The Ark

Homero Aridjis

There are birds who bear on their wings

the green of the leaf and the stone’s ochre

there are blue beasts flaunting in their stripes

shreds of halo or cloud where day still reigns


there are lions who scatter in their wake

claw-tracks like yellow ears of wheat

horses trembling in immobility

in a silence that seems to leap


fauna pricked to madness that has sprung

from the wheatfield the sun and autumn

a joy of shapes sounds and colours

swaying and clamouring in patches of light


a whole creation moving

playing in the splendor of animal purity

sailing harmoniously through the soul

of this ark of the living




Aridjis, Homero. “The Ark.” Trans. Betty Ferber. Eyes to See Otherwise: Selected Poems = Ojos, de otro mirar. Eds. Betty Ferber and George McWhirter. New York: New Directions Book, 2002. p. 224.

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