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The cry awoke Balintawak
And the echoes answered back…
All the four winds listened long
To the shrieking of that song….
I heard it from the planters in the vales…
I heard it from the traders tying bales…
I heard it where the fishers strike their sails…
Every poet struck his lyre
With those burning notes of fire…
All the women knelt to pray
In their hearts that frenzied lay…
E’en the children and the old
Took to arms and shouted bold
I heard it from the huskers’ neath the trees…
I heard it from the divers of the sea…
I heard it from the pounders in the leas…
All the people raised the cry
Fearing not to bleed or die…
Up the mountain, down the plain,
Louder, louder rang the strain
All the tombs of slave and sire
Broke to voice that great desire…
I heard it from the makers of the brooms…
I heard it from the weavers at their looms…
I heard it from the smoking smithy rooms.
From the temples, from the shrines,
From the bosom of the mines…
Kris and bolo flashed in light,
Thunder-voices air did smite…
Muscles sound and spirit strong
Broke the chains with metal song.
I heard it in the bullet’s whine and roar…
I heard it in the farthest islet shore…
I heard it and shall hear it ever more…

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