Through the dark foliage
On stretched goatskins
Came the invitation
Floating softly on the wind.
At first, understanding eluded me
Yet my pulse responded to its tempo
Which came across mingled with ululations
Wood on glass
And the chorus of the six-legged.
Suddenly I knew
That round the rising smoke
Danced the living and the dead.
My roots tapped the rhythmic call
And I now go to stamp my feet
In dialogue with my ancestors
And I shall dance to wood on glass,
The message on stretched goatskins
And the chorus of the six-legged,
Till Night lays down its weary head
And a new day is born.