Heaven’s dawn is lifted askew,
One edge tilts up, one down, in the sky;
The thud of the pick is heard in the ground.
The question is asked by Wakea,
What god’s this a-digging?
It is I, it is Pele,
Who dug Mihau deep down till it burned,
Dug fire-pit red-heated by Pele.
Night’s curtains are drawn to one side,
One lifts, one hangs in the tide.