The Bee and the Cuckoo by Tomás de Iriarte

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"Stop, Cuckoo," said the Bee; / "With my labor interferes / That unpleasant voice of thine, / Always ringing in my ears.

There is no bird, in song, / So monotonous as thou.

It is cuckoo all day long, / And nothing but cuckoo!"

"Wearies you, my monotone?"

The Cuckoo straight rejoined; / "So, too, one shape alone, / In thy waxen cells, I find.

If, in the self-same way, / You make a hundred as each one; / If I nothing new can say, / Nothing new by you is done."

This was the Bee's reply: / "A work of usefulness / May lack variety, / And be valued none the less.

But in a work designed / To gratify the taste, / If we no invention find, / Aught else is tedious waste. "

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