Aesop tại xưởng đóng tàu

Bản dịch của Babrius: Aesop in a Dockyard

Thảnh thơi ngắm cảnh,
Ánh mắt Jesop dừng lại ở một xưởng đóng tàu sáng đèn.
Ông tình cờ gặp những người thợ đóng tàu ở đó, chẳng có việc gì làm,
Những người đã buông lời chế giễu thô lỗ với nhà hiền triết,
Và thách thức câu trả lời của ông bằng những lời chế nhạo đó.
Những lời của ông nằm trong câu chuyện ngụ ngôn không hề vô nghĩa này.
“Từ thuở ban đầu đã có Hỗn loạn và Nước;
“Nhưng thần Jove muốn Trái đất, cho đến lúc đó vẫn chưa được nhìn thấy,
“Nổi lên trên khối nước:
“Rồi ông khuyên nàng ‘nuốt ba lần’
“‘Nước lũ tràn vào.’ Ngay ngụm đầu tiên nàng nuốt,
“Hãy nhìn những ngọn núi hùng vĩ hiện ra.
“Khi Trái đất nuốt ngụm thứ hai,
“Nhiều đồng cỏ xanh mướt hiện ra trơ trọi.
“Và nếu nàng sớm nuốt ngụm thứ ba,
“Ta nghĩ rằng nghề của ngươi sẽ lập tức khiến những người thợ của nàng bỏ việc.”
Những kẻ hay dùng lời lẽ ngớ ngẩn và nhẹ nhàng để chế giễu,
Luôn tự chuốc lấy tiếng cười.

Bài học

Those who mock the wise often end up looking foolish themselves.

Những kẻ chế nhạo người khôn ngoan thường tự chuốc lấy sự ngu ngốc.

Phiên bản AI

Long ago, in the bustling port of Samos, the air smelled of cedar wood and salt spray. Aesop, a man known throughout Greece for his sharp mind and even sharper tongue, walked along the dusty path toward the great shipyard. He moved with a steady pace, his eyes taking in the grand skeletons of triremes waiting to be finished.

Under the shade of a half-finished hull, a group of shipwrights sat idle. Among them were Myron and Zeno, who preferred gossiping to hammering. Seeing Aesop approach, they nudged each other and began to snicker. They thought themselves very clever and decided to have some fun at the expense of the famous storyteller.

“Look at him,” Myron called out, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “Tell us, oh wise one, why do you wander the docks when you have no ship to build? Is it because your fables don’t pay enough for a single plank of wood?” Zeno let out a loud guffaw, crossing his arms and waiting for a reaction.

Aesop stopped and looked at the men. He didn’t look angry; instead, he looked at them with a hint of pity. “You laugh because you think the world has always been as it is,” Aesop said, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves. “But let me tell you how it all began, and why you should be careful what you wish for.”

“In the beginning,” Aesop began, “there was only Chaos and a vast, endless expanse of Water. There was no land to stand on, no wood to build with, and certainly no shipyard. The world was a swirling blue void until Jove, the king of the gods, decided it was time for a change.”

Jove looked down at the watery world and commanded the Earth to appear. He ordered the Earth to swallow the water to make room for life. Earth, personified as a colossal being, obeyed the king of the gods. Jove watched from the heavens as the first great change began.

The Earth took its first great gulp. As the water rushed into its mighty throat, the level of the sea dropped significantly. Slowly, the wet, jagged peaks of the highest mountains began to poke through the surface of the foam, tasting the air for the very first time.

Jove was pleased, but he wanted more room for the creatures of the world. He commanded the Earth to drink again. The Earth took a second, even deeper gulp. The sound of the rushing water was like a thousand storms, and the sea receded even further from the new peaks.

After the second gulp, the vast, rolling plains and fertile valleys emerged. The world now had forests, meadows, and rivers. There was space for cities and shipyards. The Earth rested, holding the vast oceans in the deep basins that remained.

Aesop turned his gaze back to Zeno, who had stopped laughing. “The Earth has taken two gulps,” Aesop warned, his voice low and serious. “If Jove loses his patience with the likes of you and orders a third gulp, the sea will vanish entirely. Every drop will be gone.”

Myron and Zeno looked out at the harbor, then back at their half-finished ship. Without the sea, their ship would be nothing but a pile of useless wood in a desert. They realized that their livelihood—their very purpose—depended on the very thing Aesop was describing.

The shipwrights stood in stunned silence, no longer finding anything to mock. Aesop simply nodded and continued his walk along the docks. He left them with a final thought: those who spend their time mocking the wise often find that they are the ones who look truly foolish in the end.