The flames soared to the heavens, slowly died and cooled to a beautiful cone of ashes, for there was no wind.

Three times the Sun streaked across the sky and the slim crescent Moon appeared. And all the time my Tribe slept, but I could hear all your voices chanting and drumming the words of a song into my ears with strange bird cries all mixed with the song that sounded as the Golden Bird's beauty was consumed by the fire.

It had the head of a cock with a beautiful blood red comb with large black eyes that wept crystal tears, its back was curved like the crescent moon, its tail feathers shimmered and gIowed with all the colours of the rainbow.

Its mighty cIaws had long black talons and deadly sharp spurs which entered the flames as its body was burnt from sunrise to sunset on the first day.

On the second day sparks swirIed upwards from the Firebird's pyre and on the third day it cooled to a cone of white ash.

All this time the tribe slept and in sleep sang the great song of the Firebird.