"Le chêne et le roseau" (The Oak and the Reed) by Jean de La Fontaine

Previous entries in this series of poems that mention oaks have tended to be complimentary of our favorite genus of trees. In this one, however, the oak plays the anti-hero, proud, haughty, and inflexible opposite the pliant reed that bends but does not break. An English translation by Eli Siegel is provided below La Fontaine's original poem, a retelling in French of Aesop's fable "The Oak and the Reed". 

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Le chêne et le roseau

Le Chêne un jour dit au Roseau :
« Vous avez bien sujet d'accuser la Nature ;
Un Roitelet pour vous est un pesant fardeau.
Le moindre vent, qui d'aventure
Fait rider la face de l'eau,
Vous oblige à baisser la tête :
Cependant que mon front, au Caucase pareil,
Non content d'arrêter les rayons du soleil,
Brave l'effort de la tempête.
Tout vous est Aquilon, tout me semble Zéphyr.
Encor si vous naissiez à l'abri du feuillage
Dont je couvre le voisinage,
Vous n'auriez pas tant à souffrir :
Je vous défendrais de l'orage ;
Mais vous naissez le plus souvent
Sur les humides bords des Royaumes du vent.
La nature envers vous me semble bien injuste. »
« Votre compassion, lui répondit l'Arbuste,
Part d'un bon naturel ; mais quittez ce souci.
Les vents me sont moins qu'à vous redoutables.
Je plie, et ne romps pas. Vous avez jusqu'ici
Contre leurs coups épouvantables
Résisté sans courber le dos ;
Mais attendons la fin. » Comme il disait ces mots,
Du bout de l'horizon accourt avec furie
Le plus terrible des enfants
Que le Nord eût portés jusque-là dans ses flancs.
L'Arbre tient bon ; le Roseau plie.
Le vent redouble ses efforts,
Et fait si bien qu'il déracine
Celui de qui la tête au Ciel était voisine
Et dont les pieds touchaient à l'Empire des Morts.

English translation by Eli Siegel

The Oak and the Reed

The oak one day says to the reed:
—You have a good right to blame the nature of things:
A wren for you is a heavy thing to bear.
The slightest wind which is likely
To wrinkle the face of the water
Compels you to bow your head—
While my brow, like Mount Caucasus,
Not satisfied with catching the rays of the sun,
Resists the effort of the tempest.
All for you is north wind, all seems to me soft breeze.
Still, if you had been born in the protection of the foliage
The surrounding of which I cover,
I would defend you from the storm.
But you come to be most often
On the wet edges of the kingdoms of the wind.
Nature seems to me quite unjust to you.
—Your compassion, answered the shrub,
Arises from a kind nature; but leave off this care.
The winds are less fearful to me than to you.
I bend and do not break. You have until now
Against their frightening blows
Stood up without bending your back;
But look out for what can be. —As the reed said these words,
From the edge of the horizon furiously comes to them
The most terrible of the progeny
Which the North has till then contained within it.
The tree holds up well; the reed bends.
The wind doubles its trying;
And does so well that it uproots
That, the head of which was neighbor to the sky,
And the feet of which touched the empire of the dead.

Jean de La Fontaine, (born July 8?, 1621, Château-Thierry, France—died April 13, 1695, Paris), French poet. He made important contacts in Paris, where he was able to attract patrons and spend his most productive years as a writer. He is best known for his Fables (1668–94), which rank among the masterpieces of French literature. Comprising some 240 poems, they include timeless tales about simple countryfolk, heroes of Greek mythology, and the familiar animals of fables. Their chief theme is the everyday moral experience of humankind. His many lesser works include The Loves of Cupid and Psyche (1669), notable for its lucid, elegant prose. He was elected to the Académie Française in 1683.