Here in this town, not found on any map,
light was made in the darkness of a room.
The waters were divided from the waters. The air
that ran through the mountain blew the breath of life in.
Here where the heavenly bodies began to lord it
over the day and the night, the eyes looked at one
in the solitude of the bed, and their igniferous glow
lit the arteries of the being preconceived.
Here where the first instant smelt of breast
and woman’s hands, cool sheet, ripe fig
and rain on the outside wall,
I glimpsed light’s infinite smile.
Here in Contepec, place between the hills and the
situated at an altitude of 2,481 meters above sea
behind a window the oceans of the earth were born,
and the whale, turtle and butterfly flew under a roof.
Here, in the arms of a woman treading softly,
the word was uttered for the first time. The stones,
the trees, the beings and the streets had a name and
The birds of poetry sang inside me.
Aridjis, Homero. “Genesis." Poemas solares: Solar Poems. Trans. George McWhirter. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2010. p. 242.