English
finding a well, the narrator and the little prince discuss his return to his planet
“Men,” said the little prince, “set out on their way in express trains, but they do not know what they are looking for. Then they rush about, and get excited, and turn round and round…”
And he added:
“It is not worth the trouble…”
The well that we had come to was not like the wells of the Sahara. The wells of the Sahara are mere holes dug in the sand. This one was like a well in a village. But there was no village here, and I thought I must be dreaming…
“It is strange,” I said to the little prince. “Everything is ready for use: the pulley, the bucket, the rope…”
He laughed, touched the rope, and set the pulley to working. And the pulley moaned, like an old weathervane which the wind has long since forgotten.
“Do you hear?” said the little prince. “We have wakened the well, and it is singing…”
I did not want him to tire himself with the rope.
“Leave it to me,” I said. “It is too heavy for you.”
I hoisted the bucket slowly to the edge of the well and set it there– happy, tired as I was, over my achievement. The song of the pulley was still in my ears, and I could see the sunlight shimmer in the still trembling water.
“I am thirsty for this water,” said the little prince. “Give me some of it to drink…”
And I understood what he had been looking for.
I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present. When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up, so, the radiance of the gifts I received.
“The men where you live,” said the little prince, “raise five thousand roses in the same garden– and they do not find in it what they are looking for.”
“They do not find it,” I replied.
“And yet what they are looking for could be found in one single rose, or in a little water.”
“Yes, that is true,” I said.
And the little prince added:
“But the eyes are blind. One must look with the heart…”
I had drunk the water. I breathed easily. At sunrise the sand is the color of honey. And that honey color was making me happy, too. What brought me, then, this sense of grief?
“You must keep your promise,” said the little prince, softly, as he sat down beside me once more.
“What promise?”
“You know– a muzzle for my sheep… I am responsible for this flower…”
I took my rough drafts of drawings out of my pocket. The little prince looked them over, and laughed as he said:
“Your baobabs– they look a little like cabbages.”
“Oh!”
I had been so proud of my baobabs!
“Your fox– his ears look a little like horns; and they are too long.”
And he laughed again.
“You are not fair, little prince,” I said. “I don’t know how to draw anything except boa constrictors from the outside and boa constrictors from the inside.”
“Oh, that will be all right,” he said, “children understand.”
So then I made a pencil sketch of a muzzle. And as I gave it to him my heart was torn.
“You have plans that I do not know about,” I said.
But he did not answer me. He said to me, instead:
“You know– my descent to the earth… Tomorrow will be its anniversary.”
Then, after a silence, he went on:
“I came down very near here.”
And he flushed.
And once again, without understanding why, I had a queer sense of sorrow. One question, however, occurred to me:
“Then it was not by chance that on the morning when I first met you– a week ago– you were strolling along like that, all alone, a thousand miles from any inhabited region? You were on the your back to the place where you landed?”
The little prince flushed again.
And I added, with some hesitancy:
“Perhaps it was because of the anniversary?”
The little prince flushed once more. He never answered questions– but when one flushes does that not mean “Yes”?
“Ah,” I said to him, “I am a little frightened–”
But he interrupted me.
“Now you must work. You must return to your engine. I will be waiting for you here. Come back tomorrow evening…”
But I was not reassured. I remembered the fox. One runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed…
中文
找到了一口井，叙述者和小王子讨论他回到自己的星球
小王子说：“人们坐着快车出发， 却不知道自己要寻找什么。于是他们心急火燎，兴奋异常，却只是在原地转圈圈…… ”
接着他又补充道：
“这不值得……”
我们找到的那口井，并不像撒哈拉沙漠里随处可见的那种简单的沙坑。它看起来就像是一口村庄里的古井。可这附近根本没有村庄，我觉得自己像是在做梦……
“真奇怪，”我对小王子说，“一切都准备好了：辘轳、水桶、还有绳子……”
他笑了起来，握住绳子，摇起了辘轳。辘轳发出了呻吟，就像一个被风遗忘了很久的旧风标。
“你听，”小王子说，“我们唤醒了这口井，它在唱歌……”
我不忍心让他拉绳子累着。
“让我来吧，”我说，“这活儿对你来说太重了。”
我慢慢地把水桶提到井沿上，稳稳地放在那里。尽管我很累，但内心却为这份成就感到快乐。辘轳的歌声依然在我耳畔回响，我能看见阳光在依旧晃动的水面上闪烁。
“我渴求这种水，”小王子说，“给我喝一点吧……”
我终于明白了他在寻找的是什么。
我把水桶提到他的唇边。他闭着眼睛喝了下去。这水就像节日的甜点一样甜美。这水确实不是普通的养分，它的甘甜诞生于星空下的跋涉、辘轳的歌声，以及我双臂的努力。它对心灵有好处，就像一份礼物。 在我还是个小男孩的时候，圣诞树的灯光、午夜弥撒的音乐、人们温柔的笑脸，这一切共同构成了我收到的那些礼物所散发的光彩。
“这里的人，”小王子说，“在同一个花园里种植着五千朵玫瑰——但他们却无法从中找到自己所寻找的东西。”
“他们确实找不到，”我回答道。
“然而，他们所寻找的东西，其实在一朵玫瑰花或一点水里就能找到。”
“是的，没错，”我说。
小王子接着说： “但用眼睛是看不见的。必须用心灵去寻找……”
我喝了水。呼吸变得顺畅了。日出时，沙漠是蜂蜜般的颜色。那种蜂蜜色也让我感到快乐。可为什么，在那一刻，我却感到一阵悲伤？
“你必须履行你的诺言，”小王子轻声说道，又一次在我身边坐下。
“什么诺言？” “
你知道的——给我的绵羊画个口罩……我要对那朵花负责……”
我从口袋里掏出那些草图。小王子看着这些画，笑着说： “你的猴面包树……它们长得有点像卷心菜。”
“啊！” 我本来对自己的猴面包树感到很自豪呢！
“你的狐狸……它的耳朵长得有点像角，而且太长了。” 他又笑了起来。
“这不公平，小家伙，”我说，“我只会画从外面看和从里面看去的蟒蛇”
“噢，没关系，”他说，“小孩子们看得懂。”
于是，我用铅笔勾勒了一个口罩。当我把它递给他时，我的心都碎了。
“你有些我不知道的计划，”我说。
但他没有回答我。相反，他对我说：
“你知道吗……我拜访地球……明天就是一周年了。”
沉默了一会儿，他继续说道：
“我就降落在离这儿不远的地方。”
说着，他的脸红了。
那种奇怪的忧伤再次袭来，虽然我还不明白为什么。然而，我脑海中闪过一个疑问：
“那么，一周前的那个早晨，当我第一次遇见你时，你孤零零地在这离人烟千里之外的地方漫步，这难道不是偶然吗？你当时正往你降落的地方走去？”
小王子的脸又红了。
我带着几分犹豫补充道：
“也许是因为那个一周年纪念日？” 小王子的脸再一次红了。他从来不回答别人的问题——但当一个人脸红时，那不就意味着“是”吗？
“啊，”我对他说，“我有点害怕……”
但他打断了我。 “
现在你去干活吧。你必须回到你的引擎那儿去。我在这里等你。明天傍晚你再回来……”
但我并没有感到安心。我想起了狐狸。如果一个人让自己被驯服了，就得承担流泪的风险……
一部分内容摘录自《小王子》。 如有侵权， 请联系作者删除
