The Mango Tree and the Lampakanay

One day the mango tree spoke to the lampakanay that grew by the swamp: You have much to complain about, Lampakanay; nature has not been fair to you.  The weight of a bird is a heavy burden for you.  The slightest wandering breeze makes you bow your head.  While my head not only stops the rays of the sun but also braves the wildest tempest.  Everything for you is a storm, while everything to me seems a zephyr.  If only you had been born in the green shade of my leaves that cover everything around me, you would not have so much to suffer.  I would protect you from the storm.  But alas, you were born in the water realms of the kingdom of the winds.  Nature has been unjust to you, it seems to me.

Your pity, no doubt, comes from your goodness of heart, answered the Lampakanay, but don't worry yourself.  The winds are less dangerous to me than they are to you.  I bend but I do not break.  Up to this time, you have resisted their strength without bending.  But this is not the end.

Just as Lampakanay said the words, the most terrible wind that had ever come from the east came sweeping down on them in full fury.  The wind came on with thrice its fury, roaring over the swamp; so wild and strong it blew that it tore the giant mango up by the roots.  And so fell the proud mango whose head was lying down on the ground like dead.