The firmament is te ao, te rai, and the atmosphere te reva, and when peaceful, raiatea. This is the name of one of the most beautiful islands of this Society group, “Raiatea la Sacrée,” it is called, “Raiatea the Blessed,” and its own serenity is betokened in its name.
E hau maru, e maru to oe rai
E topara, te Mahana
I Ra’ i-atea nei!
So ran the rhyme of Raiatea:
Full of a sweet peace, serene thy sky;
Bright are all thy days
At Raiatea here.
Rai poia or poiri, they say for the gloomy heavens, and rai maemae when threatening, parutu when cloudy, moere if clear; if the clouds presage wind, tutai vi. The sunset is tooa o te ra, and the twilight marumarupo.
The night is te po or te rui, and the moment before the sun rises marumaru ao. A hundred other words and phrases differentiate the conditions of sky and air. I learned them from Afa and Evoa and others.
The moon is te marama, and the full moon vaevae. Mars is fetia ura, the red star; the Pleiades are Matarii, the little eyes; and the Southern Cross, Tauha, Fetia ave are the comets, the “stars with a tail,” and the meteors pao, opurei, patau, and pitau.
The moon was gone, but the stars needed no help, for they shone as if the trump of doom were due at dawn, and they should be no more. Blue and gold, a cathedral ceiling with sanctuary lamps hung high, the dome of earth sparkled and glittered, and on the schooners by the Cercle Bougainville himenes of joy rang out on the soft air.
I passed them close, so close that a girl of Huahine who was dancing on the deck of the Mihimana seized me by the arm and embraced me.
“Come back, stranger!” she cried in Tahitian. “There is pleasure here, and the night is but just begun.”