Traducido al inglés por Jaime Hershing
“Always, always,” protested the horse-fly,
“Ever since I was small, I’ve wanted to be important.”
“But, esteemed horse-fly!” whispered, sweetly,
a fly that had been turning circles for a while. “You are already important,”
she sighed, “and those green eyes…”
“No, m’lady, I am only an insect. A pesky,
annoying insect.”
A mosquito that had approached them without
a buzz, said:
“Of course you are important. Look,
esteemed horse-fly, anybody will tell you that you’re every inch a lord. If
not, what does that make me when, no matter how hard I try, I will never even
reach the heel of your sting?”
“Yeah, but it’s the females that sting. I
feed on nectar, nothing more.”
“No matter,” continued the mosquito, “we
would still have to declare you lord of the painful stings.”
“No!” interrupted the fly.
“No? Why?” The mosquito faced up to her.
“I say,” she murmured, “it would be better
to name him Lord of the Flies.”
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