Hark! What bird is this that crieth from the tree? What is the Kapiñjala, this wondrous fowl whose voice doth pierce the morning air? It crieth out, and the priest stands still to listen. The omen is in its call. The fate of the sacrifice dependeth upon what it uttereth.

When the Kapiñjala crieth with a clear, bright voice, behold! The sacrifice shall prosper. The gods shall be pleased. The prayers shall be heard. The rain shall fall upon the fields. The cattle shall multiply. The children shall be born strong. All shall be well. All shall go according to the ancient ways.

But when the bird crieth harsh and discordant, when its voice is troubled and its song is mournful, then beware! There is danger afoot. There is an omen of sorrow. The gods may turn their faces away from the sacrifice. The ritual may fail. The crops may wither. The cattle may sicken. Quarrel may break out among those who dwell together. Death may visit those we love.

O Kapiñjala, mysterious bird! Thou who dwellest in the high branches, thou who seest from thy lofty perch what mortals cannot see! Thou art a messenger from the divine realm. Thy voice speaketh truth that transcendeth mortal understanding.

We listen to thy cry with reverence and with fear. We interpret thy utterance with great care. Thou art not a mere fowl, but a conduit through which the will of the gods doth flow. Teach us to understand thy language. Grant us the wisdom to read thy omens aright.

O Kapiñjala, sing for us! Sing with a voice clear and auspicious! Bring us good fortune! Bring us prosperity! Bring us the blessing of thy divine message! Let thy cry echo from the heavens and assure us that we have pleased the gods and that our sacrifice is accepted. Be for us, O wondrous bird, the voice of the divine realm in this sacred hour.