The hungry rogue of a Fox had got into an orchard; there were glowed the bunches of grapes. My dear Fox had flown into a passion; while the juicy berries as some precious jewels were shined; only what was a nuisance, they hung high up: eyes see, but teeth do not feel the taste. Having struggled in vain the whole hour, the Fox went away and with disappointment said:
«Never mind! At a sight the grapes are good, but most likely they are sour – there is no ripe berry: at once you will set your teeth on edge».
«Never mind! At a sight the grapes are good, but most likely they are sour – there is no ripe berry: at once you will set your teeth on edge».
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