Now the deer fever tears apart cells inside my ravaged, already so harrowed leather body. In my breath, tracks of moon wind are smarting against the throat and windpipe. I have moved around the deer, I have fastened my fibers to the hard dancing deer. Steam rose from frozen wells, ice floes chafed the channel, cold sweat broke out of the skin wall between my being and the cold. It was a hopelessly treacherous time.
I have moved around the rare glass deer of September. I have moved around the timid water, by the closed border of the fiber deer. And the crack rushes through the black glass. It crackles and shimmers, it quakes in the deer, it quakes and quivers in the breastbone deer.
The leather falcon flies north in sky-shrieking torture. There is a light in the deer, there is a light in the deer, there is a light deep inside the cavity deer! Now the blood surface song surface is heaving! It quakes through me and the deer. Fibers ache in my sharp border. Now the painful deer tears now it breaks. Now the deer and I burst and are exposed –
By Aase Berg Translated from the Swedish by Johannes Goransson