He lua i ka Hikina,
Ua ena e Pele;
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
5Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owan no, o Pele,
Nona i eli aku ka lua i Niihau a a.
He lua i Niihau, ua ena e Pele.
He haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
A ninau o Wakea,
15Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Kauai a a.
He lua i Kauai ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
20Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-Ialo i akea;
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
25Nana i eli ka lua i Oahu a a.
He lua i Oahu, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea;
30A ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli ka lua i Molokai a a.
He lua i Molokai, ua ena e Pele.
35Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
40Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Lanai a a.
He lua i Lanai, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
45Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
Owai nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Maul a a.
He lua i Maui, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Ninau o Wakea,
55Owai, nei akua e eli nei?
Owau no, o Pele,
Nana i eli aku ka lua i Hu’ehu’e a a.
He lua i Hu’ehu’e, ua ena e Pele.
Ke haoloolo e la ke ao,
60Ke lele la i-luna, i-lalo;
Kawewe ka o-ó i-lalo, i akea.
Eli-eli, kau mai!
Song
(In turgid style)
A pit lies (far) to the East,
Pit het by the Fire-queen Pele.
Heaven’s dawn is lifted askew,
One edge tilts up, one down, in the sky;
5The 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,
10Dug fire-pit red-heated by Pele.
Night’s curtains are drawn to one side,
One lifts, one hangs in the tide.
Crunch of spade resounds in the earth.
Wakea ’gain urges the query,
15What god plies the spade in the ground?
Quoth Pele, ’tis I:
I mined to the fire neath Kauai,
On Kauai I dug deep a pit,
A fire-well flame-fed by Pele.
The heavens are lifted aslant,
One border moves up and one down;
There’s a stroke of o-ó ’neath the ground.
Wakea, in earnest, would know,
What demon’s a-grubbing below?
25I am the worker, says Pele:
Oahu I pierced to the quick,
A crater white-heated by Pele.
Now morn lights one edge of the sky;
The light streams up, the shadows fall down;
30There’s a clatter of tools deep down.
Wakea, in passion, demands,
What god this who digs ’neath the ground?
It is dame Pele who answers;
Hers the toil to dig down to fire,
35To dig Molokai and reach fire.
Now morning peeps from the sky
With one eye open, one shut.
Hark, ring of the drill ’neath the plain!
Wakea asks you to explain,
40What imp is a-drilling below?
It is I, mutters Pele:
I drilled till flame shot forth on Lanai,
A pit candescent by Pele.
The morning looks forth aslant;
45Heaven’s curtains roll up and roll down;
There’s a ring of o-ó ’neath the sod.
Who, asks Wakea, the god,
Who is this devil a-digging?
’Tis I, ’tis Pele, I who
50Dug on Maui the pit to the fire:
Ah, the crater of Maui,
Red-glowing with Pele’s own fire!
Heaven’s painted one side by the dawn,
Her curtains half open, half drawn;
55A rumbling is heard far below.
Wakea insists he will know
The name of the god that tremors the land.
’Tis I, grumbles Pele,
I have scooped out the pit Hu’e-hu’e,
60A pit that reaches to fire,
A fire fresh kindled by Pele.
Now day climbs up to the East;
Morn folds the curtains of night;
The spade of sapper resounds ’neath the plain:
65The goddess is at it again!
This mele comes to us stamped with the hall-mark of antiquity. It is a poem of mythology, but with what story it connects itself, the author knows not.
The translation here given makes no profession of absolute, verbal literalness. One can not transfer a metaphor bodily, head and horns, from one speech to another. The European had to invent a new name for the boomerang or accept the name by which the Australian called it. The Frenchman, struggling with the English language, told a lady he was gangrened, he meant he was mortified. The cry for literalism is the cry for an impossibility; to put the chicken back into its shell, to return to the bows and arrows of the stone age.
To make the application to the mele in question: the word hu-olo-olo, for example, which is translated in several different ways in the poem, is of such generic and comprehensive meaning that one word fails to express its meaning. It is, by the way, not a word to be found in any dictionary. The author had to grope his way to its meaning by following the trail of some Hawaiian pathfinder who, after beating about the bush, finally had to acknowledge that the path had become so much overgrown since he last went that way that he could not find it.
The Arabs have a hundred or more words meaning sword—different kinds of swords. To them our word sword is very unspecific. Talk to an Arab of a sword—you may exhaust the list of special forms that our poor vocabulary compasses, straight sword, broadsword, saber, scimitar, yataghan, rapier, and what hot, and yet not hit the mark of Ms definition.
Mele
Haku’i ka uahi o ka lua, pa i ka lani;
Ha’aha’a Hawaii, moku o Keawe i hanau ia.
Kiekie ke one o Maláma ia Lohiau,
I a’e ’a mai e ke alii o Kahiki,
5Nana i hele kai uli, kai ele,
Kai popolo-hu’a a Kane,
Ka wa i po’i ai ke Kai-a-ka-Mna-lii,
Kai nu’u, kai lewa.
Hoopua o Kane i ka la’i;
10Pa uli-hiwa mai la ka uka o ke ahi a Laka,
Oia wahine kihene lehua o Hopoe,
Pu’e aku-o na hala,
Ka hala o Panaewa,
O Panaewa nui, moku lehua;
15Ohia kupu ha-o’e-o’e;
Lehua ula, i will ia e lie ahi.
A po, e!
Po Puna, po Hilo!
Po i ka uahi o ku’u aina.
20Ola ia kini!
Ke a mai la ke ahi!
Song
A burst of smoke from the pit lifts to the skies;
Hawaii’s beneath, birth-land of Keawe;
Malama’s beach looms before Lohian,
Where landed the chief from Kahiki,
5From a voyage on the blue sea, the dark sea,
The foam-mottled sea of Kane,
What time curled waves of the king-whelming flood.
The sea up-swells, invading the land—
Lo Kane, outstretched at his ease!
10Smoke and flame o’ershadow the uplands,
Conflagration by Laka, the woman
Hopoe wreathed with flowers of lehua,
Stringing the pandanus fruit.
Screw-palms that clash in Pan’-ewa—
15Pan’-ewa, whose groves of lehua
Are nourished by lava shag,
Lehua that bourgeons with flame.
Night, it is night
O’er Puna and Hilo!
20Night from the smoke of my land!
For the people salvation!
But the land is on fire!
The Hawaiian who furnished the meles which, in their translated forms, are designated as canto I, canto II, and so on, spoke of them as pále, and, following his nomenclature, the term has been retained, though more intimate acquaintance with the meles and with the term has shown that the nearest English synonym to correspond with pale would be the word division. Still, perhaps with a mistaken tenderness for the word, the author has retained the caption Canto, as a sort of nodding recognition of the old Hawaiian’s term—division of a poem. No idea is entertained that the five pále above given were composed by the same bard, or that they represent productions from the same individual standpoint. They do, however, breathe a spirit much in common; so that when the old Hawaiian insisted that they are so far related to one another as to form a natural series for recitation in the hula, being species of the same genus, as it were, he was not far from the truth. The man’s idea seemed to be that they were so closely related that, like beads of harmonious colors and shapes, they might be strung on the same thread without producing a dissonance.
Of these five poems, or pále (páh-lay), numbers I, II, and IV were uttered in a natural tone of voice, termed kawele, otherwise termed ko’i-honua. The purpose of this style of recitation was to adapt the tone to the necessities of the aged when their ears no longer heard distinctly. It would require an audiphone to illustrate perfectly the difference between this method of pronunciation and the ai-ha’a, which was employed in the recitation of cantos III and V. The ai-ha’a was given in a strained and guttural tone.
The poetical reciter and cantillator, whether in the halau or in the king’s court, was wont to heighten the oratorical effect of his recitation by certain crude devices, the most marked of which was that of choking the voice down, as it were, into the throat, and there letting it strain and growl like a hungry lion. This was the ai-ha’a, whose organic function was the expression of the underground passions of the soul.