The Goose and the Crow
Once upon a time, on the shore of a clear lake where cool waters flowed with a gentle grace, there lived a snow-white goose. This goose, the very image of elegance, glided every morning over the silver-coloured waves and sang songs with joy. But a jet-black crow who dwelt in the old plane tree of the forest watched her secretly and envied her deep inside. While the crow gazed with admiration at those matchless feathers of the goose and at her reputation upon the lake, he felt a deep shame at his own appearance. At last the proud crow decided to make a dangerous and senseless plan so that he might look as noble as the goose. One morning the crow drew near, with a swaggering air, to the goose who was gliding towards the edge of the lake.
"O my white friend, is the secret of your feathers shining so that you bathe often in this icy water?" he asked. The goose, shaking her head in a friendly manner, answered, "This place is my home, but water never changes the colour of feathers." But the ambitious crow did not believe this truth and was heartily convinced that his own feathers too would turn white by washing. The crow at once abandoned his old dunghill and his nest in the forest and settled entirely on the shore of the lake. All day long he threw himself into the cold waters, flapped about and rubbed his feathers as if bathing them with soap. But however much he strove, his jet-black feathers showed not the slightest change of colour.
Moreover, in this wet place to which he was not accustomed, he could find no food and grew weaker day by day from hunger and cold. A few weeks later the crow, exhausted, had come to a state where he could no longer even flap his wings. The loving goose ran to the aid of the trembling crow, pulled him out of the water and tried to warm him with the tip of her beak. The crow understood at last what great ignorance it was to sacrifice his own essence for the sake of an empty dream. Returning to his own nature and his own habitat, the crow never again aspired to be someone else. Those who are seized by passions contrary to their nature are doomed to lose even what they hold and to fall into disappointment. Every bird must sing its own song.