Translation:The Man Who Lost a Button/IV.
IV.
[edit]And the man who lost a button walked along the path, looking at every pebble, at every blade of grass.
“Button, small and gray! Button, small and gray!”
When he looked at the path for the first time, a single glance across its length, it appeared empty and barren, worn by the feet of people, trampled by the hooves and paws of animals, eroded by the rains. But behold now! Here is the host of pebbles, shimmering in the sun, and blades of grass that are sprouting. And there, the print of a tiny bare foot. Look, a needle for knitting socks that must've dropped from some woman as she walked. A tiny worm, black and hairy, crawls across the path: it stops with its front, curls up, and then stretches out again, moving forward in this way. A long line of ants moves along the edge of the path, hauling grains and straws from somewhere. Some snail is migrating across the path, its shell on its back. A green lizard basks on a rock and, startled, flees into a nearby bush. Someone had passed by and spilled meadow flowers resembling buttons. The man who lost a button realized he had deceived himself, for this little path was overcrowded and crammed with all sorts of things. He was at the verge of anger, as he had to touch everything and turn it all over, wasting time.
A few people were digging in the small field by the path. When they say him they said:
“Ain't that the crazy one?”
“Can’t be! Where’d he be off to like that?”
“And what are you searchin' for, sir?”
The man lifted his head. For the first time, he considered someone might be of use to him.
“I am looking for my button, small and gray.”
“We ain’t seen nothin’.”
They recognized him and gave him a nod, expressing their sympathy.
The man moved forward, constantly looking at the earth, bending down now and then to see better, to shift and rearrange whatever he found.