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我之所以向你们小读者讲了关于"B612号小行星" 的以上细节，并指出其编号，完全是为了成年人。成年人喜欢数目字。当你跟他们说起一位新朋友的时候，他们从来不问你最本质的特征。比方说，他们从来不问： "他的嗓音怎么样？他爱玩什么游戏？他是不是爱搜集蝴蝶标本？”他们只问你："他多少岁数？他有几个兄弟？他的父亲挣多少钱？”问清楚这些问题，他们就以为了解这个人了。你如果对成年人说："我看见了一幢漂亮的红砖小房子，窗上爬满了天竺葵，屋顶上停憩着鸽子……”他们是想象不出这房子是什么模样的。但是，如果对他们说："我看见了一幢值十万法郎的房子。"他们就会高声嚷嚷："那是多么漂亮啊！” 因此，如果你对成年人说："的的确确有过一位小王子，他很招人喜欢，他老咯咯发笑，他还向人要过一只绵羊。既然要过一只绵羊，那就证明这个小王子确有其人。"他们听了会耸耸肩膀，把你当做一个小孩看待！但是，如果你对成年人说："小王子来自另一个星球，就是B612号小行星。”那他们就信服了，就不会没完没了用他们那些问题来烦你了。成年人总是这副样子。不能强求他们变成另一个样子。小孩应当对大人尽量宽容一些。 当然啦，我们这些真正理解生活的人，才不会去在乎数目字哩！我多愿意像讲神话故事那样去讲小王子的故事，多愿意这么来讲："从前，有一个小王子，他住的那颗星球比他本人大不了多少，他需要找一个朋友……”对于那些理解生活的人来说，这种讲法就显得真实自然得多。 因为我不喜欢人家并不严肃认真地来读我写的书。我讲述以上这些回忆时，是颇感忧伤的。我那位小朋友和他的绵羊一道离去已经有六个年头了。我试着在这里描述他，是为了不忘记他。忘记一个朋友是很可悲的事。很多很多人从来就没有一个朋友。何况我也可能变得和那些成年人一模一样，只对数目字感兴趣。正是为了不忘却他，我才买了一盒水彩与几支铅笔。到了我现在这个岁数，要重新拾起绘画是很难很难的，特别是我只在小小六岁的时候画过一条蟒蛇的整体图与剖面图，此外就从没有试过画点别的什么！当然啰， 我会尽最大的努力画好我那位小朋友。但能否做得到，我是没有多大把握的。这一幅画得还可以，另一幅画得就不像了。在画他的身材高矮时，我也常常出错。这一幅把他画得太高大，那一幅又画得太矮小。至于他衣服的颜色，我常犹豫不决。于是，我就这么试试，那么试试，勉勉强强，凑凑合合。最后，在某些重要的细节上，我也常常弄错。对此，大家应该原谅我。我那位小朋友从来不给我解释这解释那，他也许以为，我和他同源同种，非常相像。但是，我跟他其实不同， 我又不能透视万物，如像透过箱子看到里面那只绵羊。也许，我有点像那些成年人了。我一定是老啰。 If I have told you these details about the asteroid, and made a note of its number for you, it is on account of the grown-ups and their ways. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you: "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him. If you were to say to the grown-ups: "I saw a beautiful house made of rosy brick, with geraniums in the windows and doves on the roof," they would not be able to get any idea of that house at all. You would have to say to them: "I saw a house that cost $20,000." Then they would exclaim: "Oh, what a pretty house that is!" Just so, you might say to them: "The proof that the little prince existed is that he was charming, that he laughed, and that he was looking for a sheep. If anybody wants a sheep, that is a proof that he exists." And what good would it do to tell them that? They would shrug their shoulders, and treat you like a child. But if you said to them: "The planet he came from is Asteroid B-612," then they would be convinced, and leave you in peace from their questions. They are like that. One must not hold it against them. Children should always show great forbearance toward grown-up people. But certainly, for us who understand life, figures are a matter of indifference. I should have liked to begin this story in the fashion of the fairy-tales. I should have like to say: "Once upon a time there was a little prince who lived on a planet that was scarcely any bigger than himself, and who had need of a sheep..." To those who understand life, that would have given a much greater air of truth to my story. For I do not want anyone to read my book carelessly. I have suffered too much grief in setting down these memories. Six years have already passed since my friend went away from me, with his sheep. If I try to describe him here, it is to make sure that I shall not forget him. To forget a friend is sad. Not every one has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown-ups who are no longer interested in anything but figures... It is for that purpose, again, that I have bought a box of paints and some pencils. It is hard to take up drawing again at my age, when 1 have never made any pictures except those of the boa constrictor from the outside and the boa constrictor from the inside, since I was six. I shall certainly try to make my portraits as true to life as possible. But I am not at all sure of success. One drawing goes along all right, and another has no resemblance to its subject. I make some errors, too, in the little prince's height: in one place he is too tall and in another too short. And I feel some doubts about the color of his costume. So I fumble along as best I can, not good, not bad, and I hope generally fair-to-middling. In certain more important details I shall make mistakes, also. But that is something that will not be my fault. My friend never explained anything to me. He thought, perhaps, that I was like himself. But I, alas, do not know how to see sheep through the walls of boxes. Perhaps I am a little like the grown-ups. I have had to grow old. |
