Маленький принц / The Little Prince. Антуан де Сент-Экзюпери

      The grown-ups advised me not to draw the boas from the inside or the outside, and study geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. That is why, at the age of six, I stopped drawing. So I did not become a famous painter. I was disheartened by the failure of my Drawing Number One and my Drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to explain things to them all the time.

      So I chose another profession, and became a pilot. I flew over all parts of the world; and it is true that geography was very useful to me. Now I can distinguish China from Arizona.

      I have met many people. I lived among grownups. I saw them intimately, and that did not improve my opinion of them.

      When I met one of them who seemed clever enough to me, I tried to show him my Drawing Number One. I tried to learn, so, if this person had true understanding. But he—or she—always said,

      “That is a hat.”

      Then I did not talk to that person about boas, or forests, or stars. I talked to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and ties.

      2

      So I lived my life alone and had no one to talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago. Something broke in my engine. And I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers. So I began to repair it all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had very little drinking water.

      The first night, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles away from any town. I was more isolated than a sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:

      “Will you please draw me a sheep!”

      “What!”

      “Draw me a sheep!”

      I jumped to my feet and looked carefully all around me. And I saw a most extraordinary small person who stood there. He was examining me with great seriousness.

      Remember, I crashed in the desert a thousand miles from any town. The child did not seem hungry or thirsty or frightened. He was not looking like a child lost in the middle of the desert. When at last I was able to speak, I said to him:

      “But—what are you doing here?”

      And he repeated, very slowly:

      “Will you please draw me a sheep.”

      It was absurd: in danger of death he wanted me to draw a sheep! I could not disobey. I took out of my pocket a sheet of paper and my pen. But then I remembered that I was studying geography, history, arithmetic and grammar, and I told the boy that I did not know how to draw. He answered to me:

      “That doesn’t matter[1]. Draw me a sheep.”

      But I couldn’t. So I drew for him one of my drawings. It was the boa from the outside. And I was astounded to hear:

      “No, no, no! I do not want an elephant inside a boa. A boa is very dangerous, and an elephant is very big. Where I live, everything is very small. What I need is a sheep. Draw me a sheep.”

      So then I made a drawing.

      He looked at it carefully, and then said:

      “No. This sheep is very sickly. Make me another.”

      So I made another drawing.

      My friend smiled gently and indulgently.

      “You see yourself,” he said, “that this is not a sheep. This is a ram. It has horns.”

      So then I drew once more.

      But it was rejected too, just like the others.

      “This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time.”

      By this time my patience was exhausted, because I wanted to repair my engine. So I drew a simple box and explained:

      “This is his box. Your sheep is inside.”

      I was very surprised to see the face of my young judge:

      “That is exactly what I wanted! Do you think that this sheep will need much grass?”

      “Why?”

      “Because where I live everything is very small.”

      “There will be enough grass for him,” I said. “It is a very small sheep.”

      He bent his head over the drawing.

      “Not so small… Look! He went to sleep.”

      And that is how I met the little prince.

      3

      It took me a long time[2] to understand where he came from. The little prince asked me many questions, but did not hear the questions I asked him.

      The first time he saw my airplane, for instance (I shall not draw my airplane; it’s too complicated for me), he asked me:

      “What is that object?”

      “That is not an object. It flies. It is an airplane. It is my airplane.”

      And I was proud to tell him that I could fly.

      He cried out, then:

      “What! You dropped down from the sky?”

      “Yes,” I answered, modestly.

      “Oh! That is funny!”

      And the little prince began to laugh, which irritated me very much. Then he added:

      “So you, too, come from the sky! Which planet is yours?”

      At that moment I understood the mystery of his presence; and I demanded, abruptly:

      “Do you come from another planet?”

      But he did not reply. He tossed his head gently. He was looking at my plane:

      “It is true that on that you can’t travel very far…”

      You can imagine how my curiosity was aroused! I heard about the “other planets.” I tried to learn something more.

      “My little man[3], where do you come from? What is this ‘where I live,’ of which you speak? Where do you want to take your sheep?”

      After a while he answered:

      “It is very good that you gave me the box. The sheep can use it as his house.”

      “That is so. And if you are good I will give you a string, too, so that you can tie him during the day, and a post to tie him to.”

      But the little prince seemed shocked:

      “Tie

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