The Little Prince

One day when I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture

in a nature book about the primeval forest.

It was a picture of a boa constrictor swallowing an animal.

I'm trying to make a sketch of it to show you.

Under this picture it said:

"Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole without chewing it."

There!

"And then remain stationary for six months digesting it."

I pondered that deeply.

And after some work, I succeeded in making my first drawing.

I called it Drawing Number One.

I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups.

I asked them if it frightened them.

Frighten us? Why should we be frightened of a hat?

A hat?

It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant, obviously.

Since the grown-ups couldn't understand it, I made another,

showing the elephant clearly inside the boa constrictor.

My Drawing Number Two.

I was told to stop wasting my time drawing boa constrictors,

whether from the inside or the outside, and attend to my studies, which I did.

And that is why, at the age of six, I gave up a career as a painter.

As I grew up, whenever I met one who seemed clear-sighted,

to find out if he was a person of true understanding,

I would show him my first drawing.

- Whoever it was would say, - It's a hat, it's a sort of a kind of hat,

Painted poorly but it surely is a hat

It's a hat, there's no doubt of it It's a hat

Top of Poppa is his proper habitat

My, oh, my, look at that, Why, this dummy has drawn a hat

It's a hat, it's a hat If it's anything, it's a hat

Why, it's nothing but a common Himalayan mountain hat!

It's a hat that looks like down upon which someone must have sat

Not Picasso or Corot, But a very nice chapeau

Are you kidding? It's a hat, you silly brat!

Every grown-up was the same Uniformly they'd exclaim

It's a hat, it's a hat, It's a hat!

I could see it wasn't worth Spending time with them on earth

There were fewer in the sky I decided I would fly

It's a hat, it's a hat It's a hat, it's a hat

It's a hat, it's a hat, it's a hat

I need air

Where only stars get in my hair

And only eagles stop and stare

I need air

Oh, the world is mad And I have had my share

I need air

I need air

I need air

One hour of mortal wear and tear

Gives my morale morale-de-mer

Any corner lot that heaven's got to spare

I need air

I need air

There's not a sign of life down there

Just hats and grown-ups everywhere

I need air

Lots of cosy sky that God and I can share

I need air

I need air

I came to know many grown-ups,

and my opinion of them never improved.

I stopped showing my drawing and never again mentioned boa constrictors,

elephants or stars.

Instead, I would talk about golf, money, politics and neckties,

and everyone was pleased with such a sensible man.

So, I lived my life alone without anyone I could really talk to.

Until a short time ago.

I was testing a new plane, racing it against the clock from Paris to India.

Paris calling Flight F-BDXY.

Come in, please. Over.

F-BDXY to Paris. Ground speed 190.

Running 10 minutes behind schedule. Strong headwinds.

Trouble!

Losing altitude!

Paris calling Flight F-BDXY. Detail location.

Detail location. Detail location.

Paris calling Flight F-BDXY.

Are you there, F-BDXY? Where are you?

If you please, draw me a sheep.

Will you?

- Will I what? - Will you draw me a sheep?

What...?

What did you...?

How did you...?

How did you get here? What are you doing here?

Waiting for you to draw me a sheep.

No, listen. Where did you come from?

Will you draw me a sheep?

Don't you know any other words?

Is that all you can say?

No.

Will you draw me a sheep?

When a mystery is too overpowering, one doesn't dare disobey.

A thousand miles from civilisation and death at my heels,

I picked up a pad and pencil and began to draw.

- Look, I don't know how to draw. - That doesn't matter.

I certainly can't draw a sheep.

I've only drawn one thing in my whole life.

Here.

Oh, no. I don't want an elephant inside a boa constrictor.

A boa constrictor is very dangerous, and an elephant is very cumbersome.

Where I live, everything is very small.

What I need is a sheep.

Do you live in a small town? On a small island?

Where is it very small?

- What sort of object is that? - What?

That.

It's called an aeroplane. It flies. I was flying in it, but it broke down.

You must have dropped from the sky.

That's right.

You, too. How funny!

If you don't mind, I prefer having my misfortunes taken seriously.

- What do you mean, "You, too"? - That's a sick-looking sheep.

Did you get here in a plane that crashed?

- Could you make another? - Why?

Because that one doesn't look well.

This is really not the way two strangers get to know each other in the desert.

This is the way: Ask me a question.

- Where do you come from? - Good!

To which I reply, "I come from Paris."

Now, I'll ask you, "Where do you come from?"

Is Paris on this planet?

Well, of course it's on this planet!

- I'm sorry, it won't do. - Why not?

See for yourself. That's not a sheep. It's a ram. It has horns.

You think this is all I have to do?

I have this engine to fix before my water runs out,

and I have no time to draw sheep for a little boy carrying a sword,

who appears from nowhere in the middle of the Sahara Desert.

There.

And that's the last.

There's no horns.

No.

It's not sick.

No.

- Well, then? - It's old.

I'm sorry.

It's only his box.

The sheep you asked for is inside.

That's perfect. Exactly the way I wanted it.

It is?

Good.

- Will the sheep need a lot of grass? - Why?

I told you. Where I come from everything is very small.

Don't worry. It's a very small sheep.

This sheep isn't so small.

Alas, I couldn't argue with him.

I'd grown too old to see sheep through the walls of boxes.

- "Is Paris on this planet?" - Of course it is. Did you forget?

No, I didn't forget. But why did you ask?

Aren't you from this planet?

What's good about this box is at night he can use it as his house.

Sh! He's just going to sleep.

Oh. Sorry.

- Good morning. - Good morning.

Where in God's name could you have come from?

Up there.

- Do you know what asteroids are? - What what are?

- Asteroids. - No.

They're very, very small planets.

The smallest, Asteroid B-612,

was discovered by a Turkish astronomer in 1909.

I think you may live on Asteroid B-612.

What do you think?

I think you may live on Asteroid B-612.

What do you think?

Does that mean they also eat baobab bushes?

- Hm? Who? - The sheep.

Do they also eat flowers?

- Do they? - Just hold it a minute.

- Do they also eat flowers? - What?

Oh. Yes, they do.

Except the flowers that have thorns, of course.

- No, they even eat ones with thorns. - But the thorns protect them.

Maybe from being picked, not from being eaten.

Then what's the good of having them?

- Having what? - Thorns!

I don't know! Spite, I suppose. Flowers have thorns just for spite.

I don't believe you.

Flowers are weak and helpless.

How could they face the world without believing in their thorns' protection?

- What I'm trying to do is important. - Important?

Flowers have grown thorns for millions of years.

And for millions of years, sheep have eaten them just the same!

- You think that's not important? - It is.

I know one flower that's unique in all the world. It's on my planet.

But some morning, a sheep can destroy it with one bite.

- And you think that's not important? - I suppose so.

What you don't understand is that if someone loves one flower

that grows on one star among all the millions of stars in the sky,

it makes him happy to look at the stars.

He can say to himself, "Somewhere my flower's up there."

But if the sheep eats the flower, all the stars will go dark.

And you think that's not important?

It's not a matter of consequence to you, is it?

Wait!

Wait! Come back!

I most humbly apologise!

I was behaving like a grown-up!