بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَنِ الرَّحِيم
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The Little Prince
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
To Leon Werth
I apologize to the children for dedicating this book to a grown-up. I have a good excuse: this grown-up is the best friend I have in the world. I have another good excuse: this grown-up can understand everything, even children’s books. I have a third good excuse: this grown-up lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs to be comforted. If all these excuses are not enough, I will then dedicate this book to the child who became that grown-up. All grown-ups were first children. (But few of them remember it.) So I correct my dedication:
To Leon Werth
when he was a little boy
CONTENTS
I
When I was six years old, I once saw a magnificent picture in a book about the virgin forest called Stories of Life. It was a boa constrictor that had swallowed a wild beast. Here is a copy of the drawing:
The book explained that boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing, and then they sleep for six months while digesting. I was fascinated by jungle adventures and, with a colored pencil, drew my very first picture. It looked like this:
I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups and asked if my drawing frightened them. They said, “Why would a hat be scary?”
But my drawing wasn’t of a hat. It was a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. To help the grown-ups understand, I drew the inside of the boa constrictor as well. Here’s how it looked:
The grown-ups advised me to stop drawing boa constrictors, whether from the outside or the inside, and to focus on geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. Thus, at the age of six, I abandoned what could have been a magnificent career as a painter. Discouraged by the failure of my first and second drawings, I realized that grown-ups never understood anything on their own, and it was tiring for children to always have to explain.
So I chose another profession. I learned to fly planes and traveled all over the world. Geography, indeed, served me well. I could recognize, at a glance, places like China or Arizona, which was useful if I got lost during the night.
Throughout my life, I encountered many serious people and lived among the grown-ups. Seeing them up close didn’t improve my opinion of them. Whenever I met someone who seemed a bit perceptive, I would show them my first drawing to see if they could truly understand. But they always replied, “It’s a hat.” After that, I stopped talking about boa constrictors, virgin forests, or stars. I talked about bridges, golf, politics, and ties, and the grown-ups were pleased to know such a reasonable person.
Jab main chhay saal ka tha, maine ek behtareen tasveer dekhi thi ek kitab mein jo “Stories of Life” ke naam se thi. Yeh tasveer ek boa constrictor ki thi jo ek jangli jaanwar ko nigal gaya tha. Yahaan us tasveer ka naksha hai:
Kitab ne bataya ke boa constrictors apne shikaar ko bina chewed kiye poora nigal jaate hain aur phir chhe mahine tak soye rehte hain jab tak unka hazma ho jaata hai. Main jungle ki kahaniyon se bohot mutasir tha aur maine ek rangin pencil se apni pehli tasveer banayi. Yeh kuch is tarah ki thi:
Maine apna yeh masterpiece baraon ko dikhaya aur poocha ke kya meri tasveer unhein darati hai. Unka jawab tha, “Ek topi ko daravana kyun hona chahiye?”
Lekin meri tasveer topi nahi thi. Yeh ek boa constrictor thi jo ek haathi ko digest kar raha tha. Baraon ko samjhane ke liye, maine boa constrictor ke andar ka bhi naksha banaya. Yeh kuch is tarah ka tha:
Baraon ne mujhe boa constrictors ke baare mein, chahe bahar se ho ya andar se, tasveer banana band karne ki salah di, aur geography, history, arithmetic, aur grammar par dhyan dene ko kaha. Is tarah, chhay saal ki umar mein, maine ek behtareen painter banne ka khwab chhod diya. Mere pehli aur doosri tasveeron ki naakami se discouraged hokar, maine samjha ke baraon ko kabhi bhi kuch samajh nahi aata, aur bachon ko hamesha samjhaana thakawat bhara hota hai.
Isliye maine ek aur profession chuna. Maine plane udhna seekha aur duniya bhar mein safar kiya. Geography ne meri madad ki. Main aasan se cheezon ko pehchaan sakta tha jaise China ya Arizona, jo raat ko kho jaane par kaam aati thi.
Apni zindagi mein, maine bohot saare serious logon se mila aur baraon ke behtareen nazdeek se dekha. Unhe nazdeek se dekhna meri opinion ko behtar nahi banaya. Jab bhi main kisi aise shakhs se milta jo thoda perceptive lagta, main apni pehli tasveer dikhata taake dekh sakun kya woh sach mein samajh sakta hai. Lekin unhone hamesha jawab diya, “Yeh ek topi hai.” Uske baad, maine boa constrictors, virgin forests, ya stars ke baare mein baat karna band kar diya. Main bridges, golf, politics, aur ties ke baare mein baat karta, aur baraon ko yeh dekh kar khushi hoti ke koi itna reasonable insaan hai.
II
So I lived alone, with no one to talk to, until a breakdown in the Sahara desert six years ago. Something had broken in my engine, and since I had neither a mechanic nor a passenger with me, I had to attempt a difficult repair on my own. It was a matter of life and death. I had hardly any water to drink for a week.
The first night, I fell asleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any inhabited land. I was far more isolated than a castaway on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Then, at dawn, I was awoken by a funny little voice that said:
“Please draw me a sheep!”
I jumped up as if struck by lightning. I rubbed my eyes and looked around, and there was an extraordinary little man gazing at me gravely. This is the best portrait I later managed to make of him:
But my drawing, of course, is much less charming than the real thing. I had been discouraged from pursuing a career in painting at the age of six by grown-ups, and I had learned only to draw closed boas and open boas.
I stared at this apparition in astonishment. Remember, I was a thousand miles from any inhabited region. The little fellow did not seem lost, exhausted, or frightened. He didn’t look like a child stranded in the desert. When I finally managed to speak, I asked:
“What are you doing here?”
He gently repeated his request:
“Please draw me a sheep…”
The mystery was so overwhelming that I felt compelled to comply. Despite the absurdity of the situation—being so far from any inhabited place and in danger of death—I took out a sheet of paper and a pen. But I recalled that I had studied geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar, and I told the little fellow (with some irritation) that I didn’t know how to draw. He replied:
“It doesn’t matter. Draw me a sheep.”
Since I had never drawn a sheep before, I thought of the only two drawings I knew how to make: the boa constrictor from the outside and the boa constrictor from the inside. I was astonished when the little fellow responded:
“No! No! I don’t want an elephant in a boa. A boa is very dangerous, and an elephant is very cumbersome. My space is tight. I need a sheep. Draw me a sheep.”
He examined it carefully and said:
“No! That one is very ill. Draw another one.”
So I drew:
He looked at it attentively and said:
“No! That one is very ill too. Draw another one.”
I drew:
My friend smiled gently and indulgently:
“You see, this isn’t a sheep; it’s a ram. He has horns…”
So I drew:
But he rejected it, like the others:
“This one is too old. I want a long-lived sheep.”
Then, out of patience and eager to start fixing my engine, I scribbled this drawing:
I said:
“That’s the box. The sheep you want is inside it.”
I was greatly surprised to see my young judge’s face light up:
“That’s exactly how I wanted it! Do you think that sheep are to be found in this country?”
“Why?”
“Because at home it’s very small…”
“That should be enough. I gave you a tiny sheep.”
He leaned his head toward the drawing and added:
“Not so small as that. He’s fallen asleep…”
And so, I made the acquaintance of the little prince.
Toh main akela reh gaya, bina kisi se baat kiye, jab tak chhay saal pehle Sahara desert mein meri plane ka engine kharab nahi ho gaya. Kuch toot gaya tha, aur na to mere paas koi mechanic tha aur na hi koi musafir, toh mujhe apni khud ki repair karni padi. Yeh jeene aur marne ka mamla tha. Mujhe ek hafte ke liye paani bhi nahi mila.
Pehli raat, main reth par so gaya, ek hazaar mile door kisi bhi basati ilaqe se. Main raaste mein, jaise ek raft par phansa hua insaan hoon. Subah hone par, ek ajeeb si awaaz ne mujhe jagaya:
“Please mujhe ek sheep draw karo!”
Main bijli ki tarah uchhal gaya. Maine aankhein malin aur aas-paas dekha, aur ek ajeeb chhoti si insaan mujhe bade gham se dekh raha tha. Yeh uski behtareen tasveer hai jo maine baad mein banayi:
Lekin meri tasveer, asli cheez se bohot kamzor hai. Jab main chhay saal ka tha, baraon ne mujhe painting ki career pursue karne se rok diya tha, aur maine sirf band boa aur khuli boa ki tasveer banana seekha tha.
Main is ajeeb nazar ko dekh kar hairaan reh gaya. Yaad rakhna, main ek hazaar mile door kisi bhi basati ilaqe se tha. Yeh chhota insaan na to thake hue lag raha tha, na hi dar se kaamra tha. Jab main baat kar paya, to maine poocha:
“Aap yahaan kya kar rahe hain?”
Usne apni request dheere se dohraayi:
“Please mujhe ek sheep draw karo…”
Yeh tajub se bhar gaya tha, lekin mujhe tasveer banana padi. Halanki is situation ki absurdity ko dekhte hue—door kisi basati ilaqe se aur maut ke khauf mein—maine ek kaghaz aur pen nikala. Lekin mujhe yaad aaya ke maine geography, history, arithmetic, aur grammar padhi thi, aur maine chhote insaan se kaha (thoda gusse se) ke mujhe drawing nahi aati. Usne jawab diya:
“Yeh koi baat nahi. Mujhe ek sheep draw karo.”
Maine socha ke maine kabhi sheep nahi draw ki, aur maine sirf do tasveeron ke sath pesh aaya: boa constrictor bahar se aur boa constrictor andar se. Chhote insaan ka jawab tha:
“Nahi! Nahi! Mujhe elephant wala boa nahi chahiye. Boa bahut khatarnaak hai, aur elephant bahut bara hai. Mere paas jagah kam hai. Mujhe ek sheep chahiye. Mujhe ek sheep draw karo.”
Maine yeh tasveer banayi:
Usne isey dhyan se dekha aur kaha:
“Nahi! Yeh to bimaar hai. Ek aur banaiye.”
Toh maine yeh banayi:
Usne isey bhi gaur se dekha aur kaha:
“Nahi! Yeh bhi bimaar hai. Ek aur banaiye.”
Maine yeh banayi:
Mera dost narm aur samajhdar muskuraya:
“Dekho, yeh sheep nahi hai; yeh ek ram hai. Iske horns hain…”
Toh maine yeh banayi:
Lekin usne isey bhi rad kar diya:
“Yeh to zyada purana hai. Mujhe ek lamb chahiye.”
Phir, patience khatam ho gaya aur engine theek karne ki jaldi thi, maine yeh drawing banayi:
Maine kaha:
“Yeh box hai. Jo sheep aap chahte hain, woh ismein hai.”
Mujhe bohot hairani hui dekh kar ke meri chhoti judge ki chehra chamak gaya:
“Yahi meri zaroorat thi! Kya aapko lagta hai ke sheep yahaan milte hain?”
“Kyun?”
“Kyunki ghar par yeh bohot chhota hai…”
“Yeh kafi hona chahiye. Maine aapko ek chhoti sheep di.”
Usne tasveer ki taraf jhuk kar kaha:
“Woh itni chhoti nahi. Woh so gaya hai…”
Aur is tarah, maine chhote prince se mulaqat ki.
III
It took me a long time to understand where the little prince came from. He asked me many questions and never seemed to hear mine. It was through these chance words that I gradually learned more about him.
When he first saw my plane (I won’t draw it, as it’s too complicated), he asked:
“What is that thing?”
“It’s not a thing. It flies. It’s a plane. This is my plane,” I replied, proud of my flying skills.
He then exclaimed:
“How! You have fallen from heaven!”
“Yes,” I said modestly.
“That’s funny,” he said, laughing charmingly, which annoyed me a bit. I preferred to take my misfortunes seriously. He continued:
“Then you too come from heaven! What planet are you from?”
I was struck by the mystery of his presence and suddenly wondered:
“So you’re from another planet?”
But he didn’t answer. He gazed thoughtfully at my plane and said:
“It’s true that you can’t come very far from it.”
He then fell into a long reverie, and as he took his sheep out of his pocket, he contemplated it with great affection.
I was deeply intrigued by his vague references to “other planets,” so I tried to learn more:
“Where do you come from, my little fellow? Where is ‘home’? Where do you want to take my sheep?”
After a thoughtful pause, he responded:
“What’s good about the box you gave me is that it will serve as a house for him at night.”
“Of course. And if you like, I’ll give you a rope to tie him up during the day, and a stake,” I offered.
The little prince seemed shocked by the idea:
“Attach him? What a funny idea!”
“But if you don’t tie him, he might wander off and get lost.”
My friend laughed again:
“But where would he go?”
“Anywhere. Just straight ahead…” I replied.
The little prince then remarked seriously:
“It doesn’t matter. At home, it’s so small.”
And with a touch of melancholy, he added:
“Straight ahead, you can’t go very far…”
Mujhe chhote prince ke aane ka asal wajah samajhne mein kaafi waqt laga. Usne mujhe bohot saari sawalon ke jawab diye aur kabhi meri sawalon ka jawab nahi diya. In bekaar ke lafzon ke zariye, maine dheere-dheere uske baare mein zyada jana.
Jab pehli baar usne meri plane dekhi (main ise draw nahi karunga, kyunki yeh bohot mushkil hai), to usne poocha:
“Yeh kya cheez hai?”
“Mujhe cheez nahi, yeh udti hai. Yeh ek plane hai. Yeh meri plane hai,” maine jawab diya, apne flying skills par fakhar karte hue.
Usne phir chhakka maar kar kaha:
“Aap to aasman se gir gaye hain!”
“Haan,” maine modestly kaha.
“Yeh funny hai,” usne charmingly hans kar kaha, jo mujhe thoda pareshan kar gaya. Main apni musibat ko seriously lena pasand karta tha. Usne aage kaha:
“Phir aap bhi aasman se aaye hain! Aap kaunsa planet se hain?”
Main uski maujoodgi ki raaz se hairaan ho gaya aur achanak socha:
“Yeh kya aap kisi aur planet se hain?”
Lekin usne jawab nahi diya. Usne meri plane ko ghoor se dekha aur kaha:
“Sach hai ke aap zyada door nahi ja sakte.”
Phir wo ek lambi soch mein chala gaya, aur jab usne apni sheep ko apni jeb se nikaala, to usne usse bade pyar se dekha.
Main uske “aur planets” ke vague references se bohot intrigued tha, toh maine zyada jana chaaha:
“Aap kahan se aaye hain, mere chhote dost? ‘Ghar’ kahan hai? Aap meri sheep ko kahan le jaana chahte hain?”
Sochne ke baad, usne jawab diya:
“Jo box aapne mujhe diya, yeh raat ko uske liye ghar ka kaam karega.”
“Bilkul. Aur agar aap chahen, to main aapko ek rassi aur ek stake bhi de sakta hoon, jisse aap use din ke waqt band kar sakte hain,” maine offer kiya.
Chhote prince ko is idea se shock laga:
“Usko band karna? Kitni funny baat hai!”
“Lekin agar aap usko band nahi karenge, to wo chala jayega aur kho jayega.”
Mere dost ne phir se hans kar kaha:
“Lekin woh kahaan jayega?”
“Kahin bhi. Sidha aage…” maine jawab diya.
Chhote prince ne phir seriously kaha:
“Koi baat nahi. Ghar par yeh itna chhota hai.”
Aur thode se udaasi ke saath, usne add kiya:
“Sidha aage, aap zyada door nahi ja sakte…”
IV
I had learned another important thing: the little prince’s original planet was barely larger than a house. This did not surprise me much. I knew that besides the large planets like Earth, Jupiter, Mars, and Venus, which have names, there are hundreds of smaller ones that are often too tiny to see with a telescope. When an astronomer discovers one of these tiny planets, he names it with a number, such as “asteroid 325.”
I have strong reasons to believe that the little prince’s planet was asteroid B-612. This asteroid was observed only once in 1909 by a Turkish astronomer through a telescope.
He made a grand presentation of his discovery at an International Astronomy Congress, but no one believed him because of his attire. Unfortunately, grown-ups can be like that.
Fortunately for the reputation of asteroid B-612, a Turkish dictator decreed that his people dress in European fashion. The astronomer then made his presentation again in 1920, dressed elegantly. This time, everyone agreed with him.
If I have shared these details about asteroid B-612 and provided its number, it is for the sake of the grown-ups. Grown-ups love numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they don’t ask about the essence of the person. They don’t ask, “What is the sound of his voice? What games does he enjoy? Does he collect butterflies?” Instead, they ask, “How old is he? How many siblings does he have? How much does he weigh? What is his father’s occupation?” They think they understand him based on these details.
If you say to grown-ups, “I saw a beautiful pink house with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof,” they can’t imagine it. You must say, “I saw a house that cost a hundred thousand francs.” Then they exclaim, “How lovely it is!”
So if you tell them, “The proof that the little prince exists is that he was delightful, laughed, and wanted a sheep. When you want a sheep, it’s proof that you exist,” they will shrug it off and consider you childish. But if you say, “The planet where he came from is asteroid B-612,” they will believe you and leave you alone. That’s how they are. We mustn’t blame them. Children should be very forgiving of adults.
But, of course, we who understand life make fun of numbers. I would have preferred to start this story like a fairy tale: “Once upon a time, there was a little prince who lived on a planet hardly larger than himself and who needed a friend…” For those who understand life, it would seem more true.
I don’t like to read my book lightly. It saddens me to recount these memories. It’s been six years since my friend left with his sheep. I try to describe it here so I won’t forget. It’s sad to forget a friend. Not everyone has had a friend. I might end up like the grown-ups, only interested in numbers. That’s why I bought a box of colors and pencils. It’s difficult to start drawing again at my age, especially when my only previous attempts were of closed and open boas at the age of six. I will try to make the portraits as accurate as possible, but I’m not sure I’ll succeed. Some drawings turn out better than others. I make mistakes in size—sometimes the little prince looks too big, sometimes too small. I also hesitate about the color of his clothes. I fumble and try my best. I may get some important details wrong, but that has to be forgiven. My friend never gave explanations. He thought I might be like him. But unfortunately, I do not know how to see a sheep through a crate. I may be a bit like the grown-ups. I must have grown older.
Maine ek aur zaroori baat seekhi: chhote prince ka asal planet itna chhota tha ke ek ghar se bhi chhota. Yeh mujhe zyada ajeeb nahi laga. Mujhe pata tha ke bade planets jaise ke Earth, Jupiter, Mars, aur Venus, jinke naam hote hain, ke ilawa kai chhote planets hote hain jo telescope se bhi nazar nahi aate. Jab ek astronomer in chhote planets ko dhoondhta hai, to usse ek number diya jata hai, jese “asteroid 325.”
Mujhe poori ummed hai ke chhote prince ka planet asteroid B-612 hi tha. Yeh asteroid 1909 mein ek Turkish astronomer ne ek telescope se sirf ek baar dekha tha.
Usne apni discovery ka grand presentation International Astronomy Congress mein diya, lekin koi bhi uski baat nahi maani kyunki uski dress ko le kar logon ka reaction negative tha. Yeh grown-ups ka aisa hi hota hai.
Asteroid B-612 ki reputation ke liye achha hua ke ek Turkish dictator ne apni awaam ko European fashion pehne ka hukum diya. Phir astronomer ne 1920 mein phir se apni presentation di, is baar elegant dress mein. Is baar sabne uski baat maan li.
Agar maine asteroid B-612 ke baare mein yeh details share ki aur uska number diya, to yeh grown-ups ke liye hai. Grown-ups ko numbers bahut pasand hain. Jab aap unhein ek naye dost ke baare mein batate hain, to wo insaan ki essence ke baare mein nahi poochte. Wo nahi poochte, “Uski awaaz kaisi hai? Wo kaunse games pasand karta hai? Kya wo butterflies ikattha karta hai?” Balki wo poochte hain, “Uski umar kitni hai? Uske kitne bhaai-behen hain? Uska weight kitna hai? Uske walid kya karte hain?” Wo in details se samajhte hain.
Agar aap grown-ups ko kahenge, “Maine ek khoobsurat pink house dekha jismein geraniums the aur chhat par pigeons the,” to wo imagine nahi kar sakte. Aapko kehna padega, “Maine ek house dekha jo sau hazaar francs ka tha.” Phir wo kehne lagenge, “Kitna pyara hai!”
To agar aap unhein kahenge, “Chhote prince ke hone ka saboot yeh hai ke wo pyaara tha, hans raha tha, aur ek sheep chahiye thi. Jab aapko sheep chahiye, to yeh saboot hai ke aap exist karte hain,” to wo aapko childish samjhenge. Lekin agar aap kehdenge, “Planet jahan se wo aaya hai asteroid B-612 hai,” to wo aapko maan lenge aur aapko chhod denge. Aise hi hote hain wo. Hume unhe blame nahi karna chahiye. Bachon ko adults ke saath bahut forgiving hona chahiye.
Lekin hum jo zindagi ko samajhte hain, numbers ka mazaak udate hain. Main chahta tha ke yeh kahani fairy tale ki tarah shuru ho: “Ek dafa ka zikar hai, ek chhota prince tha jo ek planet par rehta tha jo usse bhi chhota tha aur jisko ek dost ki zaroorat thi…” Unke liye jo zindagi ko samajhte hain, yeh zyada sach lagta.
Mujhe apni kitaab ko lightly padhna pasand nahi. Mujhe in yaadon ko bayan karna udaas kar deta hai. Mere dost ki departure ko chhe saal ho chuke hain. Main koshish karta hoon ke ise yahan describe karoon taake main bhool na jaaun. Yaar ko bhoolna bahut sad hai. Sabke paas ek dost nahi hota. Main grown-ups ki tarah na ho jaaun, jo sirf numbers mein interested hain. Isliye maine ek box of colors aur pencils khareed liye hain. Mere age mein dobara drawing shuru karna mushkil hai, khaaskar jab meri pehli koshish closed aur open boas ki thi jab main chhota tha. Main koshish karunga ke portraits jitne accurate ho sakein, banau. Shayad kuch drawings better lagti hain aur kuch nahi. Main size mein galtiyan kar raha hoon—kabhi chhote prince bohot bada lagta hai, kabhi bohot chhota. Main uske kapron ke color ke baare mein bhi hesitate karta hoon. Main apni puri koshish kar raha hoon. Shayad kuch important details galat ho jayein, lekin yeh maaf kiya jana chahiye. Mere dost ne kabhi explanations nahi di. Usne socha ke main bhi uski tarah ho sakta hoon. Lekin afsos, main nahi jaanta ke ek crate ke zariye sheep ko kaise dekha jata hai. Shayad main thoda grown-ups ki tarah hoon. Main shayad bada ho gaya hoon.
V
Every day, I learned something new about the planet, about departure, and about the journey. It came gently, through chance reflections. On the third day, I discovered the drama of the baobabs.
Once again, it was thanks to the sheep that I learned this lesson. The little prince suddenly questioned me, as if gripped by a serious doubt:
“It’s true, isn’t it, that sheep eat shrubs?”
“Yes, that’s true.”
“Ah! I’m happy!”
I didn’t understand why it was so important for the sheep to eat shrubs. But then the little prince asked:
“So they also eat baobabs?”
I pointed out that baobab trees are not shrubs but enormous trees, as large as churches. Even if you had a whole herd of elephants, they wouldn’t be able to uproot a single baobab.
The idea of a herd of elephants made the little prince laugh: “We should stack them on top of each other…”
But he then remarked wisely:
“Baobabs, before they grow big, start off small.”
“That’s right! But why do you want your sheep to eat the young baobabs?”
The little prince answered, “Well, come on!” as if it were obvious. It took me a considerable effort to grasp the issue.
Indeed, on the little prince’s planet, as on all planets, there were good plants and weeds. There were seeds of both good and bad plants. But seeds are invisible. They lie dormant in the earth until they decide to wake up. When they do, they initially push out a delicate little shoot towards the sun. If it’s a shoot of a radish or a rosebush, you can let it grow as it pleases.
But if it’s a bad plant, you need to uproot it immediately as soon as you recognize it. On the little prince’s planet, there were particularly dreadful seeds—those of the baobabs. The soil was infested. A baobab, if left too long, becomes impossible to remove. It overwhelms the entire planet, perforating it with its roots. If the planet is too small and the baobabs too numerous, they can make it burst.
“It’s a matter of discipline,” the little prince told me. “When you finish your morning routine, you must tend to your planet carefully. You need to regularly pull out the baobabs as soon as they are distinguishable from the roses they closely resemble when they are very young. It’s a boring task, but it’s easy.”
One day, he advised me to make a drawing to show to the children of my house: “If they travel one day,” he said, “it could be useful to them. It’s inconvenient to postpone this task, but when it comes to baobabs, it’s always catastrophic. I once knew a planet inhabited by a lazy person. He neglected three baobab seedlings…”
Following the little prince’s advice, I drew this planet. I don’t like to take on the role of a moralist, but the danger of baobabs is so little known, and the risks faced by someone on a tiny asteroid are so great, that I am making an exception. I say, “Children! Beware of the baobabs!” I worked hard on this drawing to warn my friends of the danger that I, too, had been unaware of for a long time. The lesson was worth it. You may wonder why there are no other drawings in this book as grand as the baobabs. The answer is simple: I tried, but I couldn’t succeed. When I drew the baobabs, I was driven by a sense of urgency.
Har din, main chhote prince ke planet ke baare mein, uske safar ke baare mein, aur departure ke baare mein kuch naya seekhta tha. Yeh sab dheere-dheere, ittefaqqi soch ke zariye samajh mein aaya. Teesre din, maine baobabs ka drama samjha.
Ek baar phir, yeh sab sheep ki wajah se hua. Chhote prince ne achanak mujhe ek serious shak se pucha:
“Yeh sach hai na, ke sheep bushes khati hain?”
“Haan, yeh sach hai.”
“Ah! Main khush hoon!”
Mujhe samajh nahi aaya ke sheep ka shrubs khana itna zaroori kyun hai. Magar phir chhote prince ne pucha:
“Woh baobabs bhi khaati hain?”
Maine bataya ke baobab trees shrubs nahi hote, balki bohot bade hote hain, church ke size ke barabar. Agar aapke paas poora herd of elephants ho, to bhi ek baobab ko uga nahi sakte.
Elephants ka herd sun kar chhote prince ne hansna shuru kiya: “Hum unhe ek dusre ke upar stack kar lein…”
Magar phir usne samajhdari se kaha:
“Baobabs, bade hone se pehle, chhote hi hote hain.”
“Sahi hai! Magar tum apni sheep ko young baobabs kyun khilana chahte ho?”
Chhote prince ne jawab diya, “Aray, samajh jao!” jaise yeh sab obvious ho. Mujhe is issue ko samajhne mein kafi mehnat lagi.
Asal mein, chhote prince ke planet par, jaise ke sab planets par, achhe plants aur weeds hote hain. Achhe aur bure plants ke seeds hote hain. Magar seeds nazar nahi aate. Yeh zameen mein chhupte hain jab tak yeh jagte nahi. Jab yeh jagte hain, to pehle ek narm chhoti si shoot nikalti hai suraj ki taraf. Agar yeh radish ya rosebush ki shoot hai, to ise bade hone do.
Magar agar yeh ek bure plant ki shoot hai, to ise foran nikalna zaroori hai jaise hi aap ise pehchaan lete hain. Chhote prince ke planet par, baobabs ke seeds bade khatarnaak hote hain. Zameen in seeds se bhari hoti hai. Agar baobabs ko zyada der tak chhoda jaye, to yeh remove karna mushkil ho jata hai. Yeh planet ko puri tarah se dhak lete hain aur iske roots ke saath planet ko phaar dete hain. Agar planet chhota hai aur baobabs zyada hain, to yeh usse phaad sakte hain.
“Yeh discipline ka maamla hai,” chhote prince ne mujhe bataya. “Jab aap apni subah ki routine khatam kar lete hain, to aapko apne planet ka dhyan rakhna zaroori hai. Aapko regularly baobabs ko nikalna chahiye jaise hi wo roses se milte julte hote hain jab wo bahut chhote hote hain. Yeh ek boring kaam hai, lekin aasan hai.”
Ek din, usne mujhe ek drawing banane ki salah di taake main apne ghar ke bachon ko dikhau: “Agar wo ek din safar karein,” usne kaha, “to yeh unke liye faida mand ho sakta hai. Yeh kaam postpone karna nahi chahiye, lekin baobabs ke saath, yeh humesha catastrophic hota hai. Maine ek baar ek planet dekha tha jo ek aalsi insaan ke saath inhabited tha. Usne teen baobab seedlings ko neglect kar diya…”
Chhote prince ke mashware par, maine yeh planet draw kiya. Main moralist ka role nahi lena chahta, lekin baobabs ka khatar itna kam maloom hai, aur ek chhote asteroid par face kiye gaye risks itne bade hote hain, ke main isme ek exception bana raha hoon. Main kehta hoon, “Bachon! Baobabs se bachna!” Maine is drawing par bohot mehnat ki taake apne doston ko is khatar se warn kar saku jo main bhi kaafi der tak nahi jaanta tha. Yeh lesson worth tha. Aap soch sakte hain ke is kitaab mein baobabs ke alawa koi aur drawings itni grand kyun nahi hain. Jawab simple hai: maine koshish ki, lekin main succeed nahi ho saka. Jab maine baobabs draw kiya, to mujhe urgency ka ehsaas tha.
VI
Ah, little prince, I gradually came to understand your gentle melancholy. For a long time, your only distraction was the sweetness of sunsets. I learned this new detail on the fourth morning when you said to me:
“I like sunsets. Let’s watch a sunset…”
“But you have to wait…”
“Wait for what?”
“Wait until the sun goes down.”
You looked very surprised at first, then laughed at yourself. “I always feel at home!”
Indeed, when it is noon in the United States, the sun is setting over France. It would be enough to travel to France in a minute to see the sunset. Unfortunately, France is too far away. But on your tiny planet, you could simply move your chair a few steps and watch the twilight whenever you wished.
“One day I saw the sun set forty-four times!” Then you added, “You know… when you’re very sad, you like sunsets…”
“So, on the day you saw the sun set forty-four times, were you very sad?”
But the little prince did not answer.
Ah, chhote prince, main dheere-dheere aapki narm udasi ko samajhne laga. Lambi muddat tak, aapki sirf ek hi distraction thi: sunset ki mithas. Yeh naya detail mujhe chhoti prince ke chouthi subah ko samajh aaya jab aapne kaha:
“Mujhe sunsets pasand hain. Chalo sunset dekhte hain…”
“Lekin aapko intezar karna padega…”
“Intazaar kis baat ka?”
“Intazaar karna hoga jab tak suraj doob jaye.”
Aap pehle bohot hairaan hue, phir apne aap par hans diye. “Mujhe hamesha ghar jaisa lagta hai!”
Asal mein, jab United States mein dopahar hoti hai, to France mein suraj doob raha hota hai. Agar aap France ek minute mein travel kar lete, to aap sunset dekh sakte. Badqismati se, France bohot door hai. Magar aapke chhote planet par, aap bas apni kursi ko kuch kadam aage le kar bhi sunset dekh sakte the jab bhi aap chahein.
“Ek din maine suraj ko chaarain-tees baar doobte hue dekha!” Phir aapne add kiya, “Aapko pata hai… jab aap bahut udaas hote hain, to aapko sunsets pasand aate hain…”
“Tau jab aapne suraj ko chaarain-tees baar doobte hue dekha, to kya aap bahut udaas the?”
Lekin chhote prince ne jawab nahi diya.
VII
The fifth day, thanks to the sheep, another secret of the little prince’s life was revealed to me. He asked abruptly, as if the question had been brewing in his mind for a long time:
“If a sheep eats shrubs, does it also eat flowers?”
“Yes, a sheep eats whatever it finds.”
“Even flowers with thorns?”
“Yes, even flowers with thorns.”
“Then what are the thorns for?”
I didn’t know. At that moment, I was busy trying to unscrew a stubborn bolt from my engine. My breakdown was becoming quite serious, and the dwindling water supply made me fear the worst.
“Thorns, what are they for?”
The little prince never gave up on a question once he asked it. I was irritated by my bolt and replied offhandedly:
“Thorns are useless. It’s just the flowers being wicked!”
“Oh!”
After a pause, he said with a touch of rancor:
“I don’t believe you! Flowers are weak. They’re naive. They comfort themselves as best they can. They think they’re formidable with their thorns…”
I didn’t reply. At that moment, I thought, “If this bolt still resists, I’ll blow it up with a hammer.” The little prince disturbed my thoughts again:
“And you think that flowers…”
“No! No! I don’t believe anything!” I answered vaguely. “I’m busy with serious things!”
He looked at me, stunned. “Serious things!”
He saw me with my hammer in hand, my fingers black with grease, bent over an object that seemed very ugly to him.
“You talk like grown-ups!”
I felt a little ashamed. But, with a hint of cruelty, he added:
“You mix everything up!”
He was genuinely irritated. He tossed his golden hair in the wind:
“I know a planet where there’s a red-faced man. He’s never breathed in a flower. He’s never looked at a star. He’s never loved anyone. All he does is add numbers. And all day he repeats, ‘I am a serious man! I am a serious man!’ It makes him swell with pride. But he’s not a man; he’s a mushroom!”
“A mushroom?”
“Yes, a fungus!”
The little prince was now pale with anger.
“Millions of years ago, flowers began making thorns. Millions of years ago, sheep started eating flowers. And it’s not important to understand why they make such trouble with thorns that are never used for anything? Isn’t the battle between sheep and flowers important? Isn’t it more serious than the additions of a big red gentleman? And if I know of a flower that is unique in the world, existing nowhere except on my planet, and a little sheep can destroy it just like that, in the morning, without realizing it, isn’t that important?”
He blushed, then continued:
“If someone loves a flower that exists on one in a million stars, that’s enough for him to be happy when he looks at the stars. He thinks, ‘My flower is up there somewhere…’ But if the sheep eats the flower, it’s as if, suddenly, all the stars went out! And that’s not important!”
He could say no more. He suddenly burst into tears. Night had fallen. I set aside my tools. I forgot my hammer, my bolt, my thirst, and my own problems. There was, on a star, a planet—my own planet, the Earth—a little prince to console. I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I said, “The flower you love is not in danger. I will draw a muzzle for your sheep… I will draw armor for your flower… I…” I didn’t know what to say. I felt awkward. I didn’t know how to reach him, how to comfort him… The realm of tears is so mysterious.
Paanchwe din, sheep ki wajah se, chhote prince ki zindagi ka ek aur raaz mere samne aaya. Usne achanak, jaise ke ye sawal dimaag mein bohot dair se tha, poocha:
“Agar ek sheep shrubs khaati hai, to kya wo phool bhi khaati hai?”
“Haan, sheep jo kuch bhi milta hai, wo khaati hai.”
“Bhoray wale phool bhi?”
“Haan, bhoray wale phool bhi.”
“Phir bhoray kis liye hain?”
Mujhe nahi pata. Us waqt, main apne engine se ek zakham bharay bolt ko kholne mein masroof tha. Mera breakdown kafi serious ho raha tha, aur paani ki kami se mujhe buri halat ka darr lag raha tha.
“Bhoray kis liye hain?”
Chhote prince ne ek baar sawal kiya, to wo kabhi bhi chhodta nahi. Main apne bolt se pareshan tha aur be parwai se jawab diya:
“Bhoray bekaar hain. Yeh sirf phoolon ka sharaar hai!”
“Ah!”
Thodi dair ke baad, usne kuch nafrat se kaha:
“Mujhe aapki baat par yakeen nahi! Phool kamzor hain. Wo naiv hain. Wo apni taraqqi se tasalli karte hain. Wo sochte hain ke apne bhoron se wo formidable hain…”
Main ne jawab nahi diya. Us waqt, main soch raha tha, “Agar yeh bolt abhi bhi nahi khulti, to main ise ek hammer se uda doonga.” Chhote prince ne phir se meri soch ko disturb kiya:
“Aur aap sochte hain ke phool…”
“Nahi! Nahi! Main kuch nahi maanta!” Main ne vague jawab diya. “Main serious cheezon mein masroof hoon!”
Usne mujhe hairaan hokar dekha. “Serious cheezein!”
Usne mujhe hammer ke saath dekha, meri ungliyan grease se black thi, aur main ek aise object ke upar jhuk raha tha jo usay bohot ugly lag raha tha.
“Aap grown-ups ki tarah baat karte hain!”
Mujhe thoda sharam aayi. Magar, thodi shiddat se, usne add kiya:
“Aap sab kuch mix karte hain!”
Wo sach mein gusse mein tha. Usne apne sona jaisa baalon ko hawa mein uchhala:
“Main ek planet janta hoon jahan ek laal chehra wala aadmi hai. Usne kabhi bhi phool nahi dekha. Usne kabhi bhi taare nahi dekhe. Usne kabhi kisi se mohabbat nahi ki. Sirf wo numbers add karta hai. Aur din bhar kehta hai, ‘Main ek serious aadmi hoon! Main ek serious aadmi hoon!’ Yeh usay ghamand se bhar deta hai. Magar wo aadmi nahi hai; wo ek mushroom hai!”
“Mushroom?”
“Haan, ek fungus!”
Chhote prince ab anger se peela ho gaya tha.
“Lakhon saalon pehle, phoolon ne bhoray banana shuru kiye. Lakhon saalon pehle, sheep ne phool khane shuru kiye. Aur yeh samajhna zaroori nahi hai ke kyun wo bhoray itna pareshaan karte hain jo kabhi bhi use nahi hote? Kya sheep aur phoolon ke beech yeh ladaayi important nahi? Kya yeh zyada serious nahi hai jitna ek laal chehra wala gentleman ke additions? Aur agar main ek phool ke baare mein janta hoon jo duniya ke ek million taareyon mein sirf mere planet par hota hai, aur ek chhoti sheep ise ek subah khatam kar deti hai, bina samjhe, to kya yeh important nahi hai?”
Wo laal ho gaya, phir bola:
“Agar koi ek phool ko pyaar karta hai jo ek million stars mein sirf ek hi hai, to wo khushi mehsoos karta hai jab wo taare dekhte hain. Wo sochta hai, ‘Mera phool wahan kahin hai…’ Lekin agar sheep us phool ko kha leti hai, to jaise sabhi taare achanak chale gaye! Aur yeh important nahi hai!”
Wo zyada nahi keh sakta tha. Achank wo ro pada. Raat ho gayi thi. Main ne apni tools ko side par rakha. Main ne apni hammer, bolt, aur apni pareshaniyan bhool gayi. Ek star par, ek planet—mera apna planet, Earth—ek chhota prince tha jisay tasalli deni thi. Main ne use apni godh mein uthaya. Main ne use jhoolaya. Main ne kaha, “Jo phool aapko pyaar hai wo khatar mein nahi hai. Main aapki sheep ke liye ek muzzle draw karunga… Main aapke phool ke liye ek armor draw karunga… Main…” Main nahi janta tha kya kehna hai. Main awkward mehsoos kar raha tha. Main nahi janta tha kaise us tak pohanchoon, kaise use tasalli doon… Aansuon ki duniya itni mysterious hai.
VIII
I soon learned more about this flower. On the little prince’s planet, there had always been very simple flowers with just one row of petals. They appeared one morning and faded away by evening, without causing any disturbance. But this one was different. It had sprouted from a seed brought from somewhere else, and the little prince had carefully watched this twig that was unlike the others. It could have been a new kind of baobab, but the shrub soon ceased to grow and began preparing to bloom.
The little prince, expecting a miraculous transformation, was thrilled to see the flower emerge. She took her time preparing, choosing her colors carefully and dressing slowly. She didn’t want to appear like the poppies, which were simple and unadorned. She wanted to make her entrance in full splendor. Yes, she was very vain! Her elaborate preparation lasted for days.
Then, one morning, just as the sun was rising, she revealed herself.
And she, who had worked so meticulously, said while yawning:
“Ah! I’m just waking up… I beg your pardon… I’m still disheveled…”
The little prince was unable to contain his admiration:
“How beautiful you are!”
“Isn’t it?” the flower replied softly. “I was born at the same time as the sun…”
The little prince realized she wasn’t particularly modest, but she was so endearing!
“It’s time, I think, for breakfast,” she would soon add. “Would you be kind enough to think of me?”
The little prince, somewhat flustered, found a watering-can of fresh water and served the flower. Thus, she quickly began to trouble him with her somewhat dubious vanity. One day, for instance, she boasted about her four thorns:
“They can fend off tigers with their claws!”
“There are no tigers on my planet,” the little prince pointed out. “And besides, tigers don’t eat grass.”
“I am not a grass,” the flower replied gently.
“Excuse me…”
“I have no fear of tigers, but I do hate drafts. Could you please provide me with a screen?”
“A horror of drafts… it’s not good for a plant,” noted the little prince. “This flower is very complicated…”
“In the evening, you must put me under a globe. It’s very cold at home. It’s poorly situated. Where I come from…”
But she stopped herself, having come from a seed and knowing nothing about other worlds. Embarrassed by her naive lie, she coughed a few times to cover her mistake:
“This screen?”
“I was going to get it, but you were talking to me!” the little prince said.
Then she intensified her cough, making him feel guilty.
Thus, despite his love and goodwill, the little prince soon began to doubt her. He took her trivial words seriously and became very unhappy.
“I shouldn’t have listened to her,” he confessed to me one day. “You should never listen to flowers. You should look at them and smell them. My flower filled my planet with fragrance, but I couldn’t enjoy it. Her talk of claws, which had annoyed me, should have been a warning…”
He confided again:
“I didn’t understand anything! I should have judged her by her actions, not her words. She confused and enlightened me. I should never have fled! I should have recognized her tenderness behind her petty tricks. Flowers are so contradictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.”
Main jaldi se is phool ke baare mein aur zyada jaan gaya. Chhote prince ke planet par, hamesha se bahut simple phool hote the, sirf ek row ke petals ke saath. Ye ek subah aate the aur shaam tak chale jaate the, bina kisi disturbance ke. Lekin ye ek alag tha. Ye ek seed se uga tha jo kahin aur se aaya tha, aur chhote prince ne is twig ko bade dhyan se dekha jo dusre phoolon se mukhtalif tha. Yeh ek naya baobab ho sakta tha, lekin shrub jaldi se badhna band kar diya aur phool khilane ki tayyari karne laga.
Chhote prince ne ek magical transformation ki umeed rakhi, aur phool ka nikalna dekh kar woh khush tha. Usne apne rang aur dress ko dhyan se tay kiya. Usne poppies jese simple aur bekaar ke phoolon ki tarah nazar aane se bachna tha. Usne apne grand entrance ki tayyari mein dino laga diye. Haan, wo bahut vainglory thi! Uski elaborate tayyari dino tak chali.
Phir, ek subah, jab suraj uth raha tha, usne apne aap ko reveal kiya. Aur jo itna mehnat se tayyar hui thi, usne yawning karte hue kaha:
“Ah! Main bas uth rahi hoon… Maaf kijiye… Main abhi bhi disheveled hoon…”
Chhote prince apne admiration ko control nahi kar paya:
“Kitni khoobsurat ho aap!”
“Yeh nahi?” phool ne softly reply kiya. “Main suraj ke sath hi paida hui hoon…”
Chhote prince ne mehsoos kiya ke wo zyada modest nahi thi, lekin wo itni charming thi!
“Ab breakfast ka waqt hai,” usne jald hi add kiya. “Kya aap mere baare mein soch sakte hain?”
Chhote prince, thoda confused hokar, ek watering-can se fresh paani nikal kar phool ko serve kiya. Is tarah, phool ne jaldi se apni thodi si vainglory se usse pareshan karna shuru kar diya. Ek din, usne apne chaar thorns ki baraayi ki:
“Yeh tigers ko claws se maar sakte hain!”
“Mere planet par tigers nahi hain,” chhote prince ne point out kiya. “Aur, tigers grass nahi khate.”
“Main grass nahi hoon,” phool ne gentle reply diya.
“Maaf kijiye…”
“Mujhe tigers se dar nahi lagta, lekin mujhe drafts se nafrat hai. Kya aap mujhe ek screen provide kar sakte hain?”
“Drafts ka dar… yeh ek plant ke liye acha nahi hai,” chhote prince ne noted kiya. “Yeh phool bahut complicated hai…”
“Shaam ko, mujhe ek globe ke neeche rakhna. Yahan bohot thanda hai. Yeh galat jagah par hai. Jahan se main aayi hoon…”
Lekin usne apni baat rokh li, kyunki wo ek seed se aayi thi aur dusre worlds ke baare mein kuch nahi janti thi. Apni naiv lie se sharminda hokar, usne apne galti ko cover karne ke liye thodi baar khansi ki:
“Yeh screen?”
“Main ise lene ja raha tha, lekin aap mujhe baat kar rahe the!” chhote prince ne kaha.
Phir usne apni khansi ko tez kar diya, jisse chhote prince ko guilty feel hua.
Is tarah, apni mohabbat aur goodwill ke bawajood, chhote prince ne jaldi se us par shak karna shuru kar diya. Usne uski trivial baaton ko seriously liya aur bahut unhappy ho gaya.
“Mujhe uski baaton ko sunna nahi chahiye tha,” usne ek din mujhe confess kiya. “Aapko kabhi bhi phoolon ko nahi sunna chahiye. Aapko unhe dekhna aur unka rang mehsoos karna chahiye. Mera phool mere planet ko fragrance se bhar raha tha, lekin main ise enjoy nahi kar paya. Uski claws ki baat, jo mujhe pareshan karti thi, ek warning honi chahiye thi…”
Usne phir se confide kiya:
“Mujhe kuch samajh nahi aaya! Mujhe uske actions se judge karna chahiye tha, uski baaton se nahi. Uski baatein mujhe confuse aur enlighten karti thi. Main nahi bhagna chahiye tha! Mujhe uski petty tricks ke peeche ki tenderness ko samajhna chahiye tha. Phool itne contradictory hote hain! Lekin main bahut young tha, pyaar karne ka tarika nahi janta tha.”
IX
I believe that he took advantage of a migration of wild birds for his escape. On the morning of the departure, he put his planet in order. He carefully roamed his active volcanoes. He had two active volcanoes, which were very convenient for warming up his morning breakfast. He also possessed an extinct volcano. But, as he said, “You never know!” He therefore also roamed the extinct volcano. If they are well swept, volcanoes burn gently and regularly, without eruptions. Volcanic eruptions are like chimney fires. Obviously, on our land, we are much too small to swallow our volcanoes. That’s why they cause us so much trouble.
The Little Prince also removed, with a touch of melancholy, the last shoots of baobabs. He thought he would never have to return. Yet, on that morning, all these familiar tasks seemed extremely sweet to him. When he watered the flower for the last time and prepared to shelter it under its globe, he felt a strong desire to weep.
“Farewell,” he said to the flower. But she did not answer. “Farewell,” he repeated.
The flower coughed. But it was not because of a cold. “I was a fool,” she said at last. “I beg your pardon. Try to be happy.”
He was surprised by the lack of reproach. He stood there, confused, with the globe in the air, not understanding this quiet tenderness.
“Yes, I love you,” said the flower. “You did not know, due to my fault. It doesn’t matter. But you were as foolish as I was. Try to be happy… Leave this globe. I no longer need it.”
“But the wind…”
“I’m not so cold as that. The cool air of the night will do me good. I’m a flower.”
“But the beasts…”
“I must endure two or three caterpillars if I want to know butterflies. They say it’s so beautiful. Otherwise, who will visit me? You will be far away. As for the large beasts, I fear nothing. I have my claws.”
And she naively showed her four thorns. Then she added:
“Don’t linger like that, it’s annoying. You’ve decided to leave. Go away.” She did not want him to see her crying. It was such a proud flower…
Mujhe lagta hai ke chhote prince ne apni chhutti ke liye wild birds ki migration ka faida uthaya. Nikalne ke subah, usne apne planet ko sahi se tayar kiya. Usne apne active volcanoes ko dhyan se dekha. Uske paas do active volcanoes the, jo subah ke nashta ko garam karne ke liye bohot convenient the. Uske paas ek extinct volcano bhi tha. Lekin, jaisa ke usne kaha, “Aap kabhi nahi jaante!” Isliye usne extinct volcano ko bhi dekha. Agar volcanoes ko ache se sweep kiya jaye, to ye dheere dheere aur regular tarike se jalte hain, bina eruptions ke. Volcanic eruptions chimney fires ki tarah hote hain. Hamare zameen par, hum bahut chhote hote hain apne volcanoes ko swallow karne ke liye. Isliye ye hamesha humein pareshani dete hain.
Chhote prince ne bhi ek gham ke sath, baobabs ke last shoots ko hata diya. Usne socha ke wo kabhi wapas nahi aayega. Lekin, us subah, ye familiar tasks usse bohot pyare lag rahe the. Jab usne apne phool ko aakhri baar paani diya aur use apne globe ke neeche shelter karne ki tayyari ki, to usne kaafi roone ki tamanna mehsoos ki.
“Alvida,” usne phool se kaha. Lekin usne jawab nahi diya. “Alvida,” usne dohraaya.
Phool ne khansi ki. Lekin ye khansi thand ki wajah se nahi thi. “Main ek bevakoof thi,” usne aakhir kar kaha. “Mujhe maaf karna. Koshish karo khush rehne ki.”
Chhote prince ko is bina ilzam ke jawab se hairani hui. Wo confused tha, globe ko hawa mein pakde hue, is khamoshi se bharpoor pyaar ko samajh nahi pa raha tha.
“Haan, main tumse pyar karti hoon,” phool ne kaha. “Tum nahi jante the, meri galti ke wajah se. Koi baat nahi. Lekin tum bhi meri tarah bevakoof the. Koshish karo khush rehne ki… Yeh globe chhod do. Mujhe ab iski zaroorat nahi.”
“Lekin hawa…”
“Main itni thandi nahi hoon. Raat ki thandi hawa mujhe acha lagegi. Main ek phool hoon.”
“Lekin beasts…”
“Mujhe do ya teen caterpillars bardasht karni padegi agar main butterflies ko dekhna chahti hoon. Kehte hain ye itna khubsurat hota hai. Warna, mujhe kaun milne aayega? Tum door chale jaoge. Aur bade beasts se mujhe koi darr nahi. Mere paas mere claws hain.”
Aur usne naivly apne chaar thorns dikhaye. Phir usne add kiya:
“Ruko mat, yeh pareshani kar raha hai. Tumne leave karne ka faisla kiya hai. Chalo jao.” Usne nahi chaaha ke chhote prince usse rote hue dekhe. Ye itna proud flower tha…
X
He was in the region of the asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, and 330. He began by visiting them to search for an occupation and to learn.
The first was inhabited by a king. The king sat, dressed in purple and ermine, on a very simple yet majestic throne.
“Ah! Here is a subject!” cried the king when he saw the little prince. The little prince wondered, “How can he recognize me since he has never seen me before?”
He did not know that for kings, the world is greatly simplified. All men are subjects.
“Come closer, I’ll see you better,” said the king, who was very proud to finally be a king.
The little prince looked for a place to sit, but the planet was cluttered with the magnificent ermine mantle. So he stood, and as he was tired, he yawned.
“It is contrary to etiquette to yawn in the presence of a king,” said the monarch. “I forbid it.”
“I can’t help it,” replied the little prince, quite confused. “I’ve traveled a long way and I haven’t slept…”
“Then,” said the king, “I command you to yawn. I haven’t seen anyone yawn for years. Yawns are curiosities for me. Come on! Yawn some more. It’s an order.”
“That intimidates me… I can’t…” said the little prince, blushing.
“Um! Hum!” replied the king. “Then I… I order you to yawn and sometimes to…” He stammered a little and seemed vexed.
The king was primarily concerned with having his authority respected. He did not tolerate disobedience. He was an absolute monarch. But as he was very good, he gave reasonable orders.
“If I commanded,” said he, “if I ordered a general to turn into a sea-bird, and if the general did not obey, it would not be the general’s fault. It would be my fault.”
“May I sit?” inquired the little prince, timidly.
“I order you to sit down,” replied the king, who majestically readjusted a piece of his ermine cloak.
But the little prince was astonished. The planet was tiny. On what could the king reign?
“Sire,” said he, “I beg your pardon for asking questions.”
“I order you to question me,” said the king.
“Sire, on what do you reign?”
“Above all,” replied the king, with great simplicity.
“Above all?”
The king, with a discreet gesture, pointed to his planet, the other planets, and the stars. “On all that?” said the little prince.
“On all that,” replied the king.
For not only was he an absolute monarch, but he was a universal monarch.
“And the stars obey you?”
“Of course,” said the king. “They obey immediately. I do not tolerate indiscipline.”
Such power amazed the little prince. If he had had such power, he could have witnessed not forty-four, but seventy-two, or even a hundred, or even two hundred sunsets in a single day. To pull his chair! And as he felt a little sad because of the memory of his small abandoned planet, he boldly requested a favor from the king:
“I would like to see a sunset… Do me a favor… Order the sun to set…”
“If I ordered a general to fly from one flower to another like a butterfly, or write a tragedy, or turn into a sea-bird, and if the general did not execute the order, which of us would be in the wrong?”
“It would be you,” said the little prince firmly.
“Exactly. We must demand of each one what each one can give,” replied the king. “Authority rests first on reason. If you command your people to throw themselves into the sea, they will revolt. I have the right to demand obedience because my orders are reasonable.”
“Then my sunset?” reminded the little prince, who never forgot a question once he had asked it.
“Hem! Hem!” replied the king, who first consulted a large calendar. “Hem! Hem! It will be, towards… it will be this evening towards seven forty! And you will see how well I am obeyed.”
The little prince yawned. He regretted his failed sunset. And then he was already a bit bored:
“I have nothing more to do here,” he said to the king. “I’ll go again!”
“Do not go,” replied the king, who was so proud of having a subject. “Do not go, I make you a minister!”
“Minister of what?”
“Of… of Justice!”
“But there is no one to judge!”
“We do not know,” said the king. “I have not yet traveled around my kingdom. I am very old, I have no means of transportation, and walking tires me.”
“Oh! But I have already seen,” said the little prince, who bent down to glance at the other side of the planet. “There’s no one there either…”
“You will judge yourself, then,” replied the king. “That is the most difficult. It is much harder to judge oneself than to judge others. If you manage to judge yourself well, it means you are a true wise man.”
“I,” said the little prince, “can judge myself anywhere. I do not need to live here.”
“Hem! Hem!” said the king. “I believe that on my planet there is somewhere an old rat. I hear it at night. You can judge that old rat. You will condemn him to death from time to time. So his life will depend on your fairness. But you will pardon him every time to save him. There is only one.”
“I,” replied the little prince, “do not like to condemn to death, and I believe I am going.”
“No,” said the king.
But the little prince, having completed his preparations, would not trouble the old monarch:
“If Your Majesty wished to be obeyed promptly, you could give me a reasonable order. You could order me, for example, to leave in one minute. It seems to me that the conditions are favorable…”
The king said nothing. The little prince hesitated at first, then, with a sigh, took his leave.
“I make you my ambassador,” the king hastened to call after him. He had an air of authority.
Great people are very strange, the little prince said to himself during his journey.
Chhote prince asteroids 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, aur 330 ke ilaqay mein tha. Usne unhein dekhna shuru kiya taake woh kisi kaam ke laayak cheez seekh sakein.
Pehla planet ek king se inhabited tha. King purpule aur ermine ke kapron mein, ek bohot simple lekin majestic throne par baithe hue the.
“Ah! Ek subject aagaya!” king ne dekha to cheekh uthe. Chhote prince ne socha, “Woh mujhe kaise pehchaan sakte hain jab unhone mujhe pehle kabhi nahi dekha?”
Usne nahi jaane ke liye ke kings ke liye duniya bohot simplified hoti hai. Har aadmi ek subject hota hai.
“Qareeb aao, mein tumhein behtar dekh sakunga,” king ne kaha, jo apne title par bohot fakhar mehsoos kar rahe the.
Chhote prince ne baithne ki jagah talashi di, lekin planet kaafi cluttered tha. Isliye wo khada raha, aur kyunki wo thak gaya tha, usne cheekh mara.
“King ke saamne cheekhna etiquette ke khilaf hai,” monarch ne kaha. “Main isse mana karta hoon.”
“Main nahi rok sakta,” chhote prince ne jawab diya, jo kaafi confused tha. “Main lamba safar kar ke aaya hoon aur maine nahi soya…”
“To,” king ne kaha, “Main tumhein cheekhne ka hukam deta hoon. Maine saalon se kisi ko cheekhte hue nahi dekha. Cheekhna mere liye curiosity hai. Chalo! Aur cheekh do. Ye ek order hai.”
“Ye mujhe intimidate karta hai… Main nahi kar sakta…” chhote prince ne kaha, laal hota hua.
“Um! Hum!” king ne kaha. “To phir main… main tumhein cheekhne ka hukam deta hoon aur kabhi kabhi…”
King apne authority ko respect dilane ki chinta mein tha. Usne nafrat se disobedience ko nahi saha. Wo ek absolute monarch tha. Lekin kyunki wo bohot achha tha, usne reasonable orders diye.
“Agar main hukam doon,” king ne kaha, “Agar main ek general ko hukam doon ke wo ek phool se doosre phool tak ek butterfly ki tarah udne, ya ek tragedy likhne, ya ek sea-bird banne, aur agar general nahi maane, to kiski galti hogi?”
“Ye aapki hogi,” chhote prince ne mazbooti se kaha.
“Bilkul. Humein har ek se wahi mangna chahiye jo woh de sakta hai,” king ne jawab diya. “Authority sabse pehle reason par hoti hai. Agar tum apne logon ko sea mein dhakelne ka hukam doge, to woh revolt karenge. Main obedience ki demand karta hoon kyunki meri orders reasonable hain.”
“Phir mera sunset?” chhote prince ne yaad dilaya, jo kabhi bhi ek sawal nahi bhoolta.
“Hem! Hem!” king ne jawab diya, jo pehle ek bade calendar ko dekha. “Haan! Hem! Ye shaam ko saat chaar saat par hoga! Aur tum dekho ke main kitna achha obey hota hoon.”
Chhote prince ne cheekh mara. Usne apne failed sunset ko regret kiya. Aur phir wo thoda bore bhi ho gaya:
“Mujhe yahan kuch aur nahi karna,” usne king se kaha. “Main chalunga!”
“Mat jao,” king ne kaha, jo apne subject par fakhar mehsoos kar raha tha. “Mat jao, main tumhe minister banaata hoon!”
“Minister of what?”
“Of… of Justice!”
“Lekin yahan koi judge karne wala nahi hai!”
“Humein nahi pata,” king ne kaha. “Main apne kingdom ko abhi tak nahi ghooma. Main bahut purana hoon, mere paas transportation ka koi zariya nahi hai, aur chalna thakawat de deta hai.”
“Oh! Lekin main ne dekha hai,” chhote prince ne kaha, jo planet ke doosre side ko dekhne ke liye jhuk gaya. “Wahan bhi koi nahi hai…”
“Tum apne aap ko judge karoge,” king ne jawab diya. “Ye sabse mushkil hai. Apne aap ko judge karna doosron ko judge karne se zyada mushkil hai. Agar tum apne aap ko acchi tarah se judge kar lete ho, to iska matlab tum ek sachche wise man ho.”
“Main,” chhote prince ne kaha, “kahin bhi apne aap ko judge kar sakta hoon. Mujhe yahan rehne ki zaroorat nahi.”
“Hem! Hem!” king ne kaha. “Mujhe lagta hai ke mere planet par ek purani chuha hai. Main raat ko iski awaaz sunta hoon. Tum us purani chuhe ko judge kar sakte ho. Tum use qatal ki saza de sakte ho kabhi kabhi. Is tarah uski zindagi tumhare fairness par depend karegi. Lekin tum har baar use maaf karoge taake uski zindagi bacha rahe. Wohi ek hai.”
“Main,” chhote prince ne jawab diya, “qatal dena nahi pasand karta, aur mujhe lagta hai ke main chalunga.”
“Nahi,” king ne kaha.
Lekin chhote prince, jo apni preparation complete kar chuka tha, purane monarch ko pareshan nahi karna chahta tha:
“Agar Aapki Shahenshahi ko turant obey karna hai, to aap mujhe ek reasonable order de sakte hain. Aap mujhe, for example, ek minute mein chalne ka hukam de sakte hain. Mujhe lagta hai ke conditions favorable hain…”
King ne kuch nahi kaha. Chhote prince ne pehle hesitate kiya, phir ek sigh ke sath, apna leave le liya.
“Main tumhe apna ambassador banaata hoon,” king ne jaldi se bulaya. Uske pass authority ka ek air tha.
Chhote prince ne apne safar ke dauran apne aap se kaha, “Bade log kitne ajeeb hote hain.”
XI
The second planet was inhabited by a conceited man:
“Ah! Ah! Here is the visit of an admirer!” exclaimed the conceited man from a distance as soon as he saw the little prince.
For the conceited, other men are admirers.
“Good morning,” said the little prince. “You have a funny hat.”
“It is to salute,” replied the conceited man. “It is to greet when I am acclaimed. Unfortunately, it never happens here.”
“Ah yes?” said the little prince, who did not understand.
“Strike your hands one against the other,” advised the conceited man.
The little prince struck his hands together. The conceited man modestly tipped his hat.
“This is more amusing than the visit to the king,” said the little prince to himself. And he began to strike his hands together again. The conceited man began to salute, raising his hat.
After five minutes of this exercise, the little prince grew tired of the monotony of the game. “And so that the hat falls,” he asked, “what should be done?”
But the conceited man did not hear him. Vain people never hear anything but praise. “Do you really admire me a lot?” he asked the little prince.
“What does it mean to admire?”
“To admire means to recognize that I am the most beautiful, the best dressed, the richest, and the most intelligent man on the planet.”
“But you’re alone on your planet!”
“Make me this pleasure. Admire me anyway!”
“I admire you,” said the little prince, shrugging his shoulders a little, “but how can that interest you?”
And the little prince departed.
“The grown-ups are decidedly bizarre,” he told himself simply during his journey.
Doosra planet ek khud pasand insaan se inhabited tha:
“Ah! Ah! Dekho, ek admirer aagaya!” khud pasand insaan ne door se hi chhote prince ko dekha to cheekh uthe.
Khud pasand log ke liye, doosre log admirers hote hain.
“Good morning,” chhote prince ne kaha. “Aapka topi ajeeb hai.”
“Ye salute karne ke liye hai,” khud pasand insaan ne jawab diya. “Ye tab pehno jab main acclaim kiya jata hoon. Afsoos ke yahan kabhi nahi hota.”
“Ah haan?” chhote prince ne kaha, jo samajh nahi paaya.
“Apne haath ko ek dusre se milao,” khud pasand insaan ne salah di.
Chhote prince ne haath milaye. Khud pasand insaan ne apni topi ko modestly tip kiya.
“Ye king ke visit se zyada interesting hai,” chhote prince ne apne aap se kaha. Aur wo phir se haath milane lage. Khud pasand insaan ne salute karna shuru kar diya, apni topi ko uthate hue.
Paanch minute ke is exercise ke baad, chhote prince ko is monotonous game se thakawat mehsoos hui. “Aur agar topi gir jaye,” usne poocha, “to kya karna chahiye?”
Lekin khud pasand insaan ne nahi suna. Khud pasand log sirf tareef hi sunte hain. “Kya tum mujhe zyada admire karte ho?” khud pasand insaan ne chhote prince se poocha.
“Admire karna kya hota hai?”
“Admire karne ka matlab hai ki tum mujhe sabse khoobsurat, sabse achha dressed, sabse ameer, aur sabse intelligent insaan samjho apne planet par.”
“Lekin tum apne planet par akelay ho!”
“Yeh mera ek favor hai. Phir bhi mujhe admire karo!”
“Main tumhe admire karta hoon,” chhote prince ne thoda sa shoulder shrugg karte hue kaha, “lekin isse tumhe kya farq padta hai?”
Aur chhote prince chale gaye.
“Bade log waqai mein ajeeb hote hain,” usne apne safar ke dauran apne aap se kaha.
XII
Agla planet ek sharabi se inhabited tha. Ye visit bohot hi chhoti thi, lekin isne chhote prince ko bohot zyada udasi mein daal diya:
“Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?” chhote prince ne sharabi se poocha, jo khamoshi se khali bottles aur bharay huay bottles ke collection ke samne baithe the.
“Main peeta hoon,” sharabi ne ghamgeen andaz mein jawab diya.
“Kyu peete ho?” chhote prince ne poocha.
“Bhoolne ke liye,” sharabi ne jawab diya.
“Bhoolna kya?” chhote prince ne poocha, jo pehle se hi uski madad karne ki koshish kar raha tha.
“Bhoolna ke mujhe sharam aati hai,” sharabi ne apne sir ko neecha karte hue confess kiya.
“Sharam kis cheez ki?” chhote prince ne poocha, jo uski madad karna chah raha tha.
“Sharam is baat ki ke main peeta hoon!” sharabi ne jawab diya, phir se khamoshi mein chala gaya.
Aur chhote prince ne, pareshan hokar, wahan se chale gaye.
“Bade log waqai mein bohot ajeeb hote hain,” usne apne safar ke dauran apne aap se kaha.
XIII
The fourth planet was that of the businessman. This man was so busy that he did not even raise his head at the arrival of the little prince.
“Good morning,” said the latter. “Your cigarette is extinguished.”
“Three and two are five. Five and seven twelve. Twelve and three… Hello. Fifteen and ninety-two. Twenty-two and six-eight. No time to turn it back on. Twenty-six and five thirty-one. Phew! So it’s five hundred one million six hundred twenty-two thousand seven hundred and thirty-one.”
“Five hundred million of what?”
“Hey? You’re still here? Five hundred million… I do not know… I have so much work! I am serious, I do not amuse myself with nonsense! Two and five…”
“Five hundred million of what?” repeated the little prince, who, in his life, had never renounced a question once he had asked it.
The businessman raised his head:
“For the past fifty-four years I have lived on this planet, I have only been disturbed three times. The first time it was twenty-two years ago, by a cockroach that had fallen, God knows where. It spread a terrible noise, and I made four errors in an addition. The second time, eleven years ago, was a crisis of rheumatism. I lack exercise. I do not have time to stroll. I’m serious. The third time… here it is! So I said five hundred million…”
“Millions of what?”
The businessman understood that there was no hope of peace:
“Millions of these little things that one sees sometimes in the sky.”
“Flies?”
“But no, little things that shine.”
“Bees?”
“But no. Little golden things that make the idlers laugh. But I am serious! I do not have time to daydream.”
“Ah! Stars?”
“That’s right. Stars.”
“And what do you do with five hundred million stars?”
“Five hundred and one million six hundred and twenty-two thousand seven hundred and thirty-one. I am serious, I am precise.”
“And what do you do with these stars?”
“What do I do with it?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing. I own them.”
“You own the stars?”
“Yes.”
“But I’ve already seen a king who—”
“Kings do not possess. They ‘reign’ over. It is very different.”
“And what is the use of possessing the stars?”
“It’s good for me to be rich.”
“And what does it cost you to be rich?”
“To buy other stars, if someone finds them.”
“That one,” said the little prince to himself, “he reasoned a little like my drunkard.” However, he asked further questions:
“How can one possess the stars?”
“Who are they?” replied the grumpy businessman.
“I do not know. To no one.”
“Then they belong to me, for I thought of it first.”
“That’s enough?”
“Of course. When you find a diamond that belongs to no one, it is yours. When you find an island that belongs to no one, it is yours. When you have an idea first, you patent it: it is yours. And I possess the stars, since no one before me thought of possessing them.”
“That is true,” said the little prince. “And what do you do with them?”
“I deal with them. I count them and recount them,” said the businessman. “It’s difficult. But I’m a serious man!”
The little prince was not satisfied yet.
“If I have a scarf, I can put it around my neck and take it away. I, if I possess a flower, can pluck my flower and carry it away. But you cannot pick the stars!”
“No, but I can put them in a bank.”
“What does that mean?”
“That means I write on a little paper the number of my stars. And then I lock this paper in a drawer.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s enough!”
“It’s amusing,” thought the little prince. “It’s pretty poetic. But it is not very serious.”
The little prince had very different ideas about what is serious compared to the ideas of the grown-ups.
“I,” he said again, “have a flower that I water every day. I have three volcanoes that I shake every week. For I also sweep away the extinct one. We never know. It is useful to my volcanoes, and it is useful to my flower, that I possess them. But you are not useful to the stars…”
The businessman opened his mouth but found no answer, and the little prince left.
“The grown-ups are definitely quite extraordinary,” he said simply to himself during the journey.
Choutha planet ek businessman ka tha. Ye aadmi itna masroof tha ke chhote prince ke aane par usne apna sir bhi nahi uthaya.
“Good morning,” chhote prince ne kaha. “Aapka cigarette bujh gaya hai.”
“Teen aur do paanch. Paanch aur saat baarah. Baarah aur teen… Hello. Pandrah aur navbe… Baees aur chhe-aath. Ab mujhe ise jalane ka waqt nahi. Chhabees aur paanch iktees. Phew! Toh ye paanch sau ek million chhe sau bees hazaar saat sau iktees.”
“Paanch sau million kis cheez ke?” chhote prince ne poocha.
“Huh? Tum ab bhi yahan ho? Paanch sau million… Mujhe nahi pata… Itna kaam hai! Main serious hoon, bekaar ki baaton mein nahi padta! Do aur paanch…”
“Paanch sau million kis cheez ke?” chhote prince ne doobara poocha, kyunki usne kabhi bhi apne sawaalon ka jawab nahi chhoda tha.
Businessman ne apna sir uthaya:
“Pichhle pachaas chaar saal se main is planet par hoon, mujhe sirf teen baar disturb kiya gaya hai. Pehli baar bees saal pehle, ek cockroach ne, jo pata nahi kahaan se aaya tha, ek khatarnaak awaaz ki aur maine ek addition mein chaar ghaltiyan ki. Dusri baar, gawaara saath saal pehle, rheumatism ka daura pada. Main exercise nahi karta. Mujhe chalne ka waqt nahi. Main serious hoon. Teesri baar… yahi hai! Toh maine paanch sau million…”
“Millions kis cheez ke?”
Businessman ne samjha ke chain nahi milne waala:
“Millions un chhoti cheezon ke jo kabhi kabhi aasman mein chamakti hain.”
“Flies?”
“Nahi, chhoti cheezon jo chamakti hain.”
“Bees?”
“Nahi. Chhoti sunehri cheezein jo idlers ko hansati hain. Magar main serious hoon! Main din bhar sapne nahi dekhta.”
“Ah! Taare?”
“Haan, taare.”
“Aur paanch sau million taare se tum kya karte ho?”
“Paanch sau ek million chhe sau bees hazaar saat sau iktees. Main serious hoon, main precise hoon.”
“Aur tum in taaron se kya karte ho?”
“Kya karta hoon in se?”
“Haan.”
“Kuch nahi. Main inka malik hoon.”
“Tum taaron ke malik ho?”
“Haan.”
“Lekin maine dekha ek king—”
“Kings malik nahi hote. Woh ‘raaj’ karte hain. Yeh bilkul alag hai.”
“Aur taaron ko malik hone ka faida kya hai?”
“Yeh mere liye achha hai ke main ameer hoon.”
“Ameer hone ka kya cost hai?”
“Doosre taare khareedne ke liye, agar koi mil jaye.”
“Woh,” chhote prince ne apne aap se kaha, “woh kuch zyada hi sharabi ki tarah sochta hai.” Lekin usne aur sawaal kiye:
“Taaron ko kaise malik bante ho?”
“Kya matlab?” grumpy businessman ne kaha.
“Main nahi jaanta. Kisi ka nahi.”
“Phir woh mere hain, kyunki maine pehle socha.”
“Yahi hai?”
“Haan. Jab tum ek diamond dhoondte ho jo kisi ka nahi hai, woh tumhara hota hai. Jab tum ek island dhoondte ho jo kisi ka nahi hai, woh tumhara hota hai. Jab tum ek idea pehle sochte ho, tum patent karte ho: woh tumhara hota hai. Aur main taare malik hoon, kyunki kisi ne pehle inhe malik banane ka nahi socha.”
“Yeh sach hai,” chhote prince ne kaha. “Aur tum inka kya karte ho?”
“Main inka hisaab rakhta hoon. Main inhe ginata hoon aur doobara ginata hoon,” businessman ne kaha. “Yeh mushkil hai. Lekin main serious aadmi hoon!”
Chhote prince abhi bhi mutmain nahi tha.
“Agar mere paas ek scarf hai, main use apne gale mein daal sakta hoon aur le jaa sakta hoon. Agar mere paas ek phool hai, main us phool ko tod sakta hoon aur le jaa sakta hoon. Lekin tum taare nahi tod sakte!”
“Nahi, lekin main inhe bank mein rakh sakta hoon.”
“Yeh kya matlab hai?”
“Yeh matlab hai ke main ek chhoti paper par apne taare likhta hoon. Aur phir main us paper ko ek drawer mein lock kar deta hoon.”
“Yahi hai?”
“Yahi kaafi hai!”
“Yeh amusing hai,” chhote prince ne socha. “Yeh thoda poetic hai. Lekin yeh zyada serious nahi hai.”
Chhote prince ka serious hone ka nazariya grown-ups se bilkul alag tha.
“Main,” usne phir se kaha, “ek phool rakhta hoon jise main roz paani deta hoon. Mere paas teen volcano hain jo main har hafte hilaata hoon. Ek extinct volcano bhi, kyunki hum nahi jaante. Yeh mere volcanoes ke liye aur mere phool ke liye faydemand hai, ke main inhe rakhta hoon. Lekin tum taaron ke liye kuch faydemand nahi ho…”
Businessman apni zubaan se kuch nahi keh paaya aur chhote prince ne wahan se chhod diya.
“Bade log waqai mein bohot ajeeb hote hain,” usne apne safar ke dauran apne aap se kaha.
XIV
The fifth planet was very curious. It was the smallest of them all. There was just enough room to house a lamppost and a street lamp lighter. The little prince could not explain how a street lamp and a lamp-lighter could be used somewhere in the sky, on a planet without a house or a population. However, he said to himself:
“Maybe this man is absurd. However, he is less absurd than the king, the vain, the businessman, and the drinker. At least his work makes sense. When he lights his lamppost, it is as if he were creating another star or a flower. When he turns off his lamppost, it puts the flower or the star to sleep. It is a very pretty occupation. This is really useful since it is beautiful.”
When he approached the planet, he greeted the lighter respectfully:
“Hello. Why did you just turn off your street lamp?”
“That is the order,” replied the lighter. “Hello. What is the time?”
“It is to extinguish my lamppost. Good evening.” And he rekindled it.
“But why have you just turned it on?”
“That is the order,” replied the lighter.
“I do not understand,” said the little prince.
“There is nothing to understand,” said the lighter. “The order is the order. Hello.” And he put out his street lamp.
Then he wiped his forehead with a red-checked handkerchief.
“I am doing a terrible trade here. It was reasonable in the past. I switched off in the morning and switched on at night. I had the rest of the day to rest, and the rest of the night to sleep…”
“And since that time the order has changed?”
“The order has not changed,” said the lighter. “That is the tragedy! The planet from year to year has turned faster and faster, and the order has not changed!”
“So?”
“So now that it does one turn a minute, I have no more rest. I turn on and off once a minute!”
“Now that’s funny! The days at your place last a minute!”
“It’s not funny at all,” said the lighter. “It’s been a month since we’ve been talking together.”
“A month?”
“Yes. Thirty minutes. Thirty days!” Good evening. “And he reignited his lamppost.
The little prince looked at him and loved this lighter who was so faithful to the instructions. He remembered the sunsets that he himself once went looking for, drawing his chair. He wanted to help his friend:
“You know… I know a way to rest when you want…”
“I always want,” said the lighter.
For one can be both faithful and lazy. The little prince continued:
“Your planet is so small that you go around it in three strides. You only have to walk slowly to stay in the sun. When you want to rest you will walk… and the day will last as long as you want.”
“It does not help me much,” said the lighter. “What I like about life is sleeping.”
“It’s not lucky,” said the little prince.
“No luck,” said the lighter. “Hello.” And he put out his street lamp.
“That one,” said the little prince, “as he pursued his journey further, would be despised by all the others: by the king, by the vain, by the drinker, by the businessman.” However,
it is the only one that does not seem ridiculous to me. It is perhaps because he cares about nothing but himself.”
He sighed with regret and said to himself again:
“This is the only one I could have made my friend. But his planet is really too small. There is no room for two…”
What the little prince did not dare to admit was that he regretted this blessed planet because, above all, of the thousand four hundred and forty sunsets in twenty-four hours!
Paanchwa planet bohot hi ajeeb tha. Ye sabse chhota planet tha. Yahan sirf ek lamp-post aur ek street lamp lighter ke liye jagah thi. Chhote prince ko samajh nahi aata tha ke ek street lamp aur lamp-lighter ko bina ghar aur bina logon wale planet par kaise istemal kiya jaa sakta hai. Lekin usne apne aap se kaha:
“Shayad ye aadmi ajeeb hai. Lekin ye king, vanity wale, businessman, aur drinker se kam ajeeb hai. Kam se kam iska kaam samajh aata hai. Jab ye apne lamp-post ko jalata hai, to jaise wo ek naya sitara ya phool bana raha ho. Aur jab wo apne lamp-post ko bujhaata hai, to wo sitara ya phool ko soya hua bana deta hai. Ye ek bohot hi khoobsurat kaam hai. Ye sach mein useful hai kyunki ye beautiful hai.”
Jab wo planet ke nazdeek gaya, to usne lighter ko izzat se salaam kiya:
“Hello. Tumne apna street lamp kyun bujha diya?”
“Ye order hai,” lighter ne jawab diya. “Hello. Kya waqt hai?”
“Ye lamppost ko bujhane ka waqt hai. Good evening.” Aur usne ise dobara jalaya.
“Lekin tumne ye kyun jalaya?”
“Ye order hai,” lighter ne kaha.
“Main samajh nahi pa raha,” chhote prince ne kaha.
“Kuch samajhne ki baat nahi,” lighter ne kaha. “Order hai toh order hai. Hello.” Aur usne apna street lamp bujha diya.
Phir usne apne mathay ko ek laal checked handkerchief se poncha.
“Yahan mera kaam bohot hi bure halat mein hai. Pehle toh ye reasonable tha. Main subah bujhata tha aur raat ko jalata tha. Mujhe din bhar aaraam milta tha, aur raat ko sona milta tha…”
“Aur ab order badal gaya hai?”
“Order nahi badla,” lighter ne kaha. “Ye tragedy hai! Planet har saal tez ghoom raha hai, aur order wahi hai!”
“Phir?”
“Ab kyunki planet ek minute mein ek ghoomta hai, mujhe aaraam nahi milta. Main har minute mein ek baar jalata aur bujhata hoon!”
“Yeh funny hai! Tumhare yahan din ek minute ka hota hai!”
“Yeh bilkul bhi funny nahi hai,” lighter ne kaha. “Ek mahine se hum baat kar rahe hain.”
“Ek mahina?”
“Haan. Tees minute. Tees din!” Good evening. Aur usne apna lamppost dobara jalaya.
Chhote prince ne uski taraf dekha aur is faithful lighter ko pasand kiya jo instructions ka palan kar raha tha. Usne apne sunsets yaad kiye jo usne pehle dhoondhe the, apni kursi ke saath. Usne apne dost ki madad karne ka socha:
“Tumhe pata hai… Main ek tarika jaanta hoon aaraam karne ka jab tum chaho…”
“Main hamesha aaraam karna chahta hoon,” lighter ne kaha.
Ek insan dono faithful aur lazy ho sakta hai. Chhote prince ne aage kaha:
“Tumhara planet itna chhota hai ke tum teen kadmon mein ghoom jaate ho. Tumhe dheere dheere chalna hoga taake tum suraj ke saath hi rahe sako. Jab tum aaraam karna chaho, tum dheere dheere chaloge… aur din jitna lamba chaho, waise rahega.”
“Yeh mujhe zyada madad nahi karta,” lighter ne kaha. “Mujhe zindagi mein neend pasand hai.”
“Yeh accha nahi hai,” chhote prince ne kaha.
“Luck nahi hai,” lighter ne kaha. “Hello.” Aur usne apna street lamp bujha diya.
“Yeh,” chhote prince ne kaha, “jab usne apni journey ko aage badhaya, to yeh sabhi dusre logon se, king, vanity wale, drinker, businessman se, nafrat karega.” Lekin,
“Yeh hi ek hai jo mujhe ridiculous nahi lagta. Shayad isliye ke yeh sirf apne aap ki fikr karta hai.”
Usne afsos ke sath sigh kiya aur apne aap se kaha:
“Yahi ek hai jise main apna dost bana sakta tha. Lekin is planet par waqai mein do logon ke liye jagah nahi hai…”
Chhote prince ne jo admit karne ki himmat nahi ki thi, wo yeh tha ke usne is blessed planet ko isliye afsos kiya kyunki, sabse zyada, ek din mein ek hazaar chaar sau chaalees sunsets ki wajah se!
XV
The sixth planet was a planet ten times larger. It was inhabited by an old gentleman who wrote enormous books.
“Here! Here is an explorer!” cried he when he perceived the little prince.
The little prince sat down on the table and breathed a little. He had traveled so much already!
“Where do you come from?” said the old gentleman.
“What is this big book?” said the little prince. “What are you doing here?”
“I am a geographer,” said the old gentleman.
“What is a geographer?”
“He is a scientist who knows where the seas, rivers, cities, mountains, and deserts are.”
“That is very interesting,” said the little prince. “It’s finally a real job!” He cast a glance around at the geographer’s planet. He had never seen a planet so majestic.
“It is very beautiful, your planet. Are there oceans?”
“I cannot know,” said the geographer.
“Ah!” The little prince was disappointed. “And mountains?”
“I cannot know,” said the geographer.
“And cities and rivers and deserts?”
“I cannot know them either,” said the geographer.
“But you are a geographer!”
“That’s right,” said the geographer, “but I am not an explorer. I absolutely lack explorers. It is not the geographer who will count cities, rivers, mountains, seas, oceans, and deserts. The geographer is too important to stroll. He does not leave his office. But he receives the explorers there. He interrogates them and takes note of their memories. If the memories of one of them seem interesting to him, the geographer investigates the morality of the explorer.”
“Why this?”
“Because an explorer who lies would cause catastrophes in the books of geography. And also an explorer who drinks too much.”
“Why this?” said the little prince.
“Because drunks see double. Then the geographer would note two mountains where there is only one.”
“I know somebody,” said the little prince, “who would be a bad explorer.”
“It’s possible. So when the morality of the explorer seems good, an inquiry is made into his discovery.”
“We will see?”
“No. It’s too complicated. But the explorer is required to provide evidence. If, for example, the discovery of a large mountain is required, it is required to bring large stones.”
The geographer was suddenly moved.
“But you come from a distance! You’re an explorer! You’re going to describe your planet!”
And the geographer, having opened his register, cut his pencil. We first note in pencil the narratives of the explorers. It is expected, to note in ink, that the explorer has provided evidence.
“So?” inquired the geographer.
“Oh! At home,” said the little prince, “it’s not very interesting. It’s very small. I have three volcanoes. Two active volcanoes and an extinct volcano. But we never know.”
“You never know,” said the geographer.
“I also have a flower.”
“We do not notice flowers,” said the geographer.
“Why is that? This is the nicest!”
“Because flowers are ephemeral.”
“What does ‘ephemeral’ mean?”
“Geographies,” said the geographer, “are the most serious books of all books. They never go out of style. It is very rare that a mountain changes its place. It is very rare that an ocean empties its water. We write eternal things.”
“But the extinct volcanoes can wake up,” interrupted the little prince. “What does ‘ephemeral’ mean?”
“Whether volcanoes are extinguished or awakened is the same for us,” said the geographer. “What matters to us is the mountain. It does not change.”
“But what does ‘ephemeral’ mean?” repeated the little prince, who had never given up a question once he had asked it.
“It means ‘who is threatened with near disappearance.’”
“My flower is threatened with disappearance soon?”
“Of course.”
“My flower is ephemeral,” thought the little prince, “and she has only four thorns to defend herself against the world! And I left her alone with me!”
This was his first movement of regret. But he resumed his courage: “What do you advise me to visit?” he asked.
“Planet Earth,” replied the geographer. “It has a good reputation…”
And the little prince went away, thinking of his flower.
Chhatha planet das martaba bara tha. Is par ek purana aadmi rehta tha jo bade bade kitaabein likhta tha.
“Yahan! Yahan ek explorer hai!” usne chhote prince ko dekha aur cheekh maara.
Chhote prince ne table par baith gaya aur thodi der ke liye saans liya. Usne itna safar kiya tha!
“Tum kahaan se aaye ho?” purane aadmi ne poocha.
“Yeh bara kitab kya hai?” chhote prince ne kaha. “Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?”
“Main ek geographer hoon,” purane aadmi ne jawab diya.
“Geographer kya hota hai?”
“Ek scientist jo jaanta hai ke samundar, dariya, shahrein, pahaad aur registan kahaan hain.”
“Yeh bohot hi dilchasp hai,” chhote prince ne kaha. “Yeh finally ek asli kaam hai!” Usne geographer ke planet ka nazar daala. Usne itna shandar planet kabhi nahi dekha tha.
“Tumhara planet bohot hi khoobsurat hai. Kya yahan samundar hain?”
“Main nahi jaanta,” geographer ne kaha.
“Ah!” Chhote prince ko niraasha hui. “Aur pahaad?”
“Main nahi jaanta,” geographer ne kaha.
“Aur shahrein, dariya, aur registan?”
“Unhein bhi main nahi jaanta,” geographer ne kaha.
“Lekin tum to geographer ho!”
“Haan,” geographer ne kaha, “lekin main explorer nahi hoon. Mujhe bilkul bhi explorers ki zaroorat hai. Geographer woh nahi hota jo shahrein, dariya, pahaad, samundar, aur registan gin sakta hai. Geographer itna important hota hai ke woh bahar nahi jaata. Lekin woh wahan explorers ko milta hai. Woh unki yaadon ko note karta hai. Agar unki yaadon mein se koi interesting lagti hai, to geographer explorer ki morality ka pata lagata hai.”
“Yeh kyun?”
“Kyunki agar explorer jhooth bolta hai to geography ki kitaabein kharab hoti hain. Aur ek explorer jo zyada peeta hai.”
“Yeh kyun?” chhote prince ne poocha.
“Kyunki drunk log double dekhte hain. Phir geographer do pahaad note karega jahan sirf ek hai.”
“Main ek aise aadmi ko jaanta hoon,” chhote prince ne kaha, “jo ek achha explorer nahi hoga.”
“Shayad. Toh jab explorer ki morality achhi lagti hai, to uski discovery ka bhi jaiza liya jata hai.”
“Kya hum dekhenge?”
“Nahi. Yeh bohot complicated hai. Lekin explorer ko evidence dena parta hai. Agar, misaal ke taur par, ek bara pahaad discover karna hai, toh bade pathar lana parta hai.”
Geographer achanak se jazbaati ho gaya.
“Lekin tum door se aaye ho! Tum ek explorer ho! Tum apne planet ko describe karoge!”
Aur geographer ne apni register kholi aur apne pencil ko kaat diya. Pehle explorers ki narratives pencil se note ki jaati hain. Ink se note karne ke liye, explorer ko evidence provide karna parta hai.
“Toh?” geographer ne poocha.
“Oh! Mere ghar par,” chhote prince ne kaha, “yeh itna interesting nahi hai. Yeh bohot chhota hai. Mere paas teen volcanoes hain. Do active volcanoes aur ek extinct volcano. Lekin kabhi nahi pata.”
“Tumhe kabhi nahi pata,” geographer ne kaha.
“Mere paas ek phool bhi hai.”
“Hum flowers ko note nahi karte,” geographer ne kaha.
“Yeh kyun? Yeh sabse achha hai!”
“Kyunki flowers ephemeral hote hain.”
“Ephemeral ka kya matlab hai?”
“Geographies,” geographer ne kaha, “sabse serious books hoti hain. Ye kabhi bhi out of style nahi hoti. Bahut hi rare hai ke ek pahaad apni jagah badalta hai. Bahut hi rare hai ke ek samundar apna paani khatam kar de. Hum hamesha eternal cheezen likhte hain.”
“Lekin extinct volcanoes bhi jag sakte hain,” chhote prince ne kaha. “Ephemeral ka matlab kya hai?”
“Chahe volcanoes extinct ho ya jag jayein, hamare liye woh same hai,” geographer ne kaha. “Hamare liye sirf mountain matter karta hai. Woh change nahi hota.”
“Lekin ‘ephemeral’ ka matlab kya hai?” chhote prince ne dobarah poocha, kyunki usne kabhi bhi ek sawal chhoda nahi tha.
“Yeh matlab hai ‘jo jaldi khatam hone ke khatrey mein hai’.”
“Mera phool bhi jaldi khatam hone ke khatrey mein hai?”
“Bilkul.”
“Mera phool ephemeral hai,” chhote prince ne socha, “aur uske paas sirf chaar thorns hain apne aap ko duniya se bachane ke liye! Aur main use akela chhod gaya!”
Yeh uska pehla afsos tha. Lekin usne apni himmat wapas paayi: “Tum mujhe kya visit karne ka mashwara doge?” usne poocha.
“Planet Earth,” geographer ne jawab diya. “Uska accha reputation hai…”
Aur chhote prince chale gaye, apne phool ke baare mein sochate hue.
XVI
The seventh planet was therefore Earth.
The Earth is not a planet like any other! There are a hundred and eleven kings (not forgetting, of course, the Negro kings), seven thousand geographers, nine hundred thousand businessmen, seven and a half million drunkards, three hundred and eleven million vain, and about two billion grown-ups.
To give you an idea of the dimensions of the Earth, I will tell you that before the invention of electricity, there was a genuine army of four hundred and sixty-two thousand five hundred and eleven street lamp-lighters on all six continents.
Seen from a distance, it made a splendid effect. The movements of this army were regulated like those of an operatic ballet. First came the turn of the street lamp-lighters from New Zealand and Australia. Then, having lit their lanterns, they went to sleep. Next, the lighters of the lamps of China and Siberia entered the dance. Then they also slipped backstage. Following them were the lighters of street lamps from Russia and the Indies, then Africa and Europe, then South America, and finally North America. They never erred in their order of entry. It was a grand spectacle.
Only the lighters of the single street lamp at the North Pole, and his colleague of the only street lamp at the South Pole, led lives of idleness and nonchalance: they worked only twice a year.
Saatwaan planet zameen thi.
Zameen kisi aur planet ki tarah nahi hai! Yahan ek sau gyaarah raja hain (kale rajaon ko nahi bhoolna), saat hazaar geographers, nau lakh businessmen, saadeh sath million drinkers, teen sau gyaarah million vain log, aur takreeban do billion bade log hain.
Zameen ki dimensions ka idea dene ke liye, main batata hoon ke bijli ke invention se pehle, puri duniya ke chhay continents par, chaar sau baees hazaar paanch sau ekad street lamp-lighters ka ek asli fauj tha.
Door se dekha jaye to yeh ek shandaar nazara hota tha. Is fauj ki movements ek operatic ballet ki tarah regulated thi. Pehle New Zealand aur Australia ke street lamp-lighters ki baari aati thi. Phir, apne lantern jalane ke baad, woh soye jaate. Phir, China aur Siberia ke lamp-lighters aate the. Phir woh bhi stage se nikal jaate. Unke baad, Russia aur Indies ke lighters, phir Africa aur Europe, phir South America, aur aakhir mein North America ke lighters aate the. Woh apne entry order mein kabhi bhi ghalati nahi karte. Yeh ek grand spectacle hota tha.
Sirf North Pole aur South Pole par ek ek street lamp ke lighters, jo sirf saal mein do baar kaam karte the, bekaar aur aalsi zindagi guzarte the.
XVII
When one wants to impress the mind, it sometimes happens that one exaggerates a bit. I wasn’t entirely honest in describing the street lamp-lighters. I risk giving a false impression of our planet to those who do not know it. Men occupy very little space on Earth. If the two billion inhabitants who live on Earth were standing close together, as if for a meeting, they would easily fit into a public square twenty miles long and twenty miles wide. We could fit humanity onto the smallest island in the Pacific.
Of course, great people will not believe you. They imagine they occupy a lot of space. They see themselves as important as baobabs. You might suggest they do the math. They love numbers; it would please them. But don’t waste your time on this task. It’s pointless. Trust me.
Once on Earth, the little prince was surprised to find no one. He was beginning to worry that he might be mistaken about the planet, when a ring of moonlight stirred in the sand.
“Good night,” said the little prince, cautiously.
“Good night,” replied the serpent.
“On what planet have I landed?” asked the little prince.
“On Earth, in Africa,” answered the serpent.
“Ah! … So there is nobody on Earth?”
“This is the desert. There is no one in the deserts. The Earth is vast,” said the serpent.
The little prince sat down on a stone and looked up at the sky.
“I wonder,” he said, “if the stars are illuminated so that everyone can one day find his own. Look at my planet. It’s just above us … But how far away it is!”
“It is beautiful,” said the serpent. “What are you doing here?”
“I have difficulties with a flower,” said the little prince.
“Ah!” said the serpent. And they fell silent.
“Where are the men?” resumed the little prince. “We’re a bit alone in the desert…”
“One is also alone among men,” said the serpent.
The little prince looked at him for a long time.
“You’re a funny creature,” he said at last, “thin as a finger.”
“But I am more powerful than the finger of a king,” said the serpent.
The little prince smiled.
“You’re not very powerful … you don’t even have legs … you can’t even travel …”
“I can carry you farther than a ship,” said the serpent. He coiled around the little prince’s ankle like a gold bracelet. “The one I touch, I return to the earth from which he came,” he said. “But you are pure and you come from a star…”
The little prince said nothing.
“You pity me, you so weak, on this rocky Earth. I can help you someday if you regret your planet too much. I can…”
“Oh! I understand very well,” said the little prince, “but why do you always speak in riddles?”
“I solve them all,” said the serpent. And they fell silent.
Jab koi dimaag ko impress karna chahta hai, to kabhi kabhi thoda exaggeration bhi hota hai. Main street lamp-lighters ka jo description diya tha, woh poori tarah sach nahi tha. Main unko itna bara dikhane ka khatar le raha hoon jo unke bina zameen ke sachai ko galat dikhane ka risk hai. Insaan zameen par bahut kam jagah lete hain. Agar zameen par do billion log ek saath khade ho jayein, jaise ek meeting ke liye, to asaani se ek public square mein fit ho jayenge jo bees mile lambai aur bees mile chauhraayi wala hoga. Hum insaan ko Pacific ke chhote se island par bhi fit kar sakte hain.
Zaroor, bade log aap par bharosa nahi karenge. Woh sochte hain ke woh zyada jagah lete hain. Woh apne aap ko baobabs ke barabar samajhte hain. Aap unhe math karne ka keh sakte hain. Unhe numbers pasand hain; yeh unhein pasand aayega. Lekin is kaam ko karne ka waqt zaya mat karein. Yeh bekaar hai. Mera bharosa karen.
Jab little prince zameen par aya, to usne dekha ke koi nahi tha. Woh thoda pareshan ho raha tha ke shayad usne planet ke bare mein galat socha hai, tabhi raat ke ujale ne ret mein ek ghoonghar banaya.
“Good night,” little prince ne ehtiyaat se kaha.
“Good night,” serpant ne jawab diya.
“Main kis planet par aya hoon?” little prince ne poocha.
“Zameen par, Africa mein,” serpant ne jawab diya.
“Ah! … Toh zameen par koi nahi hai?”
“Yeh desert hai. Desert mein koi nahi hota. Zameen bahut badi hai,” serpant ne kaha.
Little prince ek pathar par baith gaya aur aasman ki taraf dekha.
“Main sochta hoon,” usne kaha, “shayad sitare isliye chamakte hain taake har koi ek din apni jagah dhoond sake. Dekho mere planet ko. Yeh humse upar hai … Lekin kitna door hai!”
“Yeh khoobsurat hai,” serpant ne kaha. “Tum yahan kya kar rahe ho?”
“Mujhe ek phool ke saath mushkilat hai,” little prince ne kaha.
“Ah!” serpant ne kaha. Aur dono chup ho gaye.
“Mard kahaan hain?” little prince ne phir se poocha. “Hum desert mein thode akelay hain…”
“Ek insaan bhi insaano ke beech akela hota hai,” serpant ne kaha.
Little prince ne use lamba dekha.
“Tum ek ajeeb makhlooq ho,” usne aakhir mein kaha, “ek ungli ki tarah patla.”
“Lekin main ek raja ki ungli se zyada taqatwar hoon,” serpant ne kaha.
Little prince ne muskuraya.
“Tum zyada taqatwar nahi ho … tumhare paas pair bhi nahi hain … tum safar bhi nahi kar sakte …”
“Main tumhe ek jahaz se bhi zyada door le ja sakta hoon,” serpant ne kaha. Usne little prince ke ankle par aise lapet gaya jaise ek sunehri bracelet. “Jise main choo leta hoon, main usse zameen par wapas le aata hoon jahan se woh aaya,” usne kaha. “Lekin tum paak ho aur tum ek sitara se aaye ho…”
Little prince ne kuch nahi kaha.
“Tum mujh par afsos karte ho, tum itne kamzor ho, is pathar ki zameen par. Main tumhari madad kar sakta hoon agar tum kabhi apne planet ki yaad karoge. Main…”
“Oh! Main achi tarah samajh gaya hoon,” little prince ne kaha, “lekin tum hamesha paheliyon mein kyun baat karte ho?”
“Main sab paheliyon ko hal karta hoon,” serpant ne kaha. Aur dono phir se chup ho gaye.
XVIII
The little prince crossed the desert and encountered only a flower. A flower with three petals, a flower of nothing at all …
“Good morning,” said the little prince.
“Good morning,” replied the flower.
“Where are the men?” the little prince asked politely.
The flower, who had once seen a caravan pass by, responded:
“Men? I believe there are six or seven of them. I saw them years ago. But you never know where to find them. The wind blows them about. They lack roots; they are very unsettled.”
“Goodbye,” said the little prince.
“Adieu,” said the flower.
Little Prince ne registan ko paar kiya aur sirf ek phool se mulaqat ki. Yeh phool teen pankhudi wala tha, ek aise phool jo kuch bhi nahi tha…
“Good morning,” little prince ne kaha.
“Good morning,” phool ne jawab diya.
“Log kahaan hain?” little prince ne tameez se poocha.
Phool, jo ek caravan ko guzarte hue dekh chuki thi, ne jawab diya:
“Log? Mujhe lagta hai ke chhe ya saat hain. Main ne unhe kuch saal pehle dekha tha. Lekin tum nahi jaante ke unhein kahaan paoge. Hawa unhein idhar-udhar le jaati hai. Unke paas jad nahi hain; woh bahut bechain hain.”
“Goodbye,” little prince ne kaha.
“Adieu,” phool ne jawab diya.
XIX
The little prince ascended a high mountain. The only mountains he had ever known were the three volcanoes that came up to his knee. He used the extinct volcano as a stool.
“From a mountain high like this,” he said to himself, “I shall suddenly see the whole planet and all the men.” But he perceived nothing but sharp needles of rock.
“Good morning,” he said at random.
“Hello … Hello … Hello …” replied the echo.
“Who are you?” asked the little prince.
“Who are you? Who are you? Who are you?” replied the echo.
“Be my friend, I am alone,” said the little prince.
“I am alone … I am alone … I am alone …” echoed back.
“What a strange planet!” he thought then. “It is quite dry, and all pointed and salty. And men lack imagination. They repeat what they are told … At home I had a flower: it always spoke first …”
Little Prince ne ek ooncha pahad chadhai ki. Usne sirf teen volcano dekhe the jo uske ghutnon tak aate the. Usne extinct volcano ko ek kursi ki tarah use kiya.
“Is oonche pahad se,” usne socha, “main achanak poori duniya aur sab log dekh sakunga.” Magar usne sirf teekhe pathar dekhe.
“Good morning,” usne bina kisi maqsad ke kaha.
“Hello … Hello … Hello …” echo ne jawab diya.
“Tum kaun ho?” little prince ne poocha.
“Tum kaun ho? Tum kaun ho? Tum kaun ho?” echo ne kaha.
“Mere dost bano, main akela hoon,” little prince ne kaha.
“Main akela … Main akela … Main akela …” echo ne kaha.
“Kitni ajeeb planet hai!” usne socha. “Yeh bilkul sookha hai, aur sab teekha aur namkeen hai. Aur logon mein koi tasawwur nahi hai. Woh sirf wahi dohte hain jo unhein kaha jata hai … Mere ghar par ek phool tha: woh hamesha pehle baat karta tha …”
XX
But it happened that the little prince, having walked for a long time through the sands, rocks, and snows, finally discovered a road. And the roads all lead to men.
“Good morning,” he said.
It was a garden full of roses.
“Good morning,” said the roses.
The little prince looked at them. They all looked like his flower.
“Who are you?” he asked, stunned.
“We are roses,” said the roses.
“Ah!” said the little prince.
He felt very unhappy. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in the universe. Yet here were five thousand, all alike, in one garden!
“She would be very upset,” he said to himself, “if she saw this—she would cough so much and pretend to die to escape ridicule. And I would be obliged to pretend to treat her, for otherwise, she would really let herself die to humiliate me …”
Then he said to himself again: “I thought I was rich with a single flower, but I possess only an ordinary rose. That and my three volcanoes, which reach me at the knee, and one of which, perhaps, is extinct forever, do not make me a great prince …”
And, lying in the grass, he began to cry.
Lekin, kaafi dair se registan, pathar, aur baraf mein chalne ke baad, little prince ne ek raasta dhoondh liya. Aur raaste sab logon ki taraf jaate hain.
“Good morning,” usne kaha.
Yeh ek bagh tha jahan rozay the.
“Good morning,” rozay ne jawab diya.
Little prince ne unhein dekha. Sab rozay uski phool ki tarah lag rahe the.
“Aap log kaun hain?” usne hairaan hokar poocha.
“Humein rozay kehte hain,” rozay ne kaha.
“Ah!” little prince ne kaha.
Usko bahut gham hua. Uski phool ne kaha tha ke wo apni tarah ki ek akele phool hai duniya mein. Lekin yahaan paanch hazaar, ek hi tarah ke rozay, ek bagh mein hain!
“Woh bahut pareshan hoti,” usne socha, “agar usne yeh dekha—wo itna khaansi karti aur marne ka naatak karti taake sharminda na ho. Aur mujhe uska ilaj karna padta, warna wo sach mein mar jaati taake mujhe nishana banaye…”
Phir usne phir se socha: “Maine ek hi phool ko apna samjha aur ameer samjha, lekin ab mujhe lagta hai ke main sirf ek aam rozay ka malik hoon. Aur mere teen volcano, jo mere ghutnon tak hain, aur ek shayad hamesha ke liye khatam hai, mujhe bada raja nahi banate…”
Aur, ghaas par lete hue, usne rona shuru kar diya.
XXI
And then the Fox appeared:
“Good morning,” said the fox.
“Good morning,” replied the little prince politely, who turned but saw nothing.
“I am here,” said the voice, “under the apple tree.”
“Who are you?” asked the little prince. “You’re quite pretty…”
“I am a fox,” said the fox.
“Come play with me,” suggested the little prince. “I’m so sad…”
“I cannot play with you,” said the fox. “I am not domesticated.”
“Ah! Pardon,” said the little prince.
But after a moment’s reflection, he added, “What does ‘tame’ mean?”
“You’re not from here,” said the fox. “What are you looking for?”
“I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does ‘tame’ mean?”
“Men,” said the fox, “they have rifles and they hunt. It is very embarrassing! They also breed chickens. That is their only interest. Are you looking for chickens?”
“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for some friends. What does ‘tame’ mean?”
“It’s too forgotten,” said the fox. “It means ‘create links.’”
“Create links?”
“Of course,” said the fox. “You are but a little boy to me, like a hundred thousand little boys. And I do not need you. And you do not need me either. I am only a fox to you, like a hundred thousand foxes. But if you tame me, we will need one another. You will be unique in the world for me. I will be for you unique in the world…”
“I begin to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower … I think she tamed me…”
“It is possible,” said the fox. “We see all sorts of things on Earth…”
“Oh! It is not on Earth,” said the little prince.
The fox seemed very intrigued.
“On another planet?”
“Yes.”
“There are hunters on this planet?”
“No.”
“That’s interesting! And hens?”
“No.”
“Nothing is perfect,” the fox sighed.
But the fox returned to his idea:
“My life is monotonous. I chase chickens, men chase me. All the chickens resemble each other, and all men are alike. So I’m a little bored. But if you tame me, my life will be as sunny. I will experience a footstep that will be different from all the others. The other steps make me go underground. Yours will call me out of the burrow, like music. And look! You see, over there, the fields of wheat? I do not eat bread. Wheat for me is useless. The wheat fields do not remind me of anything. And that’s sad! But you have golden hair. Then it will be wonderful when you have tamed me! The wheat, which is gilded, will make me remember you. And I will love the sound of the wind in wheat…”
The fox fell silent and looked at the little prince for a long time.
“Please … tame me!” he said.
“I will,” replied the little prince, “but I have not much time. I have friends to discover and a lot to know.”
“We only know the things we tame,” said the fox. “Men no longer have the time to know anything. They buy ready-made things from merchants. But as there are no merchants of friends, men no longer have friends. If you want a friend, tame me!”
“What should be done?” said the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “You will sit first a little far from me, like that, in the grass. I will look at you from the corner of my eye and you will not say anything. Language is a source of misunderstanding. But every day you can sit a little closer…”
The next day the little prince returned.
“It would have been better to return at the same hour,” said the fox. “If you come, for example, at four o’clock in the afternoon, at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. The more time passes, the happier I will feel. At four o’clock I shall be agitated and worried; I shall discover the price of happiness! But if you come at any time, I will never know what time to dress my heart… it takes rites.”
“What is a rite?” said the little prince.
“It’s too much forgotten,” said the fox. “This is what makes one day different from other days, one hour different from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. They dance on Thursday with the girls of the village. Then Thursday is a wonderful day! I’ll walk up the vineyard. If the hunters danced at any time, the days would all be alike, and I would have no holiday.”
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of departure was near:
“Ah!” said the fox, “I will weep.”
“It is your fault,” said the little prince. “I did not wish you any harm, but you wanted me to tame you.”
“Of course,” said the fox.
“But you’re going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Of course,” said the fox.
“Then you gain nothing!”
“I gain,” said the fox, “because of the color of the corn.” Then he added:
“Go and see the roses again. You will understand that yours is unique in the world. You will return to say good-bye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret.”
The little prince went to see the roses again.
“You are not at all like my rose. You are nothing yet,” he said. “No one has tamed you and you have not tamed anyone. You’re like my fox. It was only a fox like a hundred thousand others. But I made him my friend, and he is now unique in the world.”
And the roses were very embarrassed.
“You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he said again. “You are not going to die for you. Of course, my rose, an ordinary passer-by would think that she resembles you. But she alone is more important than you all, since it is she that I watered. Since it was she whom I placed under the globe, since it was she whom I sheltered by the screen. Since it is she whose caterpillars I have killed (except the two or three for butterflies). Since it is my rose.”
And he returned to the fox.
“Adieu,” he said.
“Good-bye,” said the fox. “Here is my secret. It is very simple: one sees only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”
“The essential thing is invisible to the eyes,” repeated the little prince, in order to remember.
“It’s the time you lost for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
“It’s the time I lost for my rose,” said the little prince, in order to remember.
“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible forever for what you have tamed. You’re responsible for your rose…”
“I am responsible for my rose,” repeated the little prince, in order to remember.
Aur phir ek lomri aayi:
“Good morning,” lomri ne kaha.
“Good morning,” little prince ne shistagi se jawab diya, lekin usne kuch nahi dekha.
“Main yahan hoon,” awaaz ne kaha, “seb ke darakht ke neeche.”
“Aap kaun hain?” little prince ne poocha. “Aap kaafi achi lag rahi hain…”
“Main ek lomri hoon,” lomri ne kaha.
“Kya aap mere saath khelengi?” little prince ne kaha. “Main bohot udaas hoon…”
“Main aap ke saath nahi khel sakti,” lomri ne kaha. “Main paltoo nahi hoon.”
“Ah! Maaf karna,” little prince ne kaha.
Lekin thodi dair sochne ke baad, usne poocha, “Paltoo ka kya matlab hai?”
“Aap yahan se nahi hain,” lomri ne kaha. “Aap kya dhoondh rahe hain?”
“Main insaanon ko dhoondh raha hoon,” little prince ne kaha. “Paltoo ka kya matlab hai?”
“Insaan,” lomri ne kaha, “unke paas bandookain hain aur wo shikaar karte hain. Yeh bohot ajeeb hai! Wo bhi murghiyan palte hain. Yeh unka sirf ek shauq hai. Kya aap murghiyon ko dhoondh rahe hain?”
“Nahi,” little prince ne kaha. “Main doston ko dhoondh raha hoon. Paltoo ka kya matlab hai?”
“Yeh bohot purana hai,” lomri ne kaha. “Yeh matlab hai ‘taalluq banana.’”
“Taalluq banana?”
“Haan,” lomri ne kaha. “Aap mere liye ek chhote bachche hain, jaise ek lakh chhote bachche. Aur mujhe aap ki zaroorat nahi. Aur aap ko meri bhi zaroorat nahi. Main sirf ek lomri hoon aap ke liye, jaise ek lakh lomriyan. Lekin agar aap mujhe paltoo bana lein, to hum dono ko zaroorat hogi ek doosre ki. Aap duniya mein mere liye ek hi honge. Main aap ke liye duniya mein ek hi hoongi…”
“Main samajh raha hoon,” little prince ne kaha. “Ek phool hai … Lagta hai usne mujhe paltoo banaya…”
“Yeh mumkin hai,” lomri ne kaha. “Duniya mein har cheez hoti hai…”
“Oh! Yeh duniya pe nahi hai,” little prince ne kaha.
Lomri kaafi intrigued lag raha tha.
“Ek doosri duniya pe?”
“Haan.”
“Wahan shikaar hai?”
“Nahi.”
“Yeh interesting hai! Aur murghiyan?”
“Nahi.”
“Kuch bhi perfect nahi hai,” lomri ne sigh kiya.
Lekin lomri apni baat par wapas aayi:
“Meri zindagi monotonous hai. Main murghiyan shikaar karta hoon, insaan mujhe shikaar karte hain. Sab murghiyan ek jaisi hoti hain, aur sab insaan bhi ek jaise hain. Isliye main thoda bore hoon. Lekin agar aap mujhe paltoo bana lein, meri zindagi roshan ho jayegi. Main ek aisa qadam mehsoos karunga jo sab qadam se alag hoga. Baaki qadam mujhe zameen ke neeche le jaati hain. Aap ka qadam mujhe zameen ke upar le aayega, jaise ek music. Aur dekho! Wahan, gehun ke khet hain? Main roti nahi khaata. Gahun mere liye bekaar hai. Gahun ke khet mujhe kuch yaad nahi dilate. Aur yeh udaas hai! Lekin aap ke sunehri baalon se. Jab aap mujhe paltoo bana leinge, toh sunehri gehun mujhe yaad dilayegi. Aur main gehun mein hawa ki awaaz ko pasand karunga…”
Lomri chup ho gayi aur little prince ko lambi nazar se dekha.
“Please … mujhe paltoo bana do!” usne kaha.
“Main bana doonga,” little prince ne kaha, “lekin mere paas zyada waqt nahi hai. Mujhe doston ko dhoondhna hai aur bohot kuch jaan-na hai.”
“Humein un cheezon ke baare mein hi pata chalta hai jo hum paltoo banate hain,” lomri ne kaha. “Insaan ab koi bhi cheez nahi jaante. Wo merchant se ready-made cheezen kharidte hain. Lekin doston ke merchants nahi hote, isliye insaan ke paas doston nahi hote. Agar aapko dost chahiye, mujhe paltoo banaao!”
“Kya karna hoga?” little prince ne poocha.
“Aapko bohot sabr karna hoga,” lomri ne jawab diya. “Aap pehle thoda door baithenge, aise, ghaas mein. Main aapko aankhon ke kone se dekhoongi aur aap kuch nahi kahenge. Zubaan ghalat fehmi ka zariya hai. Lekin har din aap thoda aur kareeb baith sakte hain…”
Agli din little prince wapas aaya.
“Yeh behtar hota agar aap ek hi waqt pe wapas aate,” lomri ne kaha. “Agar aap, maslan, shaam ko 4 baje aate hain, toh 3 baje se main khushi mehsoos karungi. Jaise jaise waqt guzrega, main zyada khush hoti jaungi. Shaam ko 4 baje main pareshan aur chinta mein hoongi; main khushi ka qeemat jaanungi! Lekin agar aap kisi bhi waqt aayenge, main nahi jaanungi ke kab apne dil ko sajaoon… yeh rasm hai.”
“Rasm kya hai?” little prince ne poocha.
“Yeh bohot purana hai,” lomri ne kaha. “Yeh hai jo ek din ko doosre din se alag banata hai, ek ghante ko doosre ghante se alag banata hai. Ek rasm, maslan, mere shikaar karne waalon mein hai. Wo Thursday ko gaon ki ladkiyon ke saath dance karte hain. Phir Thursday ek behtareen din hota hai! Main wineyard mein chalungi. Agar shikaar karne waale kisi bhi waqt dance karte, to saare din ek jaise hote, aur mujhe koi chhutti nahi milti.”
Toh little prince ne lomri ko paltoo bana diya. Aur jab rukhsat ka waqt aaya:
“Ah!” lomri ne kaha, “Main roongi.”
“Yeh aap ki galti hai,” little prince ne kaha. “Maine aap ko nuqsan nahi pahunchaya, lekin aap chahte the ke main aapko paltoo banaoon.”
“Bilkul,” lomri ne kaha.
“Lekin aap ro rahi hain!” little prince ne kaha.
“Bilkul,” lomri ne kaha.
“Toh aapko kuch nahi milta!”
“Main milti hoon,” lomri ne kaha, “gandum ke rang ki wajah se.” Phir usne kaha:
“Jaake phoolon ko phir se dekho. Aap samajh jayenge ke aapka phool duniya mein unique hai. Aap wapas aakar mujhe kehne aayenge, aur main aapko ek raaz doongi.”
Little prince phoolon ko phir se dekhne gaya.
“Aap meri phool se bilkul alag hain. Aap abhi kuch nahi hain,” usne kaha. “Kisi ne aapko paltoo nahi banaya aur aapne kisi ko paltoo nahi banaya. Aap mere lomri ki tarah hain. Yeh sirf ek lomri thi, jaise ek lakh lomriyan. Lekin maine ise apna dost bana diya, aur ab yeh duniya mein unique hai.”
Aur phool bahut sharminda hue.
“Aap khoobsurat hain, lekin aap khali hain,” usne phir kaha. “Aap marne nahi waale. Zaroor, mere phool ko ek aam guzernay waala samjhega. Lekin wo akeli zyada important hai, kyunke main usko paani deta hoon. Kyunke main usko globe ke neeche rakhta hoon, kyunke main usko screen ke saath shelter karta hoon. Kyunke maine uske caterpillars ko maar diya (do ya teen chhod kar jo titli ban jaate hain). Kyunke wo meri phool hai.”
Aur wo lomri ke paas wapas aaya.
“Adieu,” usne kaha.
“Good-bye,” lomri ne kaha. “Yeh mera raaz hai. Yeh bohot simple hai: sirf dil se dekha jaata hai. Jo zaroori hai wo aankhon se nazar nahi aata.”
“Zaroori cheez aankhon se nazar nahi aati,” little prince ne dobarah kaha, taake yaad rahe.
“Yeh waqt jo aapne apni phool ke liye kharch kiya, yeh hi aapki phool ko itni important banaata hai.”
“Yeh waqt jo maine apni phool ke liye kharch kiya,” little prince ne kaha, taake yaad rahe.
“Insaan is sachai ko bhool gaye hain,” lomri ne kaha. “Lekin aapko isse nahi bhoolna chahiye. Aap hamesha us cheez ke liye zimmedar hain jo aapne paltoo banayi. Aap apni phool ke liye zimmedar hain…”
“Main apni phool ke liye zimmedar hoon,” little prince ne dobarah kaha, taake yaad rahe.
XXII
“Good morning,” said the little prince.
“Good morning,” said the switchman.
“What are you doing here?” asked the little prince.
“I’m sorting out the travelers, in bundles of a thousand,” said the switchman. “I ship the trains that take them, sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left.”
And a flashing light, thundering like a roar, made the switching cab tremble.
“They are in a great hurry,” said the little prince. “What are they looking for?”
“The man of the locomotive ignores it himself,” said the switchman.
And in a reverse direction, a second illuminated flash fell.
“They’re coming back already?” asked the little prince.
“They are not the same,” said the switchman. “It’s an exchange.”
“They were not happy, where they were?”
“One is never satisfied where one is,” said the switchman. And he was drowned out by the thunder of a third rapid illuminated.
“They are pursuing the first travelers?” asked the little prince.
“They are not pursuing anything at all,” said the switchman. “They sleep in it, or they yawn. The children alone press their noses against the windows.”
“Children alone know what they are looking for,” said the little prince. “They lose time for a rag doll, and it becomes very important, and if they are taken away, they cry…”
“They’re lucky,” said the switchman.
“Good morning,” little prince ne kaha.
“Good morning,” switchman ne kaha.
“Aap yahan kya kar rahe hain?” little prince ne poocha.
“Main musafiron ko sort kar raha hoon, hazaar hazaar ke groups mein,” switchman ne kaha. “Main unhe train mein bhejta hoon, kabhi right, kabhi left.”
Aur ek chamakdaar roshni, jo garaj ki tarah gungunati thi, switch cab ko kaanpne lagi.
“Wo bohot jaldi mein hain,” little prince ne kaha. “Wo kya dhoondh rahe hain?”
“Locomotive ka aadmi khud nahi jaanta,” switchman ne kaha.
Aur ek aur chamakdaar roshni giri, lekin pichli se ulta.
“Wo wapas aa rahe hain?” little prince ne poocha.
“Wo wahi nahi hain,” switchman ne kaha. “Yeh ek exchange hai.”
“Wo jahan they, wahan khush nahi the?”
“Ek kabhi bhi jahan hota hai, wahan khush nahi hota,” switchman ne kaha. Aur ek tezi se chalti hui roshni ke garaj ne uski baat ko dhak diya.
“Wo pehle ke musafiron ka peecha kar rahe hain?” little prince ne poocha.
“Wo kisi cheez ka peecha nahi kar rahe,” switchman ne kaha. “Wo usme so rahe hain, ya jum rahe hain. Sirf bachche khidkiyon ke saath apni naak lagaate hain.”
“Sirf bachche hi jaante hain ke wo kya dhoondh rahe hain,” little prince ne kaha. “Wo ek rag doll ke liye waqt kho dete hain, aur wo bohot important ban jaati hai, aur agar wo le jaayi jaaye, to wo rote hain…”
“Wo naseeb wale hain,” switchman ne kaha.
XXIII
“Good morning,” said the little prince.
“Good morning,” said the merchant.
He was a merchant of sophisticated pills that quenched thirst. One swallows one a week, and one no longer feels the need to drink.
“Why do you sell that?” asked the little prince.
“It’s a big saving of time,” said the merchant. “Experts have calculated that we save fifty-three minutes a week.”
“And what do we do with fifty-three minutes?” asked the little prince.
“We do what we want with it,” said the merchant.
“I,” said the little prince, “if I had fifty-three minutes to spend, I would walk slowly toward a fountain.”
“Good morning,” little prince ne kaha.
“Good morning,” merchant ne kaha.
Wo ek merchant tha jo sophisticated pills bechta tha jo pyaas ko bujhati thi. Ek pill haftay mein ek baar khane se, insaan ko paani peene ki zaroorat nahi rehti.
“Aap yeh kyun bechte hain?” little prince ne poocha.
“Yeh waqt ki bachat hai,” merchant ne kaha. “Experts ne hisaab lagaya hai ke hum haftay mein pachaas teeh minutes bacha lete hain.”
“Aur pachaas teeh minutes ke saath hum kya karte hain?” little prince ne poocha.
“Jo bhi chahen, uske saath karte hain,” merchant ne kaha.
“Main,” little prince ne kaha, “agar mere paas pachaas teeh minutes hote, to main dheere dheere ek fountain ki taraf chalta.”
XXIV
We were on the eighth day of my breakdown in the desert, and I had listened to the merchant’s story, drinking the last drop of my supply of water:
“Ah!” I said to the little prince, “your memories are very pretty, but I have not yet repaired my plane, I have nothing more to drink, and I would also be happy if I could walk gently toward a fountain!”
“My friend, the fox,” he said.
“My little fellow, it’s no longer the fox!” I replied.
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to die of thirst…”
He did not understand my reasoning but replied, “It’s nice to have a friend, even if we’re going to die. I am very glad to have had a friend fox…”
“He does not measure danger,” I said. “He never has hunger or thirst. A little sunlight is enough…”
But he looked at me and answered my thought, “I’m thirsty too… look for a well…”
I made a gesture of weariness: it was absurd to look for a well, at random, in the immensity of the desert. Nevertheless, we set out on the march.
When we had walked for hours, in silence, night fell, and the stars began to light. I saw them as if in a dream, having a little fever because of my thirst. The words of the little prince danced in my memory:
“Are you thirsty then, too?” I asked him.
But he did not answer my question. He simply said, “Water can also be good for the heart…”
I did not understand his answer but was silent. I knew that he should not be interrogated. He was tired. He sat. I sat down beside him. And after a pause, he said, “The stars are beautiful because of a flower that one does not see…”
I answered “of course” and looked, without speaking, at the folds of sand under the moon. “The desert is beautiful,” he added.
And it was true. I have always loved the desert. It sits on a sand dune. We see nothing. Nothing is heard. And yet something radiates in silence…
“What beautifies the desert,” said the little prince, “is that it hides a well somewhere…”
I was surprised to suddenly understand this mysterious radiance of the sand. When I was a little boy, I lived in an old house, and legend had it that a treasure was buried there. Of course, no one has ever discovered it, nor perhaps even sought it. But it delighted the whole house. My house hid a secret in the depths of her heart…
“Yes,” I said to the little prince, “whether it be the house, the stars, or the desert, what makes their beauty invisible!”
“I am satisfied,” he said, “that you agree with my fox.”
As the little prince fell asleep, I took him in my arms and set off again. I was touched. It seemed to me that I was carrying a fragile treasure. It even seemed to me that there was nothing more fragile on Earth. In the light of the moon, I looked at that pale brow, those closed eyes, the locks of hair that trembled in the wind, and I said to myself, “What I see here is only a bark. The most important is invisible…”
As his half-opened lips were half-smiling, I said to myself, “What moves me so strongly about this little prince asleep is his fidelity to a flower; it is the image of a rose radiating in him like the flame of a lamp, even when he sleeps…” And I guessed it was even more fragile. It is necessary to protect the lamps: a gust of wind can extinguish them…
And, walking thus, I discovered the well at dawn.
Hum meri desert mein breakdown ke aathwe din par the, aur main merchant ki kahani sun raha tha, paani ka aakhri qatra pi chuka tha:
“Ah!” maine little prince se kaha, “tumhari yaadein bahut khoobsurat hain, lekin maine abhi tak apni plane repair nahi ki, mere paas aur paani nahi hai, aur mujhe bhi khushi hoti agar main dheere dheere ek fountain ki taraf ja sakta!”
“Mere dost, fox,” usne kaha.
“Mere chote dost, ab woh fox nahi raha!” maine jawab diya.
“Kyun?” usne poocha.
“Kyunki hum pyaas se marne wale hain…”
Usne meri soch ko nahi samjha lekin jawab diya, “Dost hona acha hota hai, chahe hum mar rahe hain. Main apne dost fox ko paake bahut khush hoon…”
“Woh khatar ko nahi samajhta,” maine kaha. “Usko na to bhukh hoti hai na pyaas. Ek thodi si dhoop bhi kafi hai…”
Lekin usne mujhe dekha aur meri soch ko jawab diya, “Mujhe bhi pyaas lag rahi hai… ek well dhoondho…”
Maine thakawat se ek ishara kiya: desert ki bepanah chahra mein well dhoondna bekaar tha. Phir bhi, humne chalna shuru kiya.
Jab humne ghanton tak chale, khamoshi mein, raat gir gayi, aur sitare chamakne lage. Main unhe ek khwab ki tarah dekh raha tha, pyaas ke kaaran thoda bukhar bhi tha. Little prince ke lafz mere zehan mein dance kar rahe the:
“Kya tumhe bhi pyaas lagi hai?” maine usse poocha.
Lekin usne mere sawaal ka jawab nahi diya. Usne bas kaha, “Paani dil ke liye bhi accha hota hai…”
Maine uska jawab nahi samjha lekin chup raha. Main jaanta tha ke usse sawal nahi karne chahiye. Wo thaka hua tha. Wo baith gaya. Main bhi uske paas baith gaya. Aur kuch der baad, usne kaha, “Sitare khoobsurat hain kyunki ek phool jo nazar nahi aata…”
Maine “haan” kaha aur bina kuch bole chaandni raat mein sand ki lehron ko dekha. “Desert khoobsurat hai,” usne add kiya.
Aur yeh sach tha. Main hamesha desert se pyaar karta hoon. Wo ek sand dune par baithe hain. Kuch nahi dikhai deta. Koi awaaz nahi sunai deti. Aur phir bhi kuch khaamoshi mein chamakta hai…
“Jo desert ko khoobsurat banata hai,” little prince ne kaha, “wo hai ke wo kahin ek well ko chhupaata hai…”
Mujhe achanak se is raaz ko samajhne mein hairani hui. Jab main chhota tha, meri purani house mein ek kahani thi ke wahan ek khazana chhupa hua tha. Zaroor, kabhi bhi kisi ne use nahi dhunda, na shayad dhoondha bhi. Lekin yeh puri house ko khushi deti thi. Meri house mein ek raaz tha jo uske dil ki gehraiyon mein chhupa tha…
“Haan,” maine little prince se kaha, “chahe wo house ho, sitare ho, ya desert, jo unki khoobsurati ko nazar nahi aata!”
“Main khush hoon,” usne kaha, “ke tum mere fox ke saath sahmat ho.”
Jab little prince so gaya, maine use apne haathon mein uthaya aur phir se chalna shuru kiya. Main chh gaya. Mujhe laga jaise main ek narm khazana le ja raha hoon. Chaandni ki roshni mein, main uske pale maathay, band aankhon, aur hawa mein kanpati hui baalon ko dekh raha tha, aur maine socha, “Jo main yahan dekh raha hoon wo sirf ek bark hai. Jo sabse zaroori hai wo nazar nahi aata…”
Jab uski adha khuli hont par muskurahat thi, maine socha, “Jo mujhe itna gehra tasir karta hai, wo uski phool ke liye wafadari hai; yeh ek rose ki tasveer hai jo usme chamakti hai jaise ek lamp ki aag, chahe wo so raha ho…” Aur mujhe laga yeh aur bhi zyada narm hai. Lamps ko protect karna zaroori hai: ek hawa ki jhonk isse bujha sakti hai…
Aur, is tarah chalate hue, maine subah ke waqt ek well dhoondh liya.
XXV
“Men,” said the little prince, “they go into the rapids, but they do not know what they are looking for.” Then they move and turn in circles…
And he added, “It’s not worth it…”
The well we reached did not resemble the Saharan wells. The Saharan wells are simple holes dug in the sand. This one resembled a village well. But there was no village there, and I thought I was dreaming.
“It’s strange,” I said to the little prince, “everything is ready: the pulley, the bucket, and the rope…”
He laughed, touched the rope, and pulled the pulley. The pulley moaned as an old weathervane moaned when the wind had long slept.
“You hear,” said the little prince, “we awaken this well and it sings…”
I did not want him to make an effort: “Let me do it,” I said, “it’s too heavy for you.”
Slowly, I hoisted the bucket up to the curb. I installed it there plumb. In my ears was the song of the pulley, and in the still trembling water, I saw the sun shaking.
“I am thirsty for that water,” said the little prince, “give me something to drink.” And I understood what he had been looking for!
I lifted the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as a party. This water was much more than a food. It was born of the march under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, as a gift. When I was a little boy, the light of the Christmas tree, the music of the midnight mass, the sweetness of the smiles made all the radiance of the Christmas present that I received.
“The men of your house,” said the little prince, “cultivate five thousand roses in the same garden, and they do not find what they seek.”
“They do not find it,” I replied.
“And yet what they are looking for could be found in a single rose or a little water…”
“Of course,” I replied.
And the little prince added, “But the eyes are blind. You must seek with your heart.”
I was drunk. I breathed deeply. The sand at daybreak is honey-colored. I was also pleased with this color of honey. Why should I have trouble?
“You must keep your promise,” said the little prince, who had once more sat down beside me.
“What promise?”
“You know… a muzzle for my sheep… I am responsible for this flower!”
I took out my drawing sketches from my pocket. The little prince perceived them and said, laughing, “Your baobabs, they look a bit like cabbages…”
“Oh!”
I, who was so proud of the baobabs!
“Your fox… his ears… they look a bit like horns… and they are too long!” And he laughed again.
“You are unjust, little fellow, I knew nothing to draw but boas closed and boas open.”
“Oh! It will go,” he said, “the children know.”
So I cracked a muzzle. And I had my heart tight and gave it to him: “You have projects I do not know…”
But he did not answer me. He told me:
“You know, my fall on Earth… tomorrow will be the anniversary…” Then, after a pause, he said, “I fell very close here…” And he blushed.
And again, without understanding why, I experienced a bizarre grief. However, a question came to me: “Then it was not by chance that the morning I met you a week ago, you walked like that, all alone, a thousand miles from all the inhabited regions! You were returning to the point of your fall?”
The little prince blushed again. And I added, hesitating, “Perhaps because of the birthday?”
The little prince blushed again. He never answered questions, but when you blush, it means “yes,” does it not?
“Ah!” I said, “I am afraid.” But he answered, “You have to work now. You have to go back to your machine. I’m waiting for you here. Come back tomorrow night…”
But I was not reassured. I remembered the fox. We risk crying a little if we let ourselves tame…
“Log,” little prince ne kaha, “woh rapids mein chalte hain, lekin unhein pata nahi hota ke woh kya dhoondh rahe hain.” Phir woh chalne lagte hain aur ghoomte hain…
Aur usne add kiya, “Yeh kuch nahi hai…”
Jis well tak hum pahunche, woh Sahara ke wells se mukhtalif tha. Sahara ke wells bas saade gaddhe hote hain jo rait mein khudaiye jaate hain. Yeh ek gaon ke well jaisa tha. Lekin wahan koi gaon nahi tha, aur mujhe laga ke main khwab dekh raha hoon.
“Yeh ajeeb hai,” maine little prince se kaha, “sab kuch tayaar hai: pulley, bucket, aur rope…”
Usne hanskar rope ko chuha aur pulley ko kheenchna shuru kiya. Pulley purane weather-vane ki tarah cheekh rahi thi jab hawa ne kab kaam band kar diya tha.
“Sun rahe ho,” little prince ne kaha, “hum is well ko jagate hain aur yeh gaata hai…”
Main nahi chahta tha ke woh mehnat kare: “Mujhe karne do,” maine kaha, “yeh tumhare liye bohot bhaari hai.”
Dheere dheere, maine bucket ko curb tak uthaaya. Maine use wahan seedha rakha. Mere kaanon mein pulley ki song thi, aur thodi si kamp rahe paani mein, maine suraj ko kanpate dekha.
“Mujhe us paani ki pyaas hai,” little prince ne kaha, “mujhe kuch peene do.” Aur maine samajh gaya ke woh kya dhoondh raha tha!
Maine bucket ko uske honthon tak uthaya. Usne peeya, uski aankhein band thi. Yeh paani ek party ki tarah meetha tha. Yeh paani sirf khana nahi tha. Yeh sitaron ke neeche chalne, pulley ke gaane, aur mere haathon ke mehnat se janm liya tha. Yeh dil ke liye acha tha, ek tohfa ke roop mein. Jab main chhota tha, Christmas tree ki roshni, midnight mass ki music, aur muskurahat ki mithaas ne Christmas ke tohfe ki chamak ko bana diya tha.
“Tumhare ghar ke log,” little prince ne kaha, “paanch hazar roses ek hi garden mein ugate hain, aur woh nahi dhoondhte jo woh chahte hain.”
“Woh nahi dhoondhte,” maine jawab diya.
“Aur jo woh dhoondh rahe hain woh ek hi rose ya thoda paani mein mil sakta hai…”
“Bilkul,” maine kaha.
Aur little prince ne add kiya, “Lekin aankhein andhi hoti hain. Tumhe dil se dhoondhna chahiye.”
Main nashe mein tha. Maine gehri saans li. Sand subah ke waqt shahad rang ki hoti hai. Main is honey ke rang se bhi khush tha. Kyun mujhe pareshani ho?
“Tumhe apni vaada pura karni chahiye,” little prince ne kaha, jo ek baar phir mere paas baitha.
“Kaisi vaada?”
“Tumhe yaad hai… mere sheep ke liye ek muzzle… Main is phool ka zimmedar hoon!”
Maine apne drawing sketches pocket se nikaale. Little prince ne unhe dekha aur hans kar kaha, “Tumhare baobabs thode cabbage jese lagte hain…”
“Oh!”
Main, jo baobabs par itna fakhar karta tha!
“Tumhara fox… uske kaan… thode horns jese lagte hain… aur wo bahut lambay hain!” Aur usne phir se hansna shuru kiya.
“Tum na-insaaf ho, chhote dost, mujhe sirf boas closed aur boas open hi aati thi.”
“Oh! Theek hai,” usne kaha, “bachche samajh jaate hain.”
Toh maine ek muzzle banaya. Aur mere dil ko kashti se, maine use diya: “Tumhare paas projects hain jo mujhe nahi pata…”
Lekin usne mujhe jawab nahi diya. Usne kaha:
“Tumhe pata hai, meri zameen par girne ki… kal uski anniversary hai…” Phir, ek rukawat ke baad, usne kaha, “Main yahan bahut nazdeek gir gaya tha…” Aur uski cheekh bhi laal thi.
Aur ek baar phir, bina samjhe, maine ajeeb dukh mehsoos kiya. Lekin, ek sawaal mere zehan mein aaya: “Phir, jab maine tumhe ek hafte pehle mila, tum aise hi akela chal rahe the, sabhab se ek hazaar mile door se! Tum wapas tumhare girne ke point ki taraf ja rahe the?”
Little prince phir se laal ho gaya. Aur maine, jhijhak se kaha, “Shayad birthday ki wajah se?”
Little prince phir se laal ho gaya. Wo kabhi sawalon ka jawab nahi deta, lekin jab tum laal hote ho, iska matlab “haan” hai, kya nahi?
“Ah!” maine kaha, “Mujhe dar lag raha hai.” Lekin usne jawab diya, “Tumhe ab kaam karna chahiye. Tumhe apne machine ki taraf wapas jaana chahiye. Main yahan tumhara intezaar kar raha hoon. Kal raat wapas aao…”
Lekin main puri tarah se tasalli nahi thi. Main fox ko yaad kar raha tha. Agar hum khud ko tame karne dete hain to thodi bahut roti hain…
XXVI
There was, beside the well, a ruin of an old stone wall. When I returned from my work the next evening, I saw from afar my little prince sitting up there with his legs dangling. And I heard him speak:
“So you do not remember?” he said. “It’s not quite here!” Another voice, no doubt, replied, for he continued, “Yes! Yes! It’s the day, but it’s not here…”
I continued my walk towards the wall. I did not see or hear anyone. Yet the little prince replied again, “Of course. You will see where my trace begins in the sand. You just have to wait for me. I’ll be there tonight.”
I was twenty meters from the wall and I still could not see anything. The little prince said again, after a silence, “You have good venom? Are you sure you will not make me suffer for a long time?” I stopped, my heart tight, but I still did not understand.
“Now go,” he said, “I want to go down again!”
Then I lowered my eyes to the foot of the wall, and I jumped! He was there, standing toward the little prince, one of those yellow snakes that kill in thirty seconds. As I rummaged through my pocket to take out my revolver, I took a step, but at the noise I made, the serpent slowly sank into the sand, like a stream of water that dies, pressing, slipping between the stones with a slight metallic sound. I reached the wall just in time to catch my little prince, pale as snow.
“What is that story?” I asked. “You talk now with snakes!”
I had undone his eternal golden cowl. I had wet his temples and made him drink. And now I dared not ask him anything. He looked at me gravely and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his heart beat like that of a bird that dies when it has been shot with a rifle. He said to me, “I’m glad you found what was missing from your machine. You can go home…”
“How do you know!” I had just told him that, against all hope, I had succeeded in my work! He did not answer my question but added, “I too, today, go home…”
Then, melancholy, “It’s much further… it’s much harder…”
I felt that something extraordinary was happening. I held him in my arms like a little child, and yet it seemed to me that he was flowing vertically into an abyss without anything to restrain him.
He had a serious look, lost very far: “I have your sheep. And I have the case for the sheep. And I have the muzzle…” And he smiled with melancholy.
I waited a long time. I felt that it was getting warmer by degrees: “Little fellow, you were afraid…”
He was afraid, of course! But he laughed softly, “I’ll be more afraid tonight…”
Again, I felt cold from the feeling of the irreparable. And I realized that I could not bear the idea of never hearing this laugh again. It was for me like a fountain in the desert.
“Little fellow, I still want to hear you laugh…” But he said to me, “Tonight it will be a year. My star will be just above the place where I fell last year…”
“Little fellow, is it not a bad dream of a snake, a rendezvous, and a star?”
But he did not answer my question. He told me, “What’s important is not seen…”
“Of course…”
“It’s like the flower. If you love a flower that is in a star, it’s sweet, at night, to look at the sky. All the stars are flowers.”
“Of course…”
“It’s like water. The one you gave me to drink was like music, because of the pulley and the rope… you remember… it was good.”
“Of course…”
“You will watch, at night, the stars. It’s too small for me to show you where mine is. It’s better like that. My star, it will be for you one of the stars. So, all the stars, you will love to look at them… They will be all your friends. And then I’ll give you a present…”
He laughed again.
“Ah! Little fellow, little fellow, I like to hear this laughter!”
“It will be my gift… it will be like water…”
“What do you mean?”
“People have stars that are not the same. For some, who travel, the stars are guides. For others, they are nothing but small lights. For others who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman, they were gold. But all these stars are silent. You will have stars like no one has…”
“What do you mean?”
“When you look at the sky at night, since I will live in one of them, since I will laugh in one of them, then it will be for you as if all the stars were laughing.” You will have stars that can laugh!”
And he laughs again.
“And when you are comforted (we always console ourselves) you will be glad to have known me. You will always be my friend. You’ll want to laugh with me. And sometimes you’ll open your window for fun… And your friends will be astonished to see you laughing at the sky. Then you will say to them: ‘Yes, the stars, it always makes me laugh!’ And they will believe you crazy. I’ll have played you a nasty trick…”
And he laughs again.
“It will be as if I had given you, instead of stars, lots of little bells that know how to laugh…”
And he laughs again. Then he became serious again:
“That night… you know… do not come.”
“I will not leave you.”
“I shall look as if I am in pain. I shall look a little like I am dead.” It’s like that. “Do not come and see this, it’s not worth it…”
“I will not leave you.” But he was anxious.
“I tell you that… it’s because of the snake as well. He must not bite you… Snakes are bad. It can bite for fun…”
“I will not leave you.”
But something reassured him, “It’s true they have no more venom for the second bite…”
That night I did not see him set off. He had escaped quietly. When I succeeded in joining him, he walked resolutely, with a rapid step. He only said to me, “Ah! you are the…”
And he took me by the hand. But he was still tormented, “You were wrong. You’ll have trouble. I shall look as if I am dead, and it will not be true.”
I was silent.
“You understand. It is too far. I cannot carry that body. It’s too heavy.” I was silent.
“But it will be like an old abandoned bark. It’s not sad the old bark…” I was silent.
He was discouraged a little. But he made another effort, “It’ll be nice, you know. I too will look at the stars. All the stars will be wells with a rusty pulley. All the stars will pour me to drink…”
I was silent.
“It will be so much fun! You will have five hundred million bells, I will have five hundred million fountains…”
And he was silent too, because he was crying…
“It’s here. Let me step on my own.” And he sat down because he was afraid.
He said, “You know… my flower… I am responsible! And she’s so weak! And she’s so naive. She has four thorns of nothing to protect her from the world…”
I sat down because I could not stand. He said, “That’s it that’s all…”
He hesitated again a little, then he stood up. He took a step. I could not move. There was nothing but a yellow flash near his ankle. He remained motionless for a moment. He did not shout. He fell gently as a tree falls. It did not even make a noise because of the sand.
Woh well ke paas ek purani deewar ki ruine thi. Jab main apne kaam se wapas aaya, to door se dekha ke mera little prince wahaan baithe hue the aur unki pairo ko lamba latka hua tha. Aur main ne suna unki awaaz:
“Tumhe yaad nahi aaya?” unhone kaha. “Yeh yahan nahi hai!” Kisi aur ki awaaz, shayad, jawab deti thi, isliye woh kehte rahe, “Haan! Haan! Yeh din hai, lekin yeh yahan nahi hai…”
Main deewar ki taraf chal raha tha. Main kisi ko nahi dekh paaya ya sun paaya. Phir bhi, little prince ne ek aur baar kaha, “Tumhara zeher achha hai? Tumhe yakeen hai ke tum mujhe zyada der tak takleef nahi doge?” Main ruk gaya, mera dil dhadak raha tha, lekin ab bhi samajh nahi aaya.
“Ab chalo,” unhone kaha, “main phir se niche jana chahta hoon!”
Phir main ne deewar ke paon par nazar daali, aur maine ek jump kiya! Wahan, little prince ki taraf, ek yellow snake thi jo tees second mein maar deti hai. Jab main apni pocket se revolver nikaalne lagi, maine ek kadam aage badhaya, lekin aawaaz sun kar, saanp dheere dheere rait mein doob gaya, paani ki tarah jo marr jata hai, pattharon ke beech me thodi metallic awaaz ke sath phisalta hua. Main deewar tak bus waqt par pahuncha, aur apne little prince ko pakra, jo barf jaisa pale tha.
“Yeh kya kahani hai?” maine poocha. “Tum ab saanpon se baat karte ho!”
Maine uska hamesha sona parda utara. Maine uski maathay ko geela kiya aur usse paani pilaya. Aur ab main kuch poochne ki himmat nahi kar raha tha. Usne mujhe sanjeedagi se dekha aur apne haathon se mujhe lapet liya. Main ne mehsoos kiya ke uska dil ek aise parinda ki tarah dhadak raha tha jo goli lagne par mar jata hai. Usne kaha, “Mujhe khushi hai ke tumne apni machine ke liye jo cheez chahiye thi mil gayi. Tum ghar ja sakte ho…”
“Kaisey pata!” Maine bas abhi bataya tha ke, ummeed ke bawajood, main apne kaam mein kamiyab ho gayi thi! Usne mere sawaal ka jawab nahi diya lekin kaha, “Main bhi, aaj, ghar ja raha hoon…”
Phir, udasi se, “Yeh bohot door hai… yeh bohot mushkil hai…”
Mujhe mehsoos hua ke kuch adbhut ho raha hai. Main usse apne haathon mein pakad raha tha jaise ek chhote bachche ko, aur phir bhi mujhe lagta tha ke woh bina kisi rokawat ke niche gir raha tha.
Uska ek serious nazar tha, bohot door kho gaya: “Mere paas tumhara sheep hai. Aur mere paas sheep ke liye case hai. Aur mere paas muzzle bhi hai…” Aur usne udasi se muskuraya.
Main ne intezar kiya. Mujhe mehsoos hua ke dhire dhire garmi badh rahi hai: “Chhote dost, tumhe dar lag raha tha…”
Woh dar gaya tha, zaroor! Lekin usne dheere se hansi ki, “Mujhe aaj raat zyada dar lagega…”
Ek baar phir, main ne irreparable ke ehsaas se thand mehsoos ki. Aur mujhe samajh aaya ke main is khushi ki hansi ko phir kabhi nahi sunne ka khayal bardasht nahi kar sakti. Yeh mere liye desert mein ek fountain ki tarah tha.
“Chhote dost, main ab bhi tumhe hansi sunna chahti hoon…” Lekin usne kaha, “Aaj raat ek saal ho jayega. Mera sitara wahi par hoga jahan main pichle saal gira tha…”
“Chhote dost, kya yeh ek bura khwab hai saanp, ek milan, aur ek sitara?”
Lekin usne mere sawaal ka jawab nahi diya. Usne kaha, “Jo zaroori hai woh nahi dekha ja sakta…”
“Bilkul…”
“Yeh phool ki tarah hai. Agar tumhe ek phool pasand hai jo ek sitare mein hai, to raat ko aasman dekhna meetha hota hai. Sab sitare phool hain.”
“Bilkul…”
“Yeh paani ki tarah hai. Jo tumne mujhe peene ko diya, woh music ki tarah tha, pulley aur rope ke saath… yaad hai… woh acha tha.”
“Bilkul…”
“Tum raat ko aasman ko dekhoge. Yeh mere liye itna chhota hai ke main tumhe nahi dikha sakta. Yeh behtar hai. Mera sitara tumhare liye ek sitara hoga. Toh, sab sitare tumhe dekhne mein maza aayega… Sab tumhare dost honge. Aur phir main tumhe ek tohfa dunga…”
Usne phir se hansna shuru kiya.
“Ah! Chhote dost, chhote dost, mujhe yeh laughter sunna pasand hai!”
“Yeh mera tohfa hoga… yeh paani ki tarah hoga…”
“Kya matlab?”
“Logon ke sitare alag hote hain. Kuch ke liye, jo safar karte hain, sitare raaste hain. Kuch ke liye, woh sirf chhoti roshniyan hain. Kuch ke liye jo scholars hain, woh problems hain. Mere businessman ke liye, woh sona tha. Lekin yeh sab sitare khamosh hain. Tumhare paas sitare honge jo kisi ke paas nahi hain…”
“Kya matlab?”
“Jab tum raat ko aasman ko dekhoge, kyunki main ek sitare mein rahunga, kyunki main ek sitare mein hansunga, to tumhe aisa lagega ke sab sitare hans rahe hain.” Tumhare paas hansne wale sitare honge!”
Aur usne phir se hansna shuru kiya.
“Aur jab tum tasalli paoge (hum hamesha tasalli karte hain) tum khush hoge ke tumne mujhe jaana. Tum hamesha mere dost rahoge. Tum mere saath hansna chahoge. Aur kabhi kabhi tum apni khidki khologe fun ke liye… Aur tumhare dost hairaan honge jab tum aasman ko hanste hue dekhenge. Phir tum unhe kahoge: ‘Haan, sitare, yeh hamesha mujhe hansate hain!’ Aur woh tumhe paagal samjhenge. Main tumhe ek bura khel khelunga…”
Aur usne phir se hansna shuru kiya.
“Yeh aisa hoga jaise maine tumhe sitaron ke bajaye, bahut saari chhoti ghantiyan di hain jo hansna jaanti hain…”
Aur phir se usne hansna shuru kiya. Phir woh serious ho gaya:
“Us raat… tumhe pata hai… mat aana.”
“Main tumhe nahi chhodungi.”
“Main aisa dikhunga jaise dard mein hoon. Main thoda mar gaya hoon. Yeh aisa hi hai. “Mat aana aur yeh dekhna, yeh worth nahi hai…”
“Main tumhe nahi chhodungi.” Lekin woh pareshan tha.
“Main tumhe keh raha hoon… yeh saanp ki wajah se bhi hai. Usse tumhe nahi kaatna chahiye… Saanp bure hote hain. Woh mazaak ke liye kaat sakte hain…”
“Main tumhe nahi chhodungi.”
Lekin kuch cheez ne usse tasalli di, “Yeh sach hai ke doosre bite ke liye unke paas zeher nahi hota…”
Us raat main ne usse nikalte hue nahi dekha. Usne chupke se bhaag gaya. Jab main usse milne mein kamiyab hui, woh tez chal raha tha, ek jaldi kadam ke sath. Usne bas mujhe kaha, “Ah! Tum ho…”
Aur usne mere haath ko pakad liya. Lekin woh ab bhi pareshan tha, “Tumne galti ki. Tumhe mushkil hogi. Main aisa dikhunga jaise mar gaya hoon, aur yeh sach nahi hoga.”
Main chup rahi.
“Tum samajh gaye. Yeh bohot door hai. Main is jism ko nahi utha sakta. Yeh bohot bhaari hai.” Main chup rahi.
“Lekin yeh ek purani chhadi ki tarah hoga. Purani chhadi sad hai nahi…” Main chup rahi.
Usne thoda discouraged mehsoos kiya. Lekin usne ek aur koshish ki, “Yeh acha hoga, tumhe pata hai. Main bhi sitaron ko dekhunga. Sab sitare purane wells ke saath ek rusty pulley ke tarah honge. Sab sitare mujhe paani denge…”
Main chup rahi.
“Yeh itna maza aayega! Tumhare paas paanch sau million ghantiyan hongi, aur mere paas paanch sau million fountains…”
Aur woh bhi chup ho gaya, kyunki woh ro raha tha…
“Yeh yahan hai. Mujhe apne aap se chale ne do.” Aur woh baitha, kyunki woh dar gaya tha.
Usne kaha, “Tumhe pata hai… mera phool… main zimmedar hoon! Aur woh itni kamzor hai! Aur woh itni nafrat hai. Uske paas duniya se bachane ke liye sirf chaar thorns hain…”
Main baitha, kyunki main khud se na uth sakti. Usne kaha, “Bas, yahi hai…”
Usne thoda aur intezaar kiya, phir woh khada ho gaya. Usne ek kadam uthaya. Main nahi chal sakti thi. Sirf ek yellow flash uske ankle ke paas tha. Woh ek pal ke liye motionless raha. Usne cheekh nahi ki. Woh dheere se gir gaya jaise ek darakht girta hai. Rait ki wajah se koi aawaaz nahi hui.
XXVII
And now, of course, it’s been six years already… I’ve never told this story yet. The comrades who saw me were glad to see me alive again. I was sad but I said to them, “It’s fatigue…”
Now I have comforted myself a little. That is… not quite. But I know that he has returned to his planet, for at daybreak I have not found his body. It was not such a heavy body… And I like the night listening to the stars. It’s like five hundred million bells…
But now something extraordinary happens. The muzzle I designed for the little prince, I forgot to add the leather strap! He could never tie it to the sheep. So I ask myself, “What happened on his planet?” Maybe the sheep ate the flower…
Sometimes I say to myself, “Surely not! The little prince encloses his flower every night under his globe of glass, and he watches his sheep well.” Then I am happy. And all the stars laughed softly.
Sometimes I say to myself, “One is distracted once or the other, and that is enough! He forgot one evening the globe of glass, or else the sheep went out quietly during the night…” Then the bells changed into tears!…
This is a great mystery. For you who love the little prince as well as for me, nothing of the universe is alike if somewhere, one does not know where, a sheep that we do not know has, yes or no, eaten a rose…
Look at the sky. Ask yourself, “Did the sheep or not eat the flower?” And you will see how everything changes…
And no big person will ever understand that it’s so important!
This is, for me, the most beautiful and saddest landscape in the world. It’s the same landscape as the one on the previous page, but I drew it once more to show it to you. It is here that the little prince appeared on earth, then disappeared.
Look carefully at this landscape to be sure of recognizing it, if you travel to Africa one day in the desert. And, if you happen to pass by there, I beseech you, do not hurry, wait a little right under the star! If a child comes to you, if he laughs, if he has golden hair, if he does not answer when asked, you will guess who he is. So be nice! Do not leave me so sad: write to me quickly that he has come back…
Aur ab, jaise ke chhe saal guzar gaye hain… Main ne ab tak yeh kahani nahi sunayi. Jo log mujhe dekhne aaye, unhone mujhe phir se zinda dekh kar khushi mehsoos ki. Main udaas thi lekin maine unse kaha, “Yeh thakan hai…”
Ab main thoda tasalli mehsoos karti hoon. Woh hai… puri tarah se nahi. Lekin mujhe pata hai ke woh apne planet par wapas chala gaya hai, kyunki subah ke waqt maine uska jism nahi paya. Yeh itna bhaari jism nahi tha… Aur raat ko sitaron ko sunna mujhe pasand hai. Yeh paanch sau million ghantiyon ki tarah hai…
Lekin ab kuch adbhut ho raha hai. Woh muzzle jo maine little prince ke liye design kiya tha, maine usme leather strap add karna bhool gayi! Woh apne sheep ko isse nahi band kar sakta. Toh main sochti hoon, “Uske planet par kya hua?” Shayad sheep ne phool kha liya…
Kabhi kabhi main kehti hoon, “Zaroor nahi! Little prince apne phool ko har raat apne glass globe ke neeche rakhta hai, aur woh apne sheep ko achhe se dekh raha hota hai.” Tab mujhe khushi hoti hai. Aur sab sitare dheere dheere hans rahe hote hain.
Kabhi kabhi main sochti hoon, “Ek baar ya do baar distraction ho jati hai, aur yeh kafi hai! Shayad usne ek shaam glass globe bhool gaya, ya phir sheep raat ko chupke se bahar chali gayi…” Tab ghantiyan aansuon mein tabdeel ho jati hain!…
Yeh ek bada raaz hai. Tumhare liye jo little prince ko pyaar karte hain jaise main karti hoon, universe ka koi bhi cheez waisa nahi hai agar kahin, jahan nahi pata, ek sheep jo hum nahi jante, ne, haan ya nahi, ek rose kha liya…
Aasman ko dekho. Khud se poochho, “Kya sheep ne phool kha liya ya nahi?” Aur tum dekho ke sab kuch kaise badal jata hai…
Aur koi bhi bada insaan yeh nahi samajh paayega ke yeh itna zaroori hai!
Yeh, mere liye, duniya ka sabse khubsurat aur udasi bhara manzar hai. Yeh wahi landscape hai jo pehle page par tha, lekin maine ise ek baar phir se banaya hai tumhe dikhane ke liye. Yeh wahi jagah hai jahan little prince dharti par aaya, aur phir gaib ho gaya.
Is landscape ko dhyan se dekho taake tum ise pehchaan sako, agar kabhi tum Africa ke desert mein travel karo. Aur, agar tum wahan se guzar jao, to main tumse guzarishti hoon, jaldi mat chalo, thoda ruk jao ek sitare ke neeche! Agar ek bachcha tumse milta hai, agar woh hans raha hai, agar uske sunehare baalon hain, agar woh jawab nahi deta jab poocha jaye, tum jaan jaoge ke woh kaun hai. Toh achha rehna! Mujhe udasi se mat chhodo: jaldi se likho ke woh wapas aa gaya hai…
“The most beautiful things in life are not seen with the eyes but felt with the heart. It’s the love we give and receive, the connections we cherish, and the moments we treasure that truly make life meaningful. Just as the little prince learned that his rose was special because he cared for it, we too find the greatest joy in the relationships and simple joys that fill our lives with love and warmth.”
“Zindagi ki sab se khoobsurat cheezain aankhon se nahi, balki dil se mehsoos ki jaati hain. Woh pyaar jo hum dete hain aur lete hain, woh rishtay jo hum pyar se sambhalte hain, aur woh pal jo hum pyaar se yaad rakhte hain, wahi zindagi ko asal mein khubsoorat banate hain. Jaise chhote shehzada ne seekha ke uski gulab khaas hai kyunki usne uski dekhbhal ki.
THE END. 💜
