[Translation.]
Song
Kahiki-nui, land of wind-driven smoke!
Mine eyes gaze with longing on Kona;
A fire-wreath glows aback of the district,
And a robe of wonderful green
Lies the sea that has aproned my loins
Off the point of Hana-malo.
A dark burnished form is Hawaii,
To one who stands on the mount—
A hamper swung down from heaven,
A beautiful carven shape is the island—
Thy mountains, thy splendor of herbage:
Mauna-kea and Loa stand (in glory) apart,
To him who looks from Maile-hahéi;
And Kilohana pillows for rest
On the shoulder of Hu’e-hu’e.
This love-song—mele hoipoipo—which would be the despair of a strict literalist—what is it all about? A lover in Kahiki-nui—of the softer sex, it would appear— looks across the wind-swept channel and sends her thoughts lovingly, yearningly, over to Kona of Hawaii, which district she personifies as her lover. The mountains and plains, valleys and capes of its landscapes, are to her the parts and features of her beloved. Even in the ocean that flows between her and him, and which has often covered her nakedness as with a robe, she finds a link in the chain of association.