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.

    Five angels beating bongos,
    Seven saints ringing their bells,
    Wear coats made out of paper money
    And shoes made out of shells.
    They clatter like a box of nickels,
    Holding candle towers, on fire:
    They whirl these as solemn as wise men,
    Paper temples in the air.

    Lights fly like birds behind the cane
    And shot flies after, but in gourds,
    When the comparsa goes off to the plains
    With fires in her mouth, but now words:
    For ten angels ring gangarias

    When the comparsa goes away
    With all the mountain people and pilgrims
    Dancing down to Camagüey.

    The pray for us, Mother of Jesus,
    Caridad, Merced,
    Queen of Cobre and of the three towers
    That watch over Camagüey:
    The ten angels are playing gangarias
    And the comparsa goes away.

     Tomado de Poéticous.