Of the mist, cold rain and driving storm;
A blazing hearth our garment then,
And to bask in the sun at Oma’o-lála.
Those seeming friends, they went with us,
And then, they left us in Puna—
Land dear to the heart of Kane:
Who eats of your soul is your true friend.
Woe is me, woe is me!
Hiiaka, not yet come back from her adventures in the underworld, heard this lament of Paoa and wondered at his performance—that he, a handsome man, should be standing out in the open with not even a malo about his loins to hide his nakedness, “I wonder what is his name,” she said aloud.
Paoa, intent on supersensual things, heard the wondering words of Hiiaka and responded to them: