Winter claims to be best by keeping men together; Spring disagrees.
Babrius Translation
Hoar Winter strung these words, to jeer at Spring:
“To none doth thine appearance quiet bring,
“One to the groves, to fields another hies
“In haste, or where the woodland valley lies.
“To such the choicest early flowers are treats,
“Lilies, or roses ever-breathing sweets,
“They cull to glad the eye, the wreath to twine:
“These gifts hath Spring. But these are less than mine.
“For I, who ride upon the sea-dash’d prows,
“Disturb the waves, the stormy wind arouse.
“By me the rains and frozen hails are brought;
“And lumps of snow to icy substance wrought:
“So that all tarry, while I last, at home,
“At hearth or board, and do not care to roam;
“But revel in the sweet sound of the lyre,
“Strains of melodious song, and youthful choir.
“These are all Winter’s makeweights, you must know!
“And granted that delight and praises flow
“From men’s lips at thy name; yet while I shed
“Charms o’er men’s homes, my name is cherished
“By those who rightly judge, as sweet of sound.”
For thine, o’er strange goods, claim not higher ground;
For e’en in these some beauty may be found.
How do you think an AI might simplify this fable? Here is one answer, and the illustration above was made from this simplification:
Winter scoffed at Spring and said, “People rush outside when you appear to pick flowers, walk in fields, and dance in woods. Yes, you bring lilies and roses, but what are those to what I offer? I bring crashing waves and roaring winds. I send snow, rain, and hail. So people stay inside when I come. They gather by the fire, they sing, play music, and feast. You may be praised, Spring, but do not think you are better. For even in my cold and storm, there is beauty too—a different kind, but still true.”
Moral
Every season has its own gifts. Do not scorn one beauty for the sake of another.
Perry. #271