There’s toss of a stormy ocean,
Wild surging in Kilauea;
Fire-billows cover the rocky plain,
For Pele erupts her very self.
A flood of rain follows lightning-bolt;
Earth quakes with groaning and tossing,
Answered with shouts from the Echo god.
Once Puna was lifted to heaven;
Now the cloud of dark omen hangs low.
White bellies the cloud over Laka’s hearth;