The ice on the lake shone so brightly that it did not look like ice at all.
Frozen into this block of ice were broad, sword-shaped leaves, thin straws, seeds and detritus from the woods, a brown, straddling ant – all mingled with bubbles that had formed and which appeared clearly as beads when the sun’s rays reached them.
And what was this?
It must be the ice palace.
But this was unexpected, too: she was standing in what looked like a room of tears.
No one is involved deeply enough to be present. A blast of noiseless chaos may cause the air to vibrate in distant bedrooms, but no one wakes up to ask: What is it?
No one knows.
Now the palace, with all its secrets, goes into the water-fall. There is a violent struggle, and then it has gone.
Quotes from The Ice Palace by Tarjej Vesaas, translated by Elizabeth Rokkan.
The Inner Frame 