“At that very moment, Thorgerd returned and Helgi turned round quickly and fell off the partition. Thorgerd asked him what he was doing climbing up the rafters instead of lying still. He said he was so racked with pains in his joints that he could not lie still.” […]
“He slept again, and again the dragon emerged from the dark. Rakhsh stamped on Rostam’s pillow and pawed at the ground, and once more Rostam woke. He sprang up, his face sallow with apprehension, and gazed about him, but he saw nothing except the darkness. He said to his kind, wise horse, “You should sleep in the night’s darkness, but you keep waking me up; why are you in such a hurry for me to be awake? If you disturb me again like this, I’ll cut off your feet with my sword. I’ll go on foot, dragging my lance and heavy mace to Mazanderan.” […]
“And there, all in their order, are the sources and ends of gloomy earth and misty Tartarus and the unfruitful sea and starry heaven, loathsome and dank, which even the gods abhor.” […]
‘Then she handed me a sword with a highly polished hilt.
“Wield this weapon of mine,” said the woman,
“Much blood has been spilt at the bite of its blade,
And as you slash and swish it will serve you unswaveringly.”’ […]
“It seems to me that dreams are like rumours: you must use your common sense, and then accept some but refuse to believe others.” […]
“Your dream needs no interpretation. You yourself can understand what it is: more than likely, in only a little while, it will come to pass that you’ll be dead, and your enemies will seize the kingdom.” […]
“The dreams themselves differed widely in character and appearance. Some were well-grown, smooth-skinned, shapely, handsome fellows, others rough, short, and ugly; some apparently made of gold, others of common cheap stuff. Among them some were found with wings, and other strange variations; others again were like the mummers in a pageant, tricked out as kings or Gods or what not.” […]
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