Heaven-magic, fetch a Hilo-pour from heaven!
Morn’s cloud-buds, look! they swell in the East.
The rain-cloud parts, Hilo is deluged with rain,
The Hilo of King Hana-kahi.
Surf breaks, stirs the mire of Pii-lani;
The bones of Hilo are broken
By the blows of the rain.
Ghostly the rain-scud of Hilo in heaven;
The cloud-forms of Pua-lani grow and thicken.
10The rain-priest bestirs him now to go forth,
Forth to observe the stab and thrust of the rain,
The rain that clings to the roof of Hilo.
Hilo, like Puna, stands mountainless;
Aye, mountain-free stand Hilo and Puna.
15Puna ’s a gulf ’twixt Ka-ú and Hilo;
Just leaning her back on Mount Nothing,
She sleeps at the feet of Mount Loa.
A mountain-back is Ka-ú which the wind strikes,
Ka-ú, a land much scourged by the A’e.
20A dust-cloud lifts in Ka-ú as one climbs.
A dust-bloom floats, the lift of the wind:
’Tis blasts from mountain-walls piles dust, the A’e.
Ka-ú was always tormented with wind.
Cape-of-the-Dog feels Unulau’s blasts;
25They turmoil the cove of Ka-hea-hea,
Defying all strength with their violence.
There’s a storm when wind blows at Kau-ná.
Just look at the tempest there raging!
Hono-malino sleeps sheltered by Kona.
30A eulogy this of a name.
“What name?” was asked of the old Hawaiian.
“A god,” said he.
“How is that? A mele-inoa celebrates the name and glory of a king, not of a god.”
His answer was, “The gods composed the mele; men did not compose it.”
Like an old-time geologist, he solved the puzzle of a novel phenomenon by ascribing it to God.
MAHELE III
(Ai-ha’a)
A Koa’e-kea,[169] i Pueo-hulu-nui, 169
Neeu a’e la ka makahiapo o ka pali;
A a’e, a a’e, a’e 170 la iluna
Kaholo-kua-iwa, ka pali o Ha’i. 171
5Ha’i a’e la ka pali;
Ha-nu’u ka pali;
Hala e Malu-ó;
Hala a’e la Ka-maha-la’a-wili,
Ke kaupoku hale a ka ua.
10Me he mea i uwae’na a’e la ka pali;
Me he hale pi’o ka lei na ka manawa o ka pali Halehale-o-ú;
Me he aho i hilo ’a la ka wai o Wai-hi-lau;
Me he uahi pulehu-manu la ke kai o ka auwala hula ana.
Au ana Maka’u-kiu 172 iloko o ke kai;
15Pohaku lele 173 o Lau-nui, Lau-pahoehoe.
Ka eku’na a ke kai i ka ala o Ka-wai-kapu—
Eku ana, me he pua’a la, ka lae Makani-lele,
Koho-lá-lele.
CANTO III
(Bombastic style)
Haunt of white tropic-bird and big ruffled owl,
Up rises the firstborn child of the pali.
He climbs, he climbs, he climbs up aloft,
Kaholo-ku’-iwa, the pali of Ha’i.
5Accomplished now is the steep,
The ladder-like series of steps.
Malu-ó is left far below.
Passed is Ka-maha-la’-wili,
The very ridge-pole of the rain—
10It’s as if the peak cut it in twain—
An arched roof the peak’s crest Hale-hale-o-ú.
A twisted cord hangs the brook Wai-hilau;
Like smoke from roasting bird Ocean’s wild dance;
The shark-god is swimming the sea;
15The rocks leap down at Big-leaf[174] and Flat-leaf— 174
See the ocean charge ’gainst the cliffs,
Thrust snout like rooting boar against Windy-cape,
Against Koholá-lele.
Footnote 169: (return) Koa’e-kea, Pueo hulu-nui. Steep declivities, pali, on the side of Waipio valley, Hawaii. Instead of inserting these names, which would be meaningless without an explanation, the author has given a literal translation of the names themselves, thus getting a closer insight into the Hawaiian thought.
Footnote 170: (return) A’e. The precipices rise one above another like the steps of a stairway, climbing, climbing up, though the probable intent of the poet is to represent some one as climbing the ascent.
Footnote 171: (return) Ha’i. Short for Ha’ina-kolo; a woman about whom there is a story of tragic adventure. Through eating when famished of some berries in an unceremonious way she became distraught and wandered about for many months until discovered by the persistent efforts of her husband. The pali which she climbed was named after her.
Footnote 172: (return) Maka’u-kiu. The name of a famous huge shark that was regarded with reverential fear.
Footnote 173: (return) Pohaku lele. In order to determine whether a shark was present, it was the custom, before going into the clear water of some of these coves, to throw rocks into the water in order to disturb the monster and make his presence known.
Footnote 174: (return) Big-leaf. A literal translation of Lau-nui. Laupahoehoe, Flat-leaf.
MAHELE IV
Hole 175 Waimea i ka ihe a ka makani,
Hao mai na ale a ke Ki-pu’u-pu’u; 176
He laau kala-ihi ia na ke anu,
I o’o i ka nahele o Mahiki. 177
5Ku aku la oe i ka Malanai 178 a ke Ki-puu-puu;
Nolu ka maka o ka oha-wai 179 o Uli;
Niniau, eha ka pua o Koaie, 180
Eha i ke anu ka nahele o Wai-ka-é,
A he aloha, e!
10Aloha Wai-ká, ia’u me he ipo la;
Me he ipo la ka maka lena o ke Koo-lau, 181
Ka pua i ka nahele o Mahule-i-a,
E lei hele i ke alo o Moo-lau. 182
E lau ka huaka’i-hele i ka pali loa;
15Hele hihiu, puli 183 noho i ka nahele.
O ku’u noho wale iho no i kahua, e-e.
A he aloha, e-e!
O kou aloha ka i hiki mai i o’u nei.
Mahea la ia i nalo iho nei?
This mele, Hole Waimea, is also sung in connection with the hula ipu.
Footnote 175: (return) Hole. To rasp, to handle rudely, to caress passionately. Waimea is a district and village on Hawaii.
Footnote 176: (return) Kipu’u-pu’u. A cold wind from Mauna-Kea that blows at Waimea.
Footnote 177: (return) Mahiki. A woodland in Waimea, in mythological times haunted by demons and spooks.
Footnote 178: (return) Mala-nai. The poetical name of a wind, probably the trade wind; a name much used in Hawaiian sentimental poetry.
Footnote 179: (return) Oha-wai. A water hole that is filled by dripping; an important source of supply for drinking purposes in certain parts of Hawaii.
Footnote 180: (return) Pua o Koaie, The koaie is a tree that grows in the wilds, the blossom of which is extremely fragrant. (Not the same as that subspecies of the koa (Acacia koa) which Hillebrand describes and wrongly spells koaia. Here a euphemism for the delicate parts.)
Footnote 181: (return) Koolau, or, full form, Ko-kao-lau. Described by Doctor Hillebrand as Kokolau, a wrong spelling. It has a pretty yellow flower, a yellow eye—maka lena—as the song has it. Here used tropically. (This is the plant whose leaf is sometimes used as a substitute for tea.)
Footnote 182: (return) Moolau. An expression used figuratively to mean a woman, more especially her breasts. The term Huli-lau, is also used, in a slang way, to signify the breasts of a woman, the primitive meaning being a calabash.
Footnote 183: (return) Pili. To touch; touched. This was the word used in the forfeit-paying love game, kilu, when the player made a point by hitting the target of his opponent with his kilu. (For further description see p. 235.)
The song above given, the translation of which is to follow, belongs to historic times, being ascribed to King Liholiho—Kamehameha II—who died in London July 13, 1824, on his visit to England. It attained great vogue and still holds its popularity with the Hawaiians. The reader will note the comparative effeminacy and sentimentality of the style and the frequent use of euphemisms and double-entendre. The double meaning in a Hawaiian mele will not always be evident to one whose acquaintance with the language is not intimate. To one who comes to it from excursions in Anglo-Saxon poetry, wandering through its “meadows trim with daisies pied,” the sly intent of the Hawaiian, even when pointed out, will, no doubt, seem an inconsequential thing and the demonstration of it an impertinence, if not a fiction to the imagination. Its euphemisms in reality have no baser intent than the euphuisms of Lyly, Ben Jonson, or Shakespeare.
Song—Hole Waimea
PART IV
Love tousled Waimea with, shafts of the wind,
While Kipuupuu puffed jealous gusts.
Love is a tree that blights in the cold,
But thrives in the woods of Mahiki.
5Smitten art thou with the blows of love;
Luscious the water-drip in the wilds;
Wearied and bruised is the flower of Koaie;
Stung by the frost the herbage of Wai-ka-é:
And this—it is love.
10Wai-ká, loves me like a sweetheart.
Dear as my heart Koolau’s yellow eye,
My flower in the tangled wood, Hule-í-a,
A travel-wreath to lay on love’s breast,
A shade to cover my journey’s long climb.
15Love-touched, distraught, mine a wilderness-home;
But still do I cherish the old spot,
For love—it is love.
Your love visits me even here:
Where has it been hiding till now?
PAUKU 2
Kau ka ha-é-a, kau o ka hana wa ele,
Ke ala-ula ka makani,
Kulu a e ka ua i kou wabi moe.
Palepale i na auwai o lalo;
5Eli mawaho o ka hale o Koolau, e.
E lau Koolau, he aina ko’e-ko’e;
Maka’u i ke anu ka uka o ka Lahuloa.
Loa ia mea, na’u i waiho aku ai.
STANZA 2
A mackerel sky, time for foul weather;
The wind raises the dust—
Thy couch is a-drip with the rain;
Open the door, let’s trench about the house:
5Koolau, land of rain, will shoot green leaves.
I dread the cold of the uplands.
An adventure that of long ago.
The poem above given from beginning to end is figurative, a piece of far-fetched, enigmatical symbolism in the lower plane of human nature.
PAUKU 3
Hoe Puna i ka wa’a po-lolo’ 184 a ka ino;
Ha-uke-uke i ka wa o Koolau:
Eha e! eha la!
Eha i ku’i-ku’i o ka Ulu-mano. 185
5Hala ’e ka waluahe a ke A’e, 186
Ku iho i ku’i-ku’i a ka Ho-li’o; 187
Hana ne’e ke kikala o ko Hilo Khii.
Ho’i lu’u-lu’u i ke one o Hana-kahi, 188
I ka po-lolo’ ua wahine o ka lua:
10Mai ka lua no, e!
STANZA 3
Puna plies paddle night-long in the storm;
Is set back by a shift in the weather,
Feels hurt and disgruntled;
Dismayed at slap after slap of the squalls;
5Is struck with eight blows of Typhoon;
Then smit with the lash of the North wind.
Sad, he turns back to Hilo’s sand-beach:
He’ll shake the town with a scandal—
The night-long storm with the hag of the pit,
10Hag from Gehenna!
Footnote 184: (return) Po-lolo. A secret word, like a cipher, made up for the occasion and compounded of two words, po, night, and loloa, long, the final a, of loloa being dropped. This form of speech was called kepakepa, and was much used by the Hawaiians in old times.
Footnote 185: (return) Ulu-mano. A violent wind which blows by night only on the western side of Hawaii. Kamehameha with a company of men was once wrecked by this wind off Nawawa; a whole village was burned to light them ashore. (Dictionary of the Hawaiian Language, by Lorrin Andrews.)
Footnote 186: (return) Walu-ihe a ke A’e. The A’e is a violent wind that is described as blowing from different points of the compass in succession; a circular storm. Walu-ihe—eight spears—was a name applied to this same wind during a certain portion of its circuitous range, covering at least eight different points, as observed by the Hawaiians. It was well fitted, therefore, to serve as a figure descriptive of eight different lovers, who follow each other in quick succession, in the favors of the same wanton.
Footnote 187: (return) Ho-Wo The name of a wind, but of an entirely different character from those above mentioned.
Footnote 188: (return) Hana-kahi. (See note f, p. 60.)
This is not a line-for-line translation; that the author found infeasible. Line 8 of the English represents line 7 of the Hawaiian. Given more literally, it might be, “He’ll shake the buttocks of Hilo’s forty thousand.”
The metaphor of this song is disjointed, but hot with the primeval passions of humanity.
PAUKU 4
Ho-ina-inau mea ipo i ka nahele;
Haa-kokoe ana ka maka i ka Moani,
I ka ike i na pua i hoomahie ’Iuna;
Ua hi-hi-hina wale i ka moe awakea.
5Ka ino’ ua poina ia Mali’o.
Aia ka i Pua-lei o Ha’o.
I Puna no ka waihona o ka makani;
Kaela ka malama ana a ka Pu’u-lena,
I kahi mea ho-aloha-loha, e!
10E aloha, e!
STANZA 4
Love is at play in the grove,
A jealous swain glares fierce
At the flowers tying love-knots,
Lying wilted at noon-tide.
5So you’ve forgotten Mali’o,
Turned to the flower of Puna—
Puna, the cave of shifty winds.
Long have I cherished this blossom,
A treasure hid in my heart!
10Oh, sweetheart!
The following account is taken from the Polynesian Researches of the Rev. William Ellis, the well-known English missionary, who visited these islands in the years 1822 and 1823, and whose recorded observations have been of the highest value in preserving a knowledge of the institutions of ancient Hawaii:
In the afternoon, a party of strolling musicians and dancers arrived at Kairua. About four o’clock they came, followed by crowds of people, and arranged themselves on a fine sandy beach in front of one of the governor’s houses, where they exhibited a native dance, called hura araapapa.
The five musicians first seated themselves in a line on the ground, and spread a piece of folded cloth on the sand before them. Their instrument was a large calabash, or rather two, one of an oval shape about three feet high, the other perfectly round, very neatly fastened to it, having also an aperture about three inches in diameter at the top. Each musician held his instrument before him with both hands, and produced his music by striking it on the ground, where he had laid a piece of cloth, and beating it with his fingers, or the palms of his hands. As soon as they began to sound their calabashes, the dancer, a young man about the middle stature, advanced through the opening crowd.
His jet-black hair hung in loose and flowing ringlets on his naked shoulders; his necklace was made of a vast number of strings of nicely braided human hair, tied together behind, while a paraoa (an ornament made of a whale’s tooth) hung pendent from it on his breast; his wrists were ornamented with bracelets formed of polished tusks of the hog, and his ankles with loose buskins, thickly set with dog’s teeth, the rattle of which, during the dance, kept time with the music of the calabash drum. A beautiful yellow tapa was tastefully fastened round his loins, reaching to his knees. He began his dance in front of the musicians, and moved forward and backwards, across the area, occasionally chanting the achievements of former kings of Hawaii. The governor sat at the end of the ring, opposite to the musicians, and appeared gratified with the performance, which continued until the evening. (Vol. IV, 100-101, London, Fisher, Son & Jackson, 1831.)
NOTE BY THE AUTHOR.—At the time of Mr. Ellis’ visit to Hawaii the orthography of the Hawaiian language was still in a formative stage, and it is said that his counsels had influence in shaping it. His use of r instead of l in the words hula, alaapapa, and palaoa may, therefore, be ascribed to the fact of his previous acquaintance with the dialects of southern Polynesia, in which the sound of r to a large extent substitutes that of l, and to the probability that for that reason his ear was already attuned to the prevailing southern fashion, and his judgment prepossessed in that direction.