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This poem is taken from PN Review 36, Volume 10 Number 4, March - April 1984.

The Andean Flute Derek Mahon
He dances to that music in the wood
As if history were no more than a dream.
Who said the banished gods were gone for good?

The furious rhythm creates a manic mood,
Piercing the twilight like a mountain stream.
He dances to that music in the wood.

We might have put on Bach or Buxtehude,
But a chance impulse chose the primal scream.
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