Song
The mountain walls of Kalalau
Buffet the blasts of Lawa-kau,
That surge a decade of nights and twain;
Then, wearied, it veers to the north.
Two giant backs stand the cliffs Hono-pu;
The falls Wai-aloha mate with the sea:
An overhung pali—the climber’s back swings in
Its mouth—to face it makes one a child—
Makua, whose arms embrace Kalalau.