Written and Illustrated by
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Translated from the French by Erik Kõvamees
Le Petit Prince, first published in 1943 Written and illustrated by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry Translation: © Rahva Raamat AS and Erik Kõvamees, 2019 Editor: Aire Arge Cover design: Gerda Märtens Layout: Heiko Unt Publisher: Dea Oidekivi Printed and bound in EU, Estonia by Print Best Printing Company ISBN 978-9949-6931-9-1 www.rahvaraamat.ee
TO LEON WERTH I ask for the forgiveness of children for dedicating this book to a grown-up. I have a serious excuse: this grown-up is the best friend that I have in the world. I have another excuse: this grownup can understand everything, even books for children. I have a third excuse: this grown-up lives in France, where he is hungry and cold. He is in dire need of being comforted. If all of these excuses are not enough, then I would very much like to dedicate this book to the child whom this grown-up used to be. All grown-ups were at first children. (Although few amongst them remember it). I therefore correct my dedication:
TO LEON WERTH WHEN HE WAS A LITTLE BOY
CHAPTER I
W
hen I was six years old I once saw a magnificent image, in a book on the primeval forest called True Stories. It depicted a boa snake who was swallowing a wild beast. Here is the drawing as it has been copied.
It said in the book: “Boa snakes swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. Afterwards they are no longer able to move, and they sleep during the six months that they need for digestion.”
—9—
I thereafter reflected a lot on the adventures of the jungle and, in turn, I succeeded, with a coloured pencil, in sketching my first drawing. My Drawing Number One. It was like this:
I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups, and I asked them if my drawing scared them. They answered me: “Why would a hat scare us?” My drawing did not depict a hat. It depicted a boa snake who was digesting an elephant. I thereafter drew the inside of the boa snake, so that the grown-ups could understand. They always need explanations. My Drawing Number Two was like this:
The grown-ups advised me to set aside drawings of boa snakes, whether from the inside or from the outside, and to instead take interest in geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. — 10 —
Thus, that is why, at the age of six, I abandoned a magnificent career as a painter. I had been discouraged by the failure of my Drawing Number One and my Drawing Number Two. The grownups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiring for children to forever and ever have to give them explanations. I therefore had to choose another profession, and I learned to pilot airplanes. I have flown a little bit everywhere in the world. And geography, it is true, has served me a lot. I know how to tell China from Arizona at first glance. This is very useful if you have lost your way during the night. Thus I had, over the course of my life, lots of contact with lots of serious people. I have lived a lot with grown-ups. I have seen them from very close up. That has not much improved my opinion of them. Whenever I encountered one who seemed to me slightly clear-minded, I did an experiment on them with my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I wanted to know if they were truly understanding. But they would always answer me: “That is a hat.” So I did not speak to them of boa snakes, or of primeval forests, or of stars. I would put myself at their level. I would speak to them of bridge, of golf, of politics, and of neckties. And this grown-up would be very pleased to know such a reasonable man. — 11 —
CHAPTER XXI
T
hat was when the fox appeared. “Hello,” said the fox. “Hello,” the little prince answered politely, and turned around but saw nothing. “I am here,” said the voice, “under the apple tree.” “Who are you?” said the little prince. “You are very lovely…” “I am a fox,” said the fox. “Come play with me,” the little prince proposed to him. “I am so sad…” “I cannot play with you,” said the fox. “I am not tamed.” “Ah! Sorry,” stated the little prince. — 81 —
But, after some thought, he added: “What does it mean, ‘tamed’?” “You are not from here,” said the fox, “what are you looking for?” “I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does it mean, ‘tamed’?” “Men,” said the fox, “they have guns and they hunt. It is very hindering! They also raise chickens. That is their only interest. Are you searching for chickens?” “No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does it mean, ‘tamed’?” “It is a thing too often forgotten,” said the fox. “It means ‘to create ties’…” “To create ties?” “Of course,” said the fox. “You are, as of yet, nothing to me but a little boy all too similar to a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no use for you. And you have no use for me, either. I am to you but a fox, similar to one hundred thousand other foxes. But, if you tame me, we will be in need of each other. In the world, you will be unique to me. In the world, I will be unique to you…” “I am starting to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower… I believe that she has tamed me…” “It is possible,” said the fox. “On Earth, we see all sorts of things…” “Oh! This is not on Earth,” said the little prince. — 82 —
The fox seemed very intrigued: “On another planet?” “Yes.”
“Are there hunters, on this planet?” “No.” “That, that is interesting! And chickens?” “No.” “Nothing is perfect,” sighed the fox. But the fox returned to his idea: “My life is monotonous. I hunt chickens, men hunt me. All chickens are alike, and all men are alike. I am therefore a little bored. But, if you tame me, it will be as if my life is sunny. I would know a sound of steps which would be different from all of the others. The others would make me return underground. You would call me outside of the burrow, like a musician. And then look! — 83 —
You see, over there, that field of wheat? I do not eat bread. Wheat is useless for me. Fields of wheat remind me of nothing. And that, that is sad! But you have hair the colour of gold. So it will be marvellous once you have tamed me! The wheat, which is gilded, will remind me of you. And I will love the sound of the wind in the wheat…” The fox became silent and looked at the little prince for a long time: “Please… tame me!” he said. “I would very much like to,” answered the little prince, “but I do not have a lot of time. I have friends to discover and lots of things to get to know.” “We only know the things that we tame,” said the fox. “Men do not have the time anymore to get to know anything. They buy premade things from the merchants. But since you cannot buy friends from merchants, men no longer have friends. If you would like a friend, tame me!” “What must I do?” said the little prince. “You must be very patient,” answered the fox. “You will at first sit yourself down a little ways away from me, like that, in the grass. I will look at you from the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Language is the source of misunderstandings. But, each day, you could sit yourself down a little bit closer…” The next day, the little prince returned. — 84 —
“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, from three o’clock onwards I will begin to be happy. The more the hour advances, the more I will feel happy. At four o’clock, already, I will be agitated and worried; I will have discovered the price of happiness! But if you come whenever, I will never know at which hour to prepare my heart… There needs to be rites.”
“What is a rite?” asked the little prince. “It is also something too often forgotten,” said the fox. “It is what makes one day different from the other days, one hour from the other hours. — 85 —
There is a rite, for example, amongst my hunters. They dance on Thursdays with the girls of the village. So Thursday is a marvellous day! I go walk, right up to the vineyard. If the hunters danced whenever, all the days would look the same, and I would never have a holiday.” Thus the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of departure was near: “Ah!” said the fox. “I will cry.” “That is your fault,” said the little prince, “I did not wish you harm, but you wanted me to tame you…” “Of course,” said the fox. “But you will cry!” said the little prince. “Of course,” said the fox. “So you gain nothing!” “I gain something,” said the fox, “because of the colour of the wheat…” Then he added: “Go see the roses again. You will understand that yours is the most unique in the world. You will return to say goodbye to me, and I will gift you a secret.” The little prince went to see the roses again. “You are not at all like my rose, you are nothing yet,” he told them. “No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox was. It was nothing but a fox like one hundred thousand others. But I made of him my friend, and he is now unique in the world.” — 86 —
And the roses were very embarrassed. “You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he told them again. “You cannot be died for. Of course, my own rose, an ordinary passerby would believe alike to you. But she and only she is more important than you all, because she is the one that I watered. Because she is the one that I put under the globe. Because she is the one that I sheltered with the screen. Because she is the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except for the two or three meant to become butterflies). Because she is the one whom I listened to complaining, or boasting, or even sometimes becoming silent. Because she is my rose.” And he returned to the fox: “Goodbye,” he said… “Goodbye,” said the fox. “Here is my secret. It is very simple: we do not see well except with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eyes.” “The essential is invisible to the eyes,” the little prince repeated, to remember. “It is the time that you spent on your rose that makes your rose so important.” “It is the time that I spent on my rose…” stated the little prince, 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 are responsible for your rose…” “I am responsible for my rose…” the little prince repeated, to remember. — 87 —