The first fable of the collection in full, in French with an English translation, what the Cicada promises, and why the ending, with no written moral, has been argued over for three centuries.
Read the fable
The title in italics, the fabulist's name under a fine rule, then the twenty-two lines in a single centered column, and at the foot the line "Fables, Livre I, 1668". Printed on thick matte eco-friendly paper.
Printed and shipped from a studio near you: most orders arrive in 5 business days.
La Cigale, ayant chantéTout l'été,Se trouva fort dépourvueQuand la bise fut venue :Pas un seul petit morceauDe mouche ou de vermisseau.
Elle alla crier famineChez la Fourmi sa voisine,La priant de lui prêterQuelque grain pour subsisterJusqu'à la saison nouvelle.« Je vous paierai, lui dit-elle,Avant l'oût, foi d'animal,Intérêt et principal. »
La Fourmi n'est pas prêteuse ;C'est là son moindre défaut.« Que faisiez-vous au temps chaud ? »Dit-elle à cette emprunteuse.« Nuit et jour à tout venantJe chantais, ne vous déplaise. »« Vous chantiez ? j'en suis fort aise.Eh bien ! dansez maintenant. »
The Cicada, having sung all summer long, found herself most destitute when the north wind came: not one little morsel of fly or worm.
She went crying famine to the Ant, her neighbor, begging her to lend a little grain to live on until the new season. "I will pay you," she said, "before harvest time, on an animal's word: interest and principal."
The Ant is no lender: that is the least of her faults. "What were you doing in the warm days?" she said to the borrower. "Night and day, to all comers, I sang, if you please." "You sang? I am delighted. Well then, dance now."
A plain prose translation, offered as a reading aid. The print carries the French original.
It is the front door of the whole work: the first fable of the first book of the first collection, published in 1668 and dedicated to the Dauphin, the son of Louis XIV. La Fontaine takes up a very old story attributed to Aesop, in which a starving cicada comes to the ants asking for something to live on. He turns it into a little piece of theater: two characters, one dialogue, and a door closing.
One word often stops readers: "avant l'oût". It is the old spelling of août, August, the month of the harvest: the Cicada promises to repay before the crop comes in. The rest of her promise comes straight from the language of contracts, "intérêt et principal", interest and principal, guaranteed on her "foi d'animal", her word as an animal.
None is written, and that is the whole point. The fable stops dead on the Ant's reply, and La Fontaine adds no comment. Should we admire the Ant's foresight, or pity the Cicada, who gave her song to everyone and receives nothing? The text leaves the reader to judge.
Rousseau, in Emile, already worried about it for children: "you think you are giving them the cicada as an example; not at all, it is the ant they will choose." A fable that settles the question is forgotten; this one is argued over, so it is reread.
Twenty-two lines of seven syllables, except one: "Tout l'été", three syllables, as light as the song it sums up. A narrative, two exchanges, and no closing moral.
"Se trouva fort dépourvue quand la bise fut venue."
Found herself most destitute when the north wind came.
Six lines are enough. The bise, the cold winter wind, arrives, and nothing is left. La Fontaine is not writing a page of natural history: he sets up a situation, the artist facing winter.
"Je vous paierai, lui dit-elle, avant l'oût, foi d'animal."
I will pay you, she said, before harvest time, on an animal's word.
The Cicada does not beg, she borrows, with a deadline, interest and a guarantee. Nothing picturesque: everything is a matter of credit and trust between neighbors, and that is what makes the scene so modern.
"Vous chantiez ? j'en suis fort aise. Eh bien ! dansez maintenant."
You sang? I am delighted. Well then, dance now.
"No lender: that is the least of her faults" hints that she has greater ones. Then the trap question, the disarming confession of song, and the reply that snaps shut. Nobody comments.
Because it reads like a scene: a column of short lines, lines of dialogue answering each other, and the last one, at the very bottom, closing the door. In 50x70 cm (20x28 in), the dialogue breathes and each reply finds its own line.
In a child's room, an entryway or a study, it is the text through which generations of French children first met poetry, and one you catch yourself reciting as you walk past.
To read further: Le Corbeau et le Renard, the fable that follows in the collection, and our guide to giving poetry to a teacher.
With Burning Blue, an exclusive studio creation: an electric, burning blue crossed by a red and black pattern. It is the blue of high noon in July, the "temps chaud", the warm days the Ant asks the Cicada to account for, and under which the Cicada sang.
Side by side, the composed page on one side and pure color on the other, the two prints replay the fable: foresight and summer, cream paper and a blue that sings.
In 30x40 or 50x70 cm (12x16 or 20x28 in).
La Cigale et la Fourmi (The Cicada and the Ant) is the first fable of Book I of Jean de La Fontaine's Fables, published in 1668 and dedicated to the Dauphin. It is the text that opens the whole collection.
The fable states no moral: it ends on the Ant's reply, "Eh bien ! dansez maintenant." (Well then, dance now.) It is often read as a lesson in foresight, but the text leaves the reader to judge between the thrifty Ant and the artist Cicada.
L'oût is the old spelling of août, August, the month of the harvest: the Cicada promises to repay her loan before the crop comes in, "interest and principal", as in a contract.
Twenty-two lines of seven syllables, except "Tout l'été", which has only three. A brief narrative sets the scene, then two exchanges lead to the ending, with no closing moral.
In Emile, he feared children would take away the wrong lesson: "you think you are giving them the cicada as an example; not at all, it is the ant they will choose."
Yes: Heure d'été sets the whole fable as an art print, in 30x40, 40x50 or 50x70 cm (12x16, 16x20 or 20x28 in), on thick matte eco-friendly paper.
La Cigale et la Fourmi is the text through which generations of French readers first met poetry, and it has not finished working. If it is one of yours, give it a place where you can see it every day.
See the print
