She’s consuming the bowlders of Long-rock,
The treacherous paths of Lau-ahea.
A flash of lightning rends the sky!
O Ku-kuena, ’tis for you to dwell
In the flaming Eastern Gate of the Sun.
The plateau of Uwé-kahuna
Breathes the reek of burning woods;
There’s pelting of heads with falling stones
And loud the clang of the smitten plain,
Confused with the groan of the earthquake.