********** Kouřím, abych nemusela plakat. (Vynzgést Gargas) *******


2. června 2006 v 22:42 | Gargas |  Angličtina


So then the seventh planet was the Earth.The Earth is not just an ordinary planet! One can count, there, 111 kings (not forgetting, to be sure, the Negro kings among them), 7000 geographers, 900,000 businessmen, 7,500,000 tipplers, 311,000,000 conceited men--that is to say, about 2,000,000,000 grown-ups.To give you an idea of the size of the Earth, I will tell you that before the invention of electricity it was necessary to maintain, over the whole of the six continents, a veritable army of 462,511 lamplighters for the street lamps.Seen from a slight distance, that would make a splendid spectacle. The movements of this army would be regulated like those of the ballet in the opera. First would come the turn of the lamplighters of New Zealand and Australia. Having set their lamps alight, these would go off to sleep. Next, the lamplighters of China and Siberia would enter for their steps in the dance, and then they too would be waved back into the wings. After that would come the turn of the lamplighters of Russia and the Indies; then those of Africa and Europe; then those of South America; then those of South America; then those of North America. And never would they make a mistake in the order of their entry upon the stage. It would be magnificent.Only the man who was in charge of the single lamp at the North Pole, and his colleague who was responsible for the single lamp at the South Pole--only these two would live free from toil and care: they would be busy twice a year.


When one wishes to play the wit, he sometimes wanders a little from the truth. I have not been altogether honest in what I have told you about the lamplighters. And I realize that I run the risk of giving a false idea of our planet to those who do not know it. Men occupy a very small place upon the Earth. If the two billion inhabitants who people its surface were all to stand upright and somewhat crowded together, as they do for some big public assembly, they could easily be put into one public square twenty miles long and twenty miles wide. All humanity could be piled up on a small Pacific islet.The grown-ups, to be sure, will not believe you when you tell them that. They imagine that they fill a great deal of space. They fancy themselves as important as the baobabs. You should advise them, then, to make their own calculations. They adore figures, and that will please them. But do not waste your time on this extra task. It is unnecessary. You have, I know, confidence in me.When the little prince arrived on the Earth, he was very much surprised not to see any people. He was beginning to be afraid he had come to the wrong planet, when a coil of gold, the color of the moonlight, flashed across the sand."Good evening," said the little prince courteously."Good evening," said the snake."What planet is this on which I have come down?" asked the little prince."This is the Earth; this is Africa," the snake answered."Ah! Then there are no people on the Earth?""This is the desert. There are no people in the desert. The Earth is large," said the snake.The little prince sat down on a stone, and raised his eyes toward the sky."I wonder," he said, "whether the stars are set alight in heaven so that one day each one of us may find his own again . . . Look at my planet. It is right there above us. But how far away it is!""It is beautiful," the snake said. "What has brought you here?""I have been having some trouble with a flower," said the little prince."Ah!" said the snake.And they were both silent."Where are the men?" the little prince at last took up the conversation again. "It is a little lonely in the desert . . .""It is also lonely among men," the snake said.The little prince gazed at him for a long time."You are a funny animal," he said at last. "You are no thicker than a finger . . .""But I am more powerful than the finger of a king," said the snake.The little prince smiled."You are not very powerful. You haven't even any feet. You cannot even travel . . .""I can carry you farther than any ship could take you," said the snake.He twined himself around the little prince's ankle, like a golden bracelet."Whomever I touch, I send back to the earth from whence he came," the snake spoke again. "But you are innocent and true, and you come from a star . . ."The little prince made no reply."You move me to pity--you are so weak on this Earth made of granite," the snake said. "I can help you, some day, if you grow too homesick for your own planet. I can--""Oh! I understand you very well," said the little prince. "But why do you always speak in riddles?""I solve them all," said the snake.And they were both silent.The Little prince and the snake


The little prince crossed the desert and met with only one flower. It was a flower with three petals, a flower of no account at all."Good morning," said the little prince."Good morning," said the flower."Where are the men?" the little prince asked, politely.The flower had once seen a caravan passing."Men?" she echoed. "I think there are six or seven of them in existence. I saw them, several years ago. But one never knows where to find them. The wind blows them away. They have no roots, and that makes their life very difficult.""Goodbye," said the little prince."Goodbye," said the flower.The flower


After that, the little prince climbed a high mountain. The only mountains he had ever known were the three volcanoes, which came up to his knees. And he used the extinct volcano as a footstool. "From a mountain as high as this one," he said to himself, "I shall be able to see the whole planet at one glance, and all the people . . ."But he saw nothing, save peaks of rock that were sharpened like needles."Good morning," he said courteously."Good morning--Good morning--Good morning," answered the echo."Who are you?" said the little prince."Who are you--Who are you--Who are you?" answered the echo."Be my friends. I am all alone," he said."I am all alone--all alone--all alone," answered the echo."What a queer planet!" he thought. "It is altogether dry, and altogether pointed, and altogether harsh and forbidding. And the people have no imagination. They repeat whatever one says to them . . . On my planet I had a flower; she always was the first to speak . . ."The echo

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