He was barely exceeding the first five calendars of life when the improviser Dimitri Tamayo, had the honor of meeting him. The prominent rhapsode Idelgrades Hernández, named after Sinsonte Caimitero, carried him in his arms precisely in El Cornito, the farm that hosted another famous bard: Juan Cristóbal Nápoles Fajardo, El Cucalambé. That is why his loss, recently, deeply penetrated Dimitri’s feelings.

Las Tunas, Cuba.- At that meeting -Dimitri- narrates, Idelgrades, even with him up, told him pointing to the river in a kind of prophecy: "Look at you there, that you are going to be a poet." For several years, that phrase impacted his family and the prediction was certainly fulfilled. In addition, Adelquis, Tamayo's father, was another notorious improviser and on the part of his mother (María Amparo), love for the eight-syllable rhyme was fueled with his grandparents as protagonists.

Other incident factors in his embrace of the national stanza emanated from those encounters in which he participated from childhood and which made his family (with him in tow, obviously) move to Las Tunas, since they lived in Holguín.

“I remember that poets from different regions met in places like Casa Piedra and sang songs up to eight days, in which the Sinsonte was present… I even played with his children. That's how I met him and his family. ”

Idelgrades was a founder of the Jornada Cucalambeana, the Supreme Party of the Cuban Peasantry, based in Las Tunas, and among its many participations in traditional competitions, the Iberoamerican Festival of the Décima of 1991 stands out, as well as others in which he shared the stage with great improvising poets such as Rigoberto Rizo and Jesús Orta Ruiz (Indio Naborí).

“Due to the situation of the COVID-19, I couldn't say goodbye as I would have liked. I found out late about his death and when I arrived at the funeral home it was almost the end; since we all wear the protective mask, some assistants maybe didn't recognize me. I would have liked to say goodbye to their duel with verses as I have done with other poets who although physically disappeared, are unforgettable.

“He loved the décima; in addition to his wife; it was his other girlfriend. And he was not only a great repentista, he had a beautiful voice and a great improvisation capacity, he also played the lute and was a good person. For those who knew him, it was a great loss,” added Dimitri.

The interviewee spoke nostalgically about his last meeting with Hernández. “Less than a year ago I went to his house and sang a little; it was exciting because even though he was already old and kept in a wheelchair (he became invalid after an accident), he did not abandon his love for our peasant traditions and, especially, for the décima.”