Wolf
Machine translation from the original, not yet reviewed by the author.
Original in Spanish
To Mónica
I would like to believe that my soul is a wolfand that, when this body of mine dies,it would come back in one, forgetting everything,in a frozen forest, a kingdom of cold.
It will open its eyes, lentils of silver,and its mother wolf will lick its fur.In mother-of-pearl dust its paws will sink,vapor at its muzzle, announcing the journey.
Its little tracks, its soft gums,with hard winters will grow large,sharp fangs, and firm flesh,the coat bristling, spirited, untamable.
Run through the snow, like light, without chains!Live, for you are life… today no one is your master.Free in oblivion, beautiful full moon,wolf, beautiful beast, animal of dream.
Beneath tall pines, over the white mantleof the fresh snow that fell in the night,my wolf hides: it is stalking something,a proud deer, that hides a deep fear.
The prey takes fright, I give chase.The battle is fierce, the stronger one wins it.My soul does not remember when it was mine:clothed in the wolf, I do not fear death.