I have invented new worlds, I have dreamed nights built out of ineffable substances. I have made burning stars, subtle lights next to half-closed eyes...

Yet never
Can I recover that first day
when our fathers emerged,
with their tribes,
from the humid jungle and looked 
to the East.
They listened to the roar,
the song of birds,
and they saw rise up a man with a burning face.
Whose looks,
full of light,
dried up the marshes,
a rall,
burning youth whose face was aflame;
Whose face lit up the whole world!