Duende Poem by gershon hepner

The love you cannot buy on Sunday
flamenco artists call duende.
It’s unashamed and undisguised,
more playful than a poltergeist,
an evil spirit and a demon
injected into song like semen,
but like the daimon of the Greeks
pursues the artist if he seeks
to plumb the depths of song and dance.
the spirit of flamenco, trance
in which it dearly loves to languish.
It brings the cante jondo anguish,
lamenting lost love, sad betrayal;
before it shows all love must fail
you feel emotions that it lent
to love, preceding the lament.

Conservatives say with resolve:
“Flamenco never should evolve, ”
but no duende ever will
for conservation stand quite still,
with stillness right for a museum,
but not duende’s carpe diem.

Yet even strong hearts have to falter:
flamenco too is bound to alter,
for always there are new agendas
for poltergeists that dance duendes.


Jamie James in the NYT (3/2/97) quotes Carmen Linares: “There are many new influences in flamenco.” Lorca called flamenco “the most gigantic creation of the Spanish people”. It originated in the 15th century when Gypsies, Jews, Arabs and outcast Christians mingled and shows influences of Byzantine chant and Indian music but has changed little until today.

,2/14/98