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Gold and Silver From above, Siglufjörður looks like a toy village with its snow-dusted blue and red roofs, with miniature cars and tiny human figures.Must be a dwarves dwelling. Behind the seven mountains among one hundred and seventy seven times seven dwarfs. Through the Troll Mountains they drilled holes and dugged tunnels right up to hidden places. Where they hoard gold and silver. 
Tracks in the snow, seven dwarf boots with its toecaps uphill. Will they ever return? 
Snow White is tired to death, but she did not like lying in bed and climbed up the mountains. Where Mother Hulda lives and Prince Frost reigns. Where do you rest, you Snowdrifted? 
The gold of the sun attracts – of the sun, which did not show up behind the mountains during so many moons. Gold, painful mined, sun gold cannot be weighted. 
You are standing uphill near the mast, you are the first who greets the sun, you are looking at the waters of the Ship’s Mast Fjord, at the shadows of the dwarves dwelling. 
Down there, behind glass and velvet, three women are painting gold on snow-white porcelain. Blue and red too, but in the finest brush is sun gold. Got from afar. 
The watchmaker went into the mountains to fetch new gold. A long, long time ago. In the workshop under the golden house the clocks and watches are ticking out. 
In the dawn a ship is landing, shining like gold, loaded with silver. 
Bleeding silver. Only one tray or two or three. 
Exhausted are the veins of the sea and the days when the silver fleet anchored in the harbor are gone. 
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