main | Vacant room | Dawning | Butcher shop | Simplicity | Farewell | Dulcia Linquimus Arva | Last sun in Villa Ortúzar | Mythical founding of Buenos Aires | Deathwatch on the Southside | Buenos Aires Deaths | Chess | Quatrain | Cyclical Night | A thirteenth-century poet | Susana Soca | Camden, 1892 | A Northside knife | Milonga of Albornoz | New England, 1967 | The labyrinth | Invocation to Joyce | Tankas | Susana Bombal | Things | Menaced | You | Poem of quantity | The sentinel | To the German language | 1891 | Hengist asks for men, A.D. 449 | Browning poet resolves to be | Suicide | I am | Fifteen coins | Blind man | 1972 | Elegy | The exile (1977) | In memory of Angelica | My books | Talismans | The white deer | The profound rose | Mexico | Herman Melville | To Johannes Brahms | Baruch Spinoza | Alhambra | Music box | Adam is your ashes | On acquiring an encyclopedia | Nostalgia for the present | The accomplice | Shinto | The cipher | My last tiger | The cypress leaves | The weft
The white deer
From what country ballad
of green England,
from what Persian lamina, from what arcane region
of the nights and days our yesterday keeps
came the white deer I dreamed this morning?
It lasted one second. I saw it cross the meadow
and vanish in the gold of an illusory evening,
slight creature made of a little bit of memory
and a little bit of oblivion, deer just one-sided.
The numen that rule this curious world
allowed me to dream you but not to be your master;
perhaps at a bend of the profound not-yet-unfurled,
white deer of a dream, I shall meet you once again.
I too am a fugitive dream that abides
some days more than the dream of meadow and whiteness.