Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained

Derek Mahon’s "The Andean Flute" is a poem that explores the persistence of the past, the endurance of primal energies, and the tension between civilization and an older, wilder consciousness. Written in villanelle form, with its cyclical repetitions and controlled structure, the poem contrasts the constraints of form with the unrestrained, ecstatic energy it describes. The refrain—“Who said the banished gods were gone for good?”—repeats throughout the poem, reinforcing its central theme: that the mythic and the primal are never fully extinguished, no matter how much history or reason attempt to erase them.

The scene is set with a figure dancing to Andean flute music “in the wood,” as if history itself were “no more than a dream.” The phrasing immediately establishes a contrast between the rational, historical view of time and the more instinctive, timeless rhythm of the music and dance. The Andean flute, a traditional indigenous instrument from South America, evokes a sense of ritual and an older, pre-colonial world. The setting in a wood suggests a return to nature, to something elemental, unmediated by modernity. The dance, spontaneous and seemingly unconscious, becomes a symbolic act, a rejection of imposed history in favor of something more innate and ancestral.

As the poem progresses, Mahon describes how the music alters the mood, creating a “furious rhythm” that pierces through the twilight “like a mountain stream.” The association with nature—particularly water, an element of movement and persistence—reinforces the idea of something both ancient and enduring. The image of a mountain stream also ties the poem to the Andes, a landscape deeply associated with the indigenous cultures that produced this music. This is not just an aesthetic experience; it is transformative, transporting the dancer into a state of heightened energy and a connection to something older than himself.

The second stanza suggests an alternative path: “We might have put on Bach or Buxtehude, / But a chance impulse chose the primal scream.” Bach and Buxtehude, both Baroque composers, represent the European classical tradition—measured, structured, refined. Their music stands in contrast to the Andean flute, which carries a raw, “primal” intensity. The use of “scream” here is particularly striking, as it suggests something deeply expressive, unfiltered, and perhaps even unsettling. The choice of music, then, is not just a matter of taste but an invocation of something deeper, a force that cannot be contained by the rational precision of Western classical tradition.

The phrase “An Inca frenzy fires his northern blood” explicitly links the dancer’s experience to an ancestral past that is geographically and culturally distant from him. Mahon, an Irish poet, describes a northern European reacting to the Andean flute with unexpected intensity, as if something within him—something beyond culture or history—recognizes and responds to its call. The idea of a “tribal beam” being picked up by a modern child’s heart suggests an atavistic connection, as if music has the power to unlock something buried within human consciousness.

Seasonal imagery appears throughout the poem, particularly in the fourth stanza: “A puff of snow bursts where the birches brood; / Along the lane the earliest snowdrops gleam.” These details locate the setting in winter, a time of dormancy and waiting, which contrasts with the heat and intensity of the dance. Snow, often a symbol of erasure and silence, is momentarily disrupted by the movement of the dancer, reinforcing the idea that the past—like the banished gods—can still break through into the present.

The final stanza returns to the fundamental needs that underlie this ecstatic experience: “It is the ancient cry for warmth and food / That moves him.” This line strips away any romanticism or nostalgia, grounding the dance in something elemental and necessary. The human connection to music and rhythm is not just aesthetic or spiritual but tied to survival, to the same forces that drove early humans to ritual and invocation. The poem ends as it began, with the insistent question: “Who said the banished gods were gone for good?” The repetition serves as a challenge, a reminder that the old forces—whether mythic, musical, or instinctual—remain alive beneath the surface of the modern world.

Structurally, the villanelle form serves to reinforce the poem’s message. The repeated lines—particularly the refrain—create a hypnotic effect, mirroring the trance-like state of the dancer. The controlled, circular pattern of the poem contrasts with the wildness of the music and movement, echoing the larger theme of civilization’s attempt to contain and suppress the primal, only for it to reemerge in unexpected ways. The carefully crafted structure of the poem thus mirrors the contrast between European order (Bach, Buxtehude) and the spontaneous, untamed power of Andean music.

Overall, "The Andean Flute" is a meditation on the endurance of the past, the persistence of ritual, and the ways in which art, music, and the body itself retain traces of what history seeks to erase. Through its cyclical form, vivid imagery, and thematic contrasts, Mahon’s poem suggests that the human connection to the ancient world is not so easily severed, and that beneath the surface of modern life, the rhythms of the past still stir.

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