My love to the homes made desolate,
On the road which makes this turning.
I turn away with an empty hand,
Lacking an offering fit to make peace,
To soften thy heart and appease thee—
To soften thy heart and content thee.
At the last flicker of life, when the rocky encasement had well nigh completed the envelopment of his body, Hiiaka, daring the barrier of fire that had come between them, sprang to his side and, with the last kiss, whispered into his ear, “Go not on the side whence the wind blows; pass to leeward, on the day of our meeting.” (Mai hele i ka makani; hele i ka pohu, ma ka la a kaua e halawai ai.) By this cryptic expression, Hiiaka meant to put Lohiau on his guard against enemies that lay in wait for him. If he went to the windward he might reveal himself to them by his flair. She also embodied her warning in song:
Aloha ko’u hoa i ka ua pua-kukui,
Kui lehua o Moe-awakea,
Lei pua o Ka-la-hui-pua,