For tinder it has the hair of the fern.
A ghastly rain blots out the sky;
The sooty birds of storm whirl through the vault;
Heaven groans, adrip, as with dragon-blood.
Here Pele comes from her fortress, her Mount,
Deserting her resting place, her hearth—
A wild raid down to Malama.
Kali’u’s highlands shine like the moon;
All Puna glows at the Goddess’ coming.
The crater’s upset; the ama flies up;