Drums of the early evening wake
    The mountain full of ore, and the canebrake.
    Up at Cobre tall tambores call
    One who rings gangarias with a nail,
    One with feathers for sleeves,
    One whose arms are birds,
    One with a mouth full of great fires
    And lights instead of words.

    One with a tobacco leaf hat
    Rings his drum like a bell,
    And brings the saints of heaven, with claves,
    Down from the starlit hill;
    A black angel beats an ass’s jaw
    And (tick tick) a white the claves
    While the sodality of the blessed virgin
    Follow after, carrying flowers.

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