Sulle,kes sa oled suureks saanud…Sulle,kes sa oled unustanud…
For the one who has grown up…for the one who has forgotten…

Suured inimesed armastavad numbreid. Kui jutustate neile mõnest oma uuest sõbrast, siis ei päri nad teilt kunagi seda kõige tähtsamat. Iialgi ei küsi nad: “Missugune on tema häälekõla? Mis mänge ta kõige rohkem armastab? Kas ta kogub liblikaid?”
Nad küsivad teilt: “Kui vana ta on? Mitu venda tal on? Palju ta kaalub? Kui palju ta isa palka saab?” Alles siis arvavad nad, et tunnevad teda. Kui ütlete suurtele inimestele: “Nägin ilusat punasest telliskivist maja, millel olid kurerehad akendel ja tuvid katusel….”, siis ei suuda nad kuidagi seda maja ette kujutada. Neile tuleb öelda: “Nägin saja tuhande frangist maja.” Siis nad hüüavad: “Oi, kui ilus!”

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!”

“Tuntakse ainult neid asju, mida taltsutatakse,” ütles rebane. “Inimestel pole enam aega midagi tundma õppida. Nad ostavad kõiki asju valmis kujul kaupmeeste käest. Ja kuna ei ole kaupmehi, kes sõpru müüksid, siis polegi inimestel enam sõpru. Kui tahad endale sõpra, siis taltsuta mind!”
“Mis tuleb selleks teha?” küsis väike prints.
“Tuleb olla väga kannatlik,” kostis rebane. “Kõigepealt istud minust veidi eemale, vaat nii, rohu peale. Ma vaatan sind silmanurgast ja sina ei ütle mulle mitte midagi. Keel on arusaamatuste allikaks. Kuid iga päev võid sa istuda natukene lähemale…”

“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me . . .”
“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me–like that–in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstandings. But you will sit a little closer to me, every day . . .”
“Oleks parem, kui oleksid tulnud samal ajal,” ütles rebane. “Kui tuled näiteks pärastlõunal kell neli, siis hakkan end juba kella kolmest saadik õnnelikuna tundma. Iga minutiga tunnen ma end ikka õnnelikumana. Kella nelja ajal muutun juba rahutuks ja murelikuks – nii ma avastangi, mis õnn väärt on! Aga kui sa tuled ükskõik millal, siis ei tea ma, mis kella ajal oma südant valmistada… On vaja kinni pidada traditsioonidest.”
” Mis asi see “traditsioon” on?” küsis väike prints.
“Ka see on liiga unustuse hõlma vajunud,” vastas rebane. “Traditsioon on see, mis teeb, et üks päev teisest erineks, et üks tund oleks teistmoodi kui kõik teised.
The next day the little prince came back.
“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you . . . One must observe the proper rites . . .”
“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.
“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different from other days, one hour from other hours.
“Hüvasti,” ütles rebane. “Siin on minu saladus. See on väga lihtne: ainult südamega näed hästi. Kõige tähtsam on silmale nähtamatu.”
“Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
Ta ei saanud minu mõttekäigust aru ja lausus: “Hea, kus sul on olnud sõber, isegi siis, kui hakkad surema. Minul on hea meel, et mul oli sõber rebane…”
He did not follow my reasoning, and he answered me:
“It is a good thing to have had a friend, even if one is about to die. I, for instance, am very glad to have had a fox as a friend . . .”
“Inimesed,” ütles väike prints, “poevad kiirrongidesse, kuid nad ei tea enam, mida nad otsivad. Siis nad rabelevad ja tormavad ringi…”
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 . . .”
“Inimesed sinu kodus,” ütles väike prints, “kasvatavad viis tuhat roosi ühes aias… ja nad ei leia, mida nad otsivad…”
“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.”

“Tähed pole kõikidele inimestele mitte ühed ja samad. Neile, kes rändavad, on tähed teejuhiks. Teistele on nad lihtsalt tulukesed. Õpetlastele on tähed keerulised küsimused. Minu ärimehele tähendasid nad kulda. Kuid kõik need tähed vaikivad. Sina saad endale niisugused tähed, mida ei ole mitte kellelgi…”
“Mis sa sellega öelda tahad?”
“Kui sa vaatad öist taevast, siis sellepärast, et mina elan ühel neist tähtedest, seepärast et mina naeran ühel neist, siis on otsekui naeraksid sulle kõik tähed. Sina saad endale tähed, mis oskavad naerda!”

“All men have the stars,” he answered, “but they are not the same things for different people. For some, who are travelers, the stars are guides. For others they are no more than little lights in the sky. For others, who are scholars, they are problems. For my businessman they were wealth. But all these stars are silent. You–you alone–will have the stars as no one else has them–”
“What are you trying to say?”
“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night . . . You–only you–will have stars that can laugh!”

Ja ka tema jäi vait, sest et ta nuttis…
“Olemegi kohal. Kase ma teen ka üksipäini ühe sammu.”
Ja ta istus maha, sest et tal oli hirm.
Ta ütles veel:
“Tead sa… ma pean vastutama… oma lille eest! Tema on ju nii väeti! Ta on ju nii lihtsameelne. Tal on neli tühist okast, et ennast kogu maailma vastu kaitsta…”

And he too said nothing more, becuase he was crying . . .
“Here it is. Let me go on by myself.”
And he sat down, because he was afraid. Then he said, again:
“You know–my flower . . . I am responsible for her. And she is so weak! She is so naďve! She has four thorns, of no use at all, to protect herself against all the world . . .”
Ja nüüd on sellest möödunud juba tervelt kuus aastat… Ma ei ole veel kellelegi seda lugu jutustanud. Kui sõpradega uuesti kokku sain, siis olid nad väga rõõmsad, et nägid mind jälle elusana. Olin kurb, kuid neile ma ütlesin: “See on väsimus..”
Nüüd olen juba natukene lohutust leidnud. See tähendab… mitte küll päriselt. Aga ma tean, et ta jõudis tagasi oma planeedile, sest päikesetõusu ajal ei leidnud ma enam tema keha. Tema keha polnud nii väga raske. Öösiti aga armastan tähti kuulata. See on nagu viissada miljonit kellukest…
And now six years have already gone by . . . I have never yet told this story. The companions who met me on my return were well content to see me alive. I was sad, but I told them: “I am tired.”
Now my sorrow is comforted a little. That is to say–not entirely. But I know that he did go back to his planet, because I did not find his body at daybreak. It was not such a heavy body . . . and at night I love to listen to the stars. It is like five hundred million little bells . . .
The whole story

Arhiiv