And I cry out and call my name to hear if it still lives.

A wheel of gold turned before my eyes, and the thunder clapped over my
very head, on my own fjeld. Instantly I started out of the sleeping bag
and left my shelter. The thunder rolled on, there was lightning and more
thunder, worlds were uprooted. Why had I not listened to Olga's advice and
remained in the hut? Is it the Lapps whose magic powers are doing this?
The Lapps? Those human mites, those mountain dwarfs! What is all this
noise to me? I made a feeble effort to walk against it, but stopped again,
for I was among giants, and saw the foolishness of trying to battle with
the thunder.

I leaned against the side of the mountain: no longer did I stand shouting
and hurling challenges at my opponent, but looked at him with milk-blue
eyes. And now that I have yielded, none but a mountain would be so hard.
But I am not rhymes and rhythms alone; did you think I should waste my
good brain chasing such rainbows? You lie. Here I lean against the whole
world, and you, perhaps, believe the blue of my eyes....

At that, the lightning struck me. This was a miracle, and it happened to
me. It ran down my left elbow, scorching the sleeve of my jacket. The
lightning seemed like a ball of wool that dropped to the ground. I felt a
sensation of heat, and saw that the ground farther down the mountain was
struck a loud blow and then split. A great oppression held me down; a
spear of darkness shot through me. And then it thundered beyond all
measure, not long and rumbling, but firm and clear and rattling.

The storm passed on.