(From the poetry collection:

Wanderings Through the Landscape)

A deer runs from the Barents Sea

to the easternmost point of New Zembla.

The image is a sequence of frames

where the animal raises its hooves,

sets them on the ground,

leaps,

steps upon the earth.

It has salt on its snout,

a crust of salt,

and fur that keeps it from feeling the cold.

The water is so dense

that it is hard to swallow.

There is a landscape beyond the image:

native trees,

mother-of-pearl on the ground,

fishermen’s nets

amid the breaths of Norse gods.

The scene unfolds slowly, allowing time

to imagine the same animal

running from Lake Argentino

to Puerto Aysén,

crossing amancay fields,

ancient larches,

flowering firebushes,

nalcas to scratch itself against.

The same deer stands still

before a hanging glacier,

waiting for the rain to pass.

Nature near the poles

caresses the back of the solitary deer

and shelters wild souls.