英文小說連載《小王子》No.7小王子的玫瑰花

　　On the fifth day-- again， as always， it was thanks to the sheep-- the secret of the little prince's life was revealed to me. Abruptly， without anything to lead up to it， and as if the question had been born of long and silent meditation on his problem， he demanded：

　　"A sheep-- if it eats little bushes， does it eat flowers， too？"

　　"A sheep，" I answered， "eats anything it finds in its reach."

　　"Even flowers that have thorns？"

　　"Yes， even flowers that have thorns."

　　"Then the thorns-- what use are they？"

　　I did not know. At that moment I was very busy trying to unscrew a bolt that had got stuck in my engine. I was very much worried， for it was becoming clear to me that the breakdown of my plane was extremely serious. And I had so little drinking-water left that I had to fear for the worst.

　　"The thorns-- what use are they？"

　　The little prince never let go of a question， once he had asked it. 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！"

　　"Oh！"

　　There was a moment of complete silence. Then the little prince flashed back at me， with a kind of resentfulness：

　　"I don't believe you！ Flowers are weak creatures. They are na飗e. They reassure themselves as best they can. 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！"

　　He stared at me， thunderstruck.

　　"Matters of consequence！"

　　He looked at me there， with my hammer in my hand， my fingers black with engine-grease， bending down over an object which seemed to him extremely ugly...

　　"You talk just like the grown-ups！"

　　That made me a little ashamed. But he went on， relentlessly：

　　"You mix everything up together... You confuse everything..."

　　He was really very angry. He tossed his golden curls in the breeze.

　　"I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over， just like you： 'I am busy with matters of consequence！' And that makes him swell up with pride. 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 been growing thorns for millions of years. For millions of years the sheep have been eating them just the same. And is it not a matter of consequence to try to understand why the flowers go to so much trouble to grow thorns which are never of any use to them？ Is the warfare between the sheep and the flowers not important？ Is this not of more consequence 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 in a single bite some morning， without even noticing what he is doing-- Oh！ You think that is not important！"

　　His face turned from white to red as he continued：

　　"If some one loves a flower， of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars， 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 will be darkened... And you think that is not important！"

　　He could not say anything more. His words were choked by sobbing.

　　The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer， my bolt， or thirst， or death？ On one star， one planet， my planet， the Earth， there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms， and rocked him. I said to him：

　　"The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will--"

　　I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him， where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.

　　It is such a secret place， the land of tears.

　　第五天，還是羊的事，把小王子的生活秘密向我揭開了。好象默默地思索了很長時間以后，得出了什么結(jié)果一樣，他突然沒頭沒腦地問我：

　　“羊，要是吃小灌木，它也要吃花羅？”

　　“它碰到什么吃什么。”

　　“連有刺的花也吃嗎？”

　　“有刺的也吃！”

　　“那么刺有什么用呢？”

　　我不知道該怎么回答。那會兒我正忙著要從發(fā)動機上卸下一顆擰得太緊的螺絲。我發(fā)現(xiàn)機器故障似乎很嚴重，飲水也快完了，擔心可能發(fā)生最壞的情況，心里很著急。

　　“那么刺有什么用呢？”

　　小王子一旦提出了問題，從來不會放過。這個該死的螺絲使我很惱火，我于是就隨便回答了他一句：

　　“刺么，什么用都沒有，這純粹是花的惡劣表現(xiàn)。”

　　“噢！”

　　可是他沉默了一會兒之后，懷著不滿的心情沖我說：

　　“我不信！花是弱小的、淳樸的，它們總是設(shè)法保護自己，以為有了刺就可以顯出自己的厲害…”

　　我默不作聲。我當時想的，如果這個螺絲再和我作對，我就一錘子敲掉它。小王子又來打攪我的思緒了：

　　“你卻認為花…”

　　“算了吧，算了吧！我什么也不認為！我是隨便回答你的。我可有正經(jīng)事要做。”

　　他驚訝地看著我。

　　“正經(jīng)事？”

　　他瞅著我手拿錘子，手指沾滿了油污，伏在一個在他看來丑不可言的機件上。

　　“你說話就和那些大人一樣！”

　　這話使我有點難堪�？墒撬�又尖刻無情地說道：

　　“你什么都分不清…你把什么都混在一起！”

　　他著實非常惱火。搖動著腦袋，金黃色的頭發(fā)隨風顫動著。

　　“我到過一個星球，上面住著一個紅臉先生。他從來沒聞過一朵花。他從來沒有看過一顆星星。他什么人也沒有喜歡過。除了算帳以外，他什么也沒有做過。他整天同你一樣老是說：‘我有正經(jīng)事，我是個嚴肅的人’。這使他傲氣十足。他簡直不象是個人，他是個蘑菇。”

　　“是個什么？”

　　“是個蘑菇！”

　　小王子當時氣得臉色發(fā)白。

　　“幾百萬年以來花兒都在制造著刺，幾百萬年以來羊仍然在吃花。要搞清楚為什么花兒費那么大勁給自己制造沒有什么用的刺，這難道不是正經(jīng)事？難道羊和花之間的戰(zhàn)爭不重要？這難道不比那個大胖子紅臉先生的帳目更重要？如果我認識一朵人世間唯一的花，只有我的星球上有它，別的地方都不存在，而一只小羊胡里胡涂就這樣把它一下子毀掉了，這難道不重要？”

　　他的臉氣得發(fā)紅，然后又接著說道：

　　“如果有人愛上了在這億萬顆星星中獨一無二的一株花，當他看著這些星星的時候，這就足以使他感到幸福。他可以自言自語地說：‘我的那朵花就在其中的一顆星星上…’，但是如果羊吃掉了這朵花，對他來說，好象所有的星星一下子全都熄滅了一樣！這難道也不重要嗎？！”

　　他無法再說下去了，突然泣不成聲。夜幕已經(jīng)降臨。我放下手中的工具。我把錘子、螺釘、饑渴、死亡，全都拋在腦后。在一顆星球上，在一顆行星上，在我的行星上，在地球上有一個小王子需要安慰！我把他抱在懷里。我搖著他，對他說：“你愛的那朵花沒有危險…我給你的小羊畫一個罩子…我給你的花畫一副盔甲…我…”我也不太知道該說些什么。我覺得自己太笨拙。我不知道怎樣才能達到他的境界，怎樣才能再進入他的境界…唉，淚水的世界是多么神秘��！