"Mountain walls behind us, black,
and below a void unfathomed!
First we clove through banks of mist,
then we clove a flock of sea-gulls,
so that they, in mid-air startled,
flew in all directions, screaming.
Downward rushed we, ever 
   downward.
But beneath us something shimmered,
whitish, like a reindeer's belly.-
Mother, 'twas our own reflection
in the glass smooth mountain tarn."

- from "Peer Gynt" by Henrick Ibsen 1875

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