The sun grows dim, and hastes away,
As a woman from the scene of the battle.
The tides of the ocean weep as they ebb and flow,
And the mountains of the south melt away,
For the spirit of the chieftain
Is taking its flight to Kona.
Open ye the gates of the heavens—
Enter the first heaven, then enter the second heaven,
And when thou shalt travel the land of spirits,
And they shall say to thee, ‘What meanest this?’