on the planet where the little prince lived there were—as on all planets—good plants and bad plants. So there were good seeds from good plants, and bad seeds from bad plants. But the seeds were invisible. They sleep deep in the heart of the earth’s darkness, until a little seed desires to wake. Then this little seed will stretch itself and begin—timidly at first—to push a little sprig upward toward the sun. If it is only a sprout of radish or the sprig of a rose-bush, let it grow. But when it is a bad plant, one must destroy it as soon as possible[10].
Now there were some terrible seeds on the planet that was the home of the little prince; and these were the seeds of the baobab. The soil of that planet was infested with them. A baobab is something you will never, never be able to get rid of[11] if you see it too late. It spreads over the entire planet. And if the planet is too small, and the baobabs are too many, they split it in pieces.
“It is a question of discipline,” the little prince said to me. “When you finish your own toilet in the morning, then it is time to attend to the toilet of your planet, just so, with the greatest care. You must check all the baobabs regularly. It is very tedious work,” the little prince added, “but very easy.”
And one day he said to me: “You must make a beautiful drawing. The children where you live must see exactly how all this is. That will be very useful to them. Baobabs always mean a catastrophe. I knew a planet, a lazy man lived there. He neglected three little bushes.”
So the little prince described it to me. And I made a drawing of that planet. I do not want to be a moralist, but very few people understand the danger of the baobabs. So, children—watch out for the baobabs![12]
6
Oh, little prince! I understand the secrets of your sad little life. For a long time your only entertainment was looking at the sunset. I learned that new detail on the morning of the fourth day, when you said to me:
“I am very fond[13] of sunsets. Come, let us go look at a sunset now.”
“But we must wait,” I said.
“Wait? For what?”
“For the sunset. We must wait until it is time.”
At first you were very much surprised. And then you laughed to yourself. You said to me:
“I always think that I am at home!”
Just so. Everybody knows that when it is noon in the United States the sun is setting over France.
If you fly to France in one minute, you will go straight into the sunset, right from noon. Unfortunately, France is too far away for that. But on your tiny planet, my little prince, you can just move your chair a few steps. You can see the day end and the twilight whenever you like.
“One day,” you said to me, “I saw the sunset forty-four times!”
And later you added:
“You know—one loves the sunset, when one is so sad.”
“Were you so sad, then?” I asked, “On the day of the forty-four sunsets?”
But the little prince made no reply.
7
On the fifth day—again, as always, thanks to the sheep—the secret of the little prince’s life was revealed to me. Abruptly he demanded:
“A sheep—if it eats little bushes, does it eat flowers, too?”
“A sheep,” I answered, “eats anything.”
“Even flowers that have thorns?”
“Yes, even flowers that have thorns.”
“Then the thorns—what use are they?[14]”
I did not know. At that moment I was very busy: I was trying to unscrew a bolt in my engine. I was very much worried; the breakdown of my plane was extremely serious. And I had so little drinking water.
“The thorns—what use are they?” The little prince insisted. As for me, I was upset over that bolt. And I answered with the first thing that came into my head:
“The thorns are of no use at all. Flowers have thorns just for spite![15]”
“Oh!”
There was a moment of complete silence. Then the little prince said:
“I don’t believe you! Flowers are weak creatures. They are naive. They believe that their thorns are terrible weapons.”
I did not answer. At that instant I was saying to myself: “If this bolt still won’t turn, I am going to knock it out with the hammer.” Again the little prince disturbed my thoughts:
“And you actually believe that the flowers—”
“Oh, no!” I cried. “No, no, no! I don’t believe anything. I answered you with the first thing that came into my head. Don’t you see—I am very busy with matters of consequence[16]!”
He looked at me, thunderstruck.
“Matters of consequence!”
He looked at me there, with my hammer in my hand, my fingers black with engine-grease.
“You talk just like the grown-ups!”
I was a little ashamed. But he went on, relentlessly:
“I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He never smelled a flower. He never looked at a star. He never loved anyone. He never does anything in his life, he just adds up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you: ‘I am busy with matters of consequence!’ And he is very proud. But he is not a man—he is a mushroom!”
“A what?”
“A mushroom!”
The little prince was now white with rage.
“The flowers have thorns. It lasts for million years. And they eat them all the time. And is it not a matter of consequence to try to understand why the flowers have so much trouble to grow thorns which are never of any use to them? Is the war between the sheep and the flowers not important? Is this not more important than a fat red-faced gentleman’s sums? And if I know—I, myself—one flower which is unique in the world, which grows nowhere but on my planet, but which one little sheep can destroy some morning—Oh! You think that is not important!”
His face turned from white to red. He continued:
“If someone loves a flower, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. He can say to himself, ‘Somewhere, my flower is there.’ But if the sheep eats the flower, in one moment all his stars
as soon as possible – как можно скорее
to get rid of – избавиться
watch out for the baobabs! – берегитесь баобабов!
I am very fond – я очень люблю
what use are they? – какая от них польза?
just for spite – просто от злости
matters of consequence – серьёзное дело
