Translation:The Man Who Lost a Button/V.
V.
[edit]When he reached the height, he found it all covered in young grass, resembling a green carpet, sprinkled with flowers, mostly small yellow marsh stars and buttercups.
Now he had to kneel and search with his fingers through the grass.
“Button, small and gray! Button, small and gray!”
But instead of the button, his hands encountered white snowdrop bells, orchid blossoms resembling large, velvety flies, blue heads of speedwell, and the fuzzy fruits of pasqueflowers. Tiny worms crawled over his fingers, ants climbed up his elbow, and green grasshoppers leaped onto his knees: a whole host of small creatures emerged from the grass to climb onto the man who was searching for his button.
At times, he would pause, kneeling with his head bowed, and gaze intently at all those tiny but restless creatures. His gaze lingered longest when he noticed, instead of the button, white eggs in his palm, as if something inside them were tapping and wanting to emerge, to come out into the air and sunlight.
And for the first time, he felt the scent of earth, warm and damp—the spring earth from which everything grows and sprouts.
All this distracted him from his task. He was glad to have finally explored the entire hilltop, so he got up and stretched his numb knees. He shook off the leaves and little creatures and looked around.
The river sparkled at the bottom of the hillside. He wanted to descend but caught sight of a thicket just a little lower down. He immediately remembered that on the day he lost a button, a thin branch had struck him in the face, scratching his cheek and almost injuring his eyes, which had been looking at the sky. He might have passed right through that thicket. Surely some branch must have torn the button from his chest.