The raging waves engulf the steep coast—
The sea Pele turmoiled at Kahiki,
That surged at the base of Kilauea—
The bird-killing flood Ka-hulu-manu.
Makali’i’s waves were like folds in a mat;
A smiting of rock against rock
Is the awful surge of the Pele folk.
The wind-blast enflames their dry tinder.
The face of the Sun is hot in Puna.
I companioned, it seems, with a god;