Peru Magdalena has something special, a natural way to do the most unusual thing. It's able to write the poems inesimos and make the reader feel that for the first time it reads descriptive poems hyper-short. He has inaugurated the “Golden Section” of the editorial Balea Zuria, with half a half-book art object the size of a box of matches. They have thrown three hundred copies. Two hundred and seventy seven is mine.

We have already said descriptive poetry, but, you know, well-worked Haikos are inexorably directed towards philosophy, as they provoke in us a special resonance, as if they were saying more than they say. Like stone to water, the waves extend Magdalena's poetry: “Short rains/ leaves have been wet/ the trunk has dried”, or “cut grass/ we differentiate/ all herbs”, or “I read in a glass of water/in a frozen haiku/ leo”, referring to the great master Matsuo Basho.

Haikua has its literary origin in the major religions of ancient China: Buddhism, Confucism and Taoism. These thoughts spread to many regions of Asia and, after their arrival in Japan, these brief writing schemes, full of wisdom and great influence. The Japanese already had in their poetry these forms – katautas, sedoka, txoka, tanka-. Haikua flourished late in ours, but it is based on the same beautiful precarious balance, like that Buson butterfly: “In the bell of temples/ Sleeping immobile,/ Pinpilinpauxa”.

Igerabide, Linazasoro… many have practiced this delicate art, but for me the most beloved are those of Peru Magdalena, because it is a tavern, the only dish of detail. He knows how to bring the best distillation of nature to our spirit by conceiving that the Fuji is Anboto: “anboto hor/ suganla here/ spring”. He knows how to put a literary gesture in the right place – “the lover comes/ our heart mixes/ and leaves”. Meteoros, rivers, mountains, trees. Animals, plants, yourself. Pencil, Haiku. Peru Magdalene feels poetry, and that's noticeable; she's dripping into a miraculous world.