The night had fallen. I had let my tools drop from my hands. Of what moment now was my hammer, my bolt, or thirst, or death On one star, one planet, my planet, the Earth, there was a little prince to be comforted. I took him in my arms, and rocked him. I said to him:"The flower that you love is not in danger. I will draw you a muzzle for your sheep. I will draw you a railing to put around your flower. I will―"I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more.
“连有刺的花也吃吗？”
他没法再说下去了，俄然泣不成声。
"The thorns― what use are they"The little prince never let go of a question, once he had asked it. As for me, I was upset over that bolt. And I answered with the first thing that came into my head:"The thorns are of no use at all. Flowers have thorns just for spite!""Oh!"
他实在恼火。他甩动脑袋，金黄色的头发随风颤抖着。
It is such a secret place, the land of tears.
他瞅着我手拿锤子，手指沾满了油污，伏在一个在他看来丑不成言的机件上。
我没答复。我当时想的是，如果这颗螺丝再和我作对，我就一锤子敲掉它。小王子又来打搅我的思路了：“你却以为花……”