Translation:The Man Who Lost a Button/I.
I.
[edit]And one evening, our father told us a story, mostly looking at me:
»Once, there lived a man who was constantly looking at the sky.
Early in the morning, he would already be looking at the sky, standing by the little window of his small room. He would look and say:
“I greet you, Morning Dawn, our early-rising sister! Greetings and thanks! You dawn for everyone, but no one does it bring as much joy as it brings me. Others see only the small bit of light you pour upon our earth, full of shadows and darkness; but I see rivers of light that you spread over the paths the sun will take. I see gardens with golden trees and pearlescent fences from which you emerge in the East. I sense all the joy of your eternal youth. I gaze at you, and I can never get enough. For each day, you open a new door and reveal new splendors.”
And that man walked through the fields in the morning, and looking at the sky. He would look and say:
“Clouds! Clouds! Some white, light; others gray, heavy. What is there that you don’t build up and tear down in the heavenly fields? What paths are there that you don’t know! People also build up and tear down things on earth, but with what effort and with what struggle! And everything they build is bulky and heavy. A pitiful, ridiculous image of what you make in an instant, undo in an instant, only to create anew, even more beautiful forms.”
In the evening, he walked along the mountain paths down to the hillside of the river, from its mouth to his little house, and constantly looking at the sky. He would look and say:
“I love the twilight, the evening fires in the clouds. And the first stars that emerge in the clear sky. And the moon that rises. How beautiful, vast, and eternal everything is up there; while down here everything is ugly, small, and fleeting. How much life and what abundance there is in the sky; and how much barrenness and what poverty there is on earth! The heavens are overflowing with wonders, while the earth is a wasteland. Oh stars! Oh moon! Oh planets!”
And he walked on the earth, constantly looking at the sky. He would stumble over stones, occasionally falling into a pit, almost plummet into a chasm, yet he would not look at the earth even then. And he wouldn’t even get upset, for the earth wasn’t even worth being annoyed by. At people he barely glanced; he neither loved nor despised them. From his brothers, he grew estranged. With his elderly father and mother, he spoke only as much as necessary. He neglected his affairs. He ate whatever was at hand. The clothes on him were tattered.