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    The Little Prince: New Translation Version
    The Little Prince: New Translation Version
    The Little Prince: New Translation Version
    Ebook147 pages1 hour

    The Little Prince: New Translation Version

    By Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

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    The Little Prince New Translation version.

    "The Little Prince (French: Le Petit Prince), first published in April 1943, is a novella, the most famous work of French aristocrat, writer, poet, and pioneering aviator Antoine de Saint-Exupéry.
    The novella is one of the most-translated books in the world and has been voted the best book of the 20th century in France. Translated into 300 languages and dialects, selling nearly two million copies annually, and with year-to-date sales of over 140 million copies worldwide, it has become one of the best-selling books ever published."
    By Wikipedia

    "I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean.
    Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said..."

    The little prince tells important things to me.
    LanguageEnglish
    Publishermicpub.com
    Release dateAug 9, 2018
    ISBN9788828371670
    The Little Prince: New Translation Version
    Author

    Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

    Antoine De Saint Exupéry, born in Lyon 29 June 1900, was a French writer and aviator. He is best remembered for his novella The Little Prince, and for his books about aviation adventures, including Night Flight (1931) and Wind, Sand and Stars (1939). In 1921 he began his military service and trained as a pilot. He became one of the pioneers of international postal flight. At the outbreak of the Second World War he joined the French Air Force flying reconnaissance missions until the armistice with Germany. Following a spell writing in the United States, he joined the Free French Forces. He went on a mission to collect information on German troop movements in the Rhone valley on 31 July 1944 and was never seen again. His plane disappeared. It was assumed that he was shot down over the Mediterranean. An unidentifiable body wearing French colours was found several days later and buried in Carqueiranne that September.

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    • 5/5
      It is a book to read over a lifetime over and over!
    • 5/5
      Best book ever, I just want to say the this book is a rollercoster of emotion. This is the book the Ive'd read again for a very long time. And it surely is worth it.

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    Book preview

    The Little Prince - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

    Contents

    Antoine de Saint Exupéry - The little prince

    I

    II

    III

    IV

    V

    VI

    VII

    VIII

    IX

    X

    XI

    XII

    XIII

    XIV

    XV

    XVI

    XVII

    XVIII

    XIX

    XX

    XXI

    XXII

    XXIII

    XXIV

    XXV

    XXVI

    XXVII

    Antoine de Saint Exupéry - The little prince

    TO LEON WERTH

    I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating it to a grown-up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in the world. I have another reason: this grown-up understands everything, even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up. If all these reasons are not enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew. All grown-ups were once children - although few of them remember it. And so I correct my dedication:

    TO LEON WERTH WHEN HE WAS A LITTLE BOY

    I

    Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.

    In the book it said: Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion.

    I pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Number One. It looked something like this:

    I showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups, and asked them whether the drawing frightened them.

    But they answered: Frighten? Why should any one be frightened by a hat?

    My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. But since the grown-ups were not able to understand it, I made another drawing: I drew the inside of a boa constrictor, so that the grown-ups could see it clearly. They always need to have things explained. My Drawing Number Two looked like this:

    The grown-ups' response, this time, was to advise me to lay aside my drawings of boa constrictors, whether from the inside or the outside, and devote myself instead to geography, history, arithmetic, and grammar. That is why, at the age of six, I gave up what might have been a magnificent career as a painter. I had been disheartened by the failure of my Drawing Number One and my Drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.

    So then I chose another profession, and learned to pilot airplanes. I have flown a little over all parts of the world; and it is true that geography has been very useful to me. At a glance I can distinguish China from Arizona. If one gets lost in the night, such knowledge is valuable.

    In the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn't much improved my opinion of them.

    Whenever I met one of them who seemed to me at all clear-sighted, I tried the experiment of showing him my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I would try to find out, so, if this was a person of true understanding. But, whoever it was, he, or she, would always say:

    That is a hat.

    Then I would never talk to that person about boa constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars. I would bring myself down to his level. I would talk to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be greatly pleased to have met such a sensible man.

    II

    So I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week.

    The first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:

    If you please--draw me a sheep!

    What!

    Draw me a sheep!

    I jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard.

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