Salka Valka by Halldor Laxness

21

At the village that spring, each night was more beautiful than the next; isn't it incredible what nature contains in her womb? Nothing on earth is as wonderful as the true love between a boy and a girl in good weather on a spring night, when the horses have fallen asleep in the meadows. It is remarkable that something so sacred, and yet so wonderfully earthly in its heavenly power, can take place in a village where nothing else is on display in the store window but a kerosene stove, a tin pail with a painting on it as a gift for children, and a picture of King Edward of England on his coronation day. In reality, nothing existed any longer but love. Before this primal note, all other notes gradually faded away, as when one drifts off from various noises into the most wonderful dream. And when they met on the street the following evening, many faces appeared at the windows: pale women who had ten children and one dried fish, and bearded virgins who had converted to the true faith because they slept alone. They were all looking at love.