Early this morning I had a dream: I was alone, riding a horse at a very early time of day. It still hadn´t lit up. The bridle path was narrow and led to the root of a mountain slope. As I arrived to the tip of a cliff looking over a long valley, I took a rest. Close by was a small fountain underneath a ridge. The horses drank from the fountain. One could hear the sound of the bridle snaffle.
Það var undir morgun sem mig dreymdi þennan draum: Ég var einn á hesti snemma dags. Það var enn ekki fullbjart. Reiðgatan var mjó og lá undir fjallshlíð. Þegar kom að klettanöf þar sem sá fram langan dal áði ég. Þar var lítil lind undir barði. Hestarnir drukku úr lindinni. Það glamraði í beislismélunum.