the big boy and Iâm thelittle girl, just a little speck next to you. Iâve always looked up to you with awe and admiration, and the same went for the last time, when you drove away from the Ylfingabúð, you sitting behind the steering wheel with your parents in back. A cloud of blue smoke trailed behind the car as it rushed west over the ridge; in the next moment it had vanished into Almannagjá. The last thing I saw was when you grabbed your hat with one hand and pushed it down over your forehead so that it wouldnât fly off in the wind. Now Iâve been dreaming of you for seven months. I can meet your eyes in the stars, because theyâre all that we can both see at the same time. But that only awakens an even deeper longing to see you. The language that you speak today is completely different from mine. And your thoughts are like earthquakes.
14.
Do you remember when we went up to Mosfellssveit with your mother and grandmother? Our maid was with us, and a boy from the company drove. It was on a warm, sunny day in the middle of the week, the channel as blue as Esja, the hayworkers with their long wagons on the road. Everything was calm, pure, and blue. Donât you remember how our summer joy was deep and sweet when we were little? We didnât stop until we were a long way out in the countryside; we parked the car on a gravel bed just off the road and hiked up to the foot of a mountain. The boy brought our lunches. We chose a grassy spot by a little stream. The maid heated cocoa; we ate eggsand bread, crackers and fruit. Oh, how hungry we were! Donât you remember how exciting that was?
But suddenly you were lost. You had hiked up along the stream and disappeared behind a hill. A long time passed, and you were lost. Then I hear a shout, and I look up. And youâre standing up on the hill, making a trumpet with your hands around your mouth and calling to me. I ran to you as I always did whenever you called. And you took me by the hand and led me to a little field between two stony hills. You could be so serious and solemn when you were a boy, and I was always scared. âDiljá,â you said, âcome here and listen to something!â
And there was a tiny hole in that hard field. It was so narrow that you couldnât stick your foot in it. And grass grew over the opening, making it almost unbelievable that anyone should have been able to find it. And it was so deep that I thought it went all the way through the Earth. And then you said: âThereâs a dwelling down there, and folk talking.â
We threw ourselves down flat and put our ears close to the hole. And it was true! We could hear peopleâs voices far, far down in the Earth. I still remember how serious you were, but I was scared. âAlmighty!â I said. âWhat if itâs spirits? We should get out of here! Come on!â
But you werenât scared; you just wanted to listen longer. And I was tempted to listen again. At first we heard the same murmur of calm, strange speech, as if someone were speaking in the other world, or in his sleep. But the longer we listened, the more eerie the things we heard became. Finally we heard an instrument being played.Someone had brought out a guitar and was plucking the strings gently, as if playing for a small child. And far, far away it was answered with the deep, deep tones of an organ. We stood up and looked at each other: they played instruments in the other world!
15.
In the summer of 1914 you were twelve, and I was ten. You had gone abroad with your mother, and you didnât plan to be back until the fall. And then the war started. And the sea was filled with mines, and ships were blown up. Good gracious me, I was scared! No, you could certainly never suspect just how scared a little girl can be!
Every night I prayed to God to keep your ship from being blown up. And I said that he could let all the other ships be blown up if he would just
14.
Do you remember when we went up to Mosfellssveit with your mother and grandmother? Our maid was with us, and a boy from the company drove. It was on a warm, sunny day in the middle of the week, the channel as blue as Esja, the hayworkers with their long wagons on the road. Everything was calm, pure, and blue. Donât you remember how our summer joy was deep and sweet when we were little? We didnât stop until we were a long way out in the countryside; we parked the car on a gravel bed just off the road and hiked up to the foot of a mountain. The boy brought our lunches. We chose a grassy spot by a little stream. The maid heated cocoa; we ate eggsand bread, crackers and fruit. Oh, how hungry we were! Donât you remember how exciting that was?
But suddenly you were lost. You had hiked up along the stream and disappeared behind a hill. A long time passed, and you were lost. Then I hear a shout, and I look up. And youâre standing up on the hill, making a trumpet with your hands around your mouth and calling to me. I ran to you as I always did whenever you called. And you took me by the hand and led me to a little field between two stony hills. You could be so serious and solemn when you were a boy, and I was always scared. âDiljá,â you said, âcome here and listen to something!â
And there was a tiny hole in that hard field. It was so narrow that you couldnât stick your foot in it. And grass grew over the opening, making it almost unbelievable that anyone should have been able to find it. And it was so deep that I thought it went all the way through the Earth. And then you said: âThereâs a dwelling down there, and folk talking.â
We threw ourselves down flat and put our ears close to the hole. And it was true! We could hear peopleâs voices far, far down in the Earth. I still remember how serious you were, but I was scared. âAlmighty!â I said. âWhat if itâs spirits? We should get out of here! Come on!â
But you werenât scared; you just wanted to listen longer. And I was tempted to listen again. At first we heard the same murmur of calm, strange speech, as if someone were speaking in the other world, or in his sleep. But the longer we listened, the more eerie the things we heard became. Finally we heard an instrument being played.Someone had brought out a guitar and was plucking the strings gently, as if playing for a small child. And far, far away it was answered with the deep, deep tones of an organ. We stood up and looked at each other: they played instruments in the other world!
15.
In the summer of 1914 you were twelve, and I was ten. You had gone abroad with your mother, and you didnât plan to be back until the fall. And then the war started. And the sea was filled with mines, and ships were blown up. Good gracious me, I was scared! No, you could certainly never suspect just how scared a little girl can be!
Every night I prayed to God to keep your ship from being blown up. And I said that he could let all the other ships be blown up if he would just
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