A beetle loved a certain hare

And wandered with him everywhere:

went to fairs and feasts together,

Talked of the future and the past

On sunny days or overcast,

But,  since their friendships was so pleasant,

Lived for the most part in the present.

One day, alas, an eagle flew

Above them, and before they knew

What cloud had shadowed them, the hare

Hung from her talons in mid-air.

'Please spare my friend,' the beetle cried.

But the great eagle with pride:

'You puny, servile, cloddish bug-

Go off and hide your ugly mug.

How do you dare assume the right

To meddle with my appetite?

This hare's my snack. Have you not heard

lam the great God Zeus's bird?

Nothing can harm me, least of all

A slow, pathetic, droning ball.

Here, keep your friend's head-' And she tore

The hare's head off, and swiftly bore

His bleeding torso to her nest,

Ripped off his tail, and ate the rest.

The beetle stared at her friend's head,

And wished that she herself was dead.

She mixed her tears with his dark blood

And cloaked his face with clods of mud.

She swore that till her dying breath

She would avenge his cruel death,

That she would make the eagle pay

For what she had performed today.

Next day she slowly tracked the trail

From drop of blood to tuft of tail,

Till, high up on a mountain crest,

She found the huge unguarded nest,

And at the hour that yesterday

The bird had plunged towards her prey,

The beetle with her six short legs

Rolled out the mighty eagle's eggs.

She left at once, but she could hear

The eagle's screams of pain and fear

When later she returned and found

The broken eggshells on the ground.

Next day the eagle moved her nest

Ten miles or more towards the west,

But still the beetle's scrutiny

Followed her flight from rock to tree.