And kestrels, soaring to the vantage point,
Slide down upon the storm-wind—do they not?
Icelin.I see some things like sparrows in the sky.
Dansberg.What do you see then?
Icelin. Dansberg.What do you see then?The winding of the river,
And the blue mountains on the verge.
Dansberg. And the blue mountains on the verge.At this hour
Hills are not blue. Say, is there light?
Icelin. Hills are not blue. Say, is there light?’Tis light.
Dansberg. I feel that it is dark. Is it not cold?