Маленький принц

           Itwasbornofourwalkbeneaththestars,ofthesongofthepulley,oftheeffortofmyarms. Itdidtheheartgood,likeapresent. WhenIwasalittleboy,theChristmas-treelights,themusicofmidnightmass,thetendernessofpeople’ssmilesmadeup,inthesameway,thewholeradianceoftheChristmaspresentIreceived. 

           "Peoplewhereyoulive,"thelittleprincesaid,"growfivethousandrosesinonegarden..."yettheydon’tfindwhatthey’relookingfor..." 

           "Theydon’tfindit,"Ianswered. 

           "Andyetwhatthey’relookingforcouldbefoundinasinglerose,oralittlewater..." 

           "Ofcourse."Ianswered. 

           Andthelittleprinceadded, "Buteyesareblind. Youhavetolookwiththeheart." 

           Ihaddrunkthewater. Icouldbreatheeasynow. Thesand,atdaybreak,ishoney-colored. Andthatcolorwasmakingmehappy,too. WhythendidIalsofeelsosad? 

           "Youmustkeepyourpromise,"saidthelittleprince,sittingupagainbesideme. 

           "Whatpromise?" 

           "Youknow...amuzzleformysheep...I’mresponsibleforthisflower!" 

           Itookmydrawingsoutofmypocket. Thelittleprinceglancedatthemandlaughedashesaid, "Yourbaobabslookmorelikecabbages."