that passed
The reed was stooping towards her aim,
And each time that occured, the oak had laughed
Before he told the reed: "It's so easy you to tame - - -

- - - with every little blow you bend,
Cannot stand still in any light zephyr,
So what will happen to you in a storm
When vicious rapid winds appeare?"

The tiny reed was not that humble
To keep his leaves in total silence -
With some help from the breeze they mumbled
That wisdom is the source of his compliance:

"To be so sensitive to every little breeze
And have the might to stoop in its direction
Is not a bad thing, though, I feel the squeeze
In every time my stalk is under pressure."

The great oak could not understand the reed,
His words were odd to what the reason could accept -
He welcomed rapid winds as giant shield
And therefore one clear day he offered him a bet:

"A heavy storm is coming", said the oak,
"A vicious storm that we have never seen.
Let's make a bet and see (the judge will be the hawk)
From both of us - who will survive, and who will lose his
green".

The storm had come, and as you figure out -
The windblows were so strong and wild
That after cracking for a while
The oak's trank to the winds gave up
And fell with great noise on the ground

And on the bank the tiny reed,
Though stooping to the ground with pain,
Succeeded to survive, indeed,
And afterwards with a gesture to the rain
Said: "To win this bet was not a mighty deed -
         sensitivity is flexibility - if you know
         how to bend on every little blow
         you will know the way to stoop
         in every storm that life summons to you.


בעקבות המשל הידוע שמקורו עוד ביוון העתיקה.