Oh, little prince! Bit by bit I came to understand the secrets of your only entertainment in the quiet pleasure of looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me:
"I am very fond of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now."
"But we must wait," I said.
"Wait? For what?"
"For the sunset. We must wait until it is time."
At first you seemed to be very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. You said to me:
"I am always thinking that I am at home!"
Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France.
If you could fly to France in one minute, you could go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny planet, my little price, all you need do is move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight falling whenever you like…
"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"
And a little later you added:
"You know—one loves the sunset, when one is so sad…"
"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunset?"
But the little prince made no reply.
On the fifth day—again, as always, it was thanks to the sheep—the secret of the little prince''s life was revealed to me. Abruptly, without anything to lead up to it, and as if the question had been born of long and silent meditation on his problem, he demanded:
"A sheep—if it eats little bushes, does it eat flowers, too?"
"A sheep," I answered, "eats anything it finds in its reach."
"Even flowers that have thorns?"
"Yes, even flowers that have thorns."
"Then the thorns—what use are they?"
I did not know. At that moment I was very busy trying to unscrew a bolt that had got stuck in my engine. I was very much worried, for it was becoming clear to me that the breakdown of my plane was extremely serious. And I had so little drinking-water left that I had to fear for the worst.
"The thorns—what use are they?"
The little prince never let go of a question, once he had asked it. As for me, I was upset over that bolt. And I answered with the first thing that came into my head:
"The thorns are of no use at all. Flowers have thorns just for spite."
"Oh!"
There was a moment of complete silence. Then the little prince flashed back at me, with a kind of resentfulness:
"I don''t believe you! Flowers are weak creature. They are native. They reassure themselves at best they can. They believe that their thorns are terrible weapons…"
I did not answer. At that instant I was saying to myself: "If this bolt still won''t turn, I am going to knock it out with the hammer." Again the little price disturbed my thoughts.
"And you actually believe that the flowers—"
"Oh, no!" I cried. "No, no, no! I don''t believe anything. I answered you the first thing that came into my head. Don''t you see—I am very busy with matters of consequence!"
He stared at me, thunderstruck.
"Matters of consequence!"
He looked at me there, with my hammer in my hand, my fingers black with engine-grease, bending over an object which seemed to him extremely ugly…
"You talk just like the grown-ups!"
That made me a little ashamed. But he went on, relentlessly:
"You mix everything up together…You confuse everything…"
He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.
The little prince was now white with rage.
"The flowers have been growing thorns for millions of years. For millions of years the sheep have been eating them just the same. And is it not a matter of consequence to try to understand why the flowers go to so much trouble to grow thorns which are never of any use to them? Is the warfare between the sheep and the flowers not important? And if I know—I, myself—one flower which is unique in the world, which grows nowhere but on my planet, but which one little sheep can destroy in a single bite some morning, without even noticing what he is doing—Oh! You think that is not important!"
His face turned from white to red as he continued:
"If some one loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars. He can say to himself, ''Somewhere, my flower is there…'' But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars will be darkened…And you think that is not important!"
He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing.
The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death? On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted, I took him in my arms and rocked him. I said to him:
"The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will—"
I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
It is such a secret place, the land of tears.
经典：The Little Prince 小王子
啊！我的小王子……就这样，一点一滴地，我逐渐懂得了你那忧郁的小生命。长久以来，你惟一的乐趣只是欣赏落日。这是我在第四天早晨知道的，当你说出：
“我喜欢看夕阳。我们一起去看太阳下山吧……”
“可以，我们必须要等……”
“等什么？”
“等太阳落山哪！”
起初，你看起来好象很惊讶，然后，又自我解嘲地说：
“我总以为自己还在家里。”
确实，大家都知道，美国的正午时分，正是法国夕阳落下的时候。如果能在一分钟内赶到法国，你就可以看到落日了，可惜法国太远了。但是，在你的小行星上，只要把椅子向后挪几步，就可以随时随地地看到落日的余辉了。
“有一天，我看了43次落日！”
过了一会儿，你又说：
“你知道——当你感到悲伤的时候，就会喜欢看落日……”
“你那时很悲伤吗？就是你看了43次落日的那天？”
小王子没有回答。
第五天，我发现小王子身世的另一个秘密——再次感谢那只羊。好象默默地思索了很长时间以后，得出了什么结果一样，他突然没头没脑地问我：
“羊会吃花吗？就像吃灌木丛一样？”
“它碰到什么吃什么。”
“连有刺的花都吃吗？”
“有刺的花也吃。”
“那刺还有什么用呢？”
我不知道该怎么回答。那时候，我正忙着将一个卡在引擎上的螺丝拆下来。我发现，飞机损坏的情形很严重，而且，更让我担心的是饮用水已经所剩不多了。
“那刺还有什么作用呢？”
小王子一旦提出了问题，就绝不放弃，而我正为了螺丝生气，于是不假思索地回答他
“那些刺儿毫无用处，花儿长刺只能害人！”
“噢！”
沉默了一会儿，他悻悻地说：“我不信你说的话！花儿弱不禁风，花儿天真无邪，她们自顾不暇呢。她们身上长了刺，是为了给自己壮胆，为了保护自己……”
我没有答话，当时我在想：“如果螺丝还不松动的话，我就一锤子敲碎它。”
小王子的话再次打断了我的思路：
“你真的认为花儿……”
“算了吧，算了吧！我什么也不认为！我是随便说说。你没看到我正在忙着要紧的事吗？”
他瞪着我，愣住了。
“要紧的事！？”
他看着我，蹲在那个在他眼中看来丑得要命的东西前面，手握着锤子，手指上沾满了油圬……
“你跟那些大人没什么两样！”
听了这话，我觉得有点惭愧。然而，他又毫不留情地说：
“你什么都分不清，你把什么都混在一起！”
他生气地摇晃着脑袋，金黄色的头发随风飘动着。
小王子气得脸色发白。
“几百万年来，花儿生来就有刺，就像几百万年来羊都在吃花一样。难道了解花的身上为什么会有这些没用的刺不重要的吗？难道羊和花之间的战争不重要？如果我知道一朵花——人世间惟一的花，只长在我的小行星上，别的地方都不存在，在一天早晨，被一只小羊糊里糊涂地毁掉了，难道这样的事也不重要吗？”
他脸色渐渐转红，然后又接着说：
“如果有人钟爱着一朵独一无二，盛开在浩瀚星海里的花，那么，当他抬头仰望繁星时，便会心满意足。他会告诉自己：‘我心爱的花在那里，在那遥远的星星上。’可以，如果羊把花吃掉了，那么，对他来说，所有的星光便会在刹那间暗淡无光！而你却认为这不重要！”
他突然泣不成声，无法再说下去了。
夜幕降临，黑暗翩然而至。我把手中的工具，锤子、螺丝以及饥饿和死亡全抛在脑后，一切对我都已不再重要。在地球上，在我的行星上，有一位需要安慰的小王子。我将他抱在怀里，轻轻地摇着他，对他说：“你心爱的那朵花不会有危险的，我给你的小羊画一个口罩；我给你的花画个护栏……我……”
我不知道该对他说些什么，只觉得自己很笨拙，不懂得怎样抚慰打动他，不知道该如何才能再次回到与他心灵相通的地方。眼泪就是这么奇妙的东西。
