Three Poems

Te Hiro'a E Te Iho Tumu

Ia fati te are no te moeroa
I te teahatai no te orara'a
Ia tuma te mata'i no te mo'e
I te teoteo e te ite
Ia topa te mau unàunà pa'a
Ia vai tahaà no te tino
Ia vai tahaà te varua
E aha pài te mea toe mai?
E aha pài te mea toe mai?

Te hiroà e te iho tumu ia
Tei hono ti'a ia tatou
Te hiro'a e te iho tumu
No roto mai i te pu fenua
Te pu fenua no te aià,
To tatou nei metua vahine

Ia fati te are
Ia farara te mata'i
A moe na te hiro'a,
A moe na te iho tumu!

Te Rahu

Ua tau te tau i mahu ai te mau tino
I imi ai te mau varua I te taura'a hau
Roimata aroha no te ra'i
I teie mau varua mihi
tei 'oto heva nei
I te marama 'ite ra

I ô nei e mahea ai te nevaneva
Ia tu mahorahora te mauiui
E i te fata o tei mainaina
Te manunu nei te here aroha
A mo'e te tahitohito
No te tamaru i te horiri o teie atua fe'i'i
mai te mau atua otahi ato'a

Ia vetea te rahu o teie mau peu
I te e'a no to ratou hepohepo
E o tei fatu mana ra
A ho atu ia te ahi o te pare
Ia 'ite te painu varua mamae
I te ava ti'a hau [Begin Page 95]

Heiva

Te vahatete nai te are
no te parau moe
I te to'a tai
no to'u po uri
Te tavevovevo nei te reo
O TANE atua
I te ra'i toru
No to'u manava
Aue ia horiri navenave no to'u âia!
Te hiti nei te maro tapu
No te vanaa
I ni'a i te mohimohi
O to'u nei mata.
Te marere nei te ata
A ROO ATUA
I te tumu ora
No to'u nei MARAE
Aue ia horiri navanave no to'u âia
Topa atu ra te ra
Pato atu ra te oto
Topa turi atu ra vau: oto atura te pô

E ta'i VIVO tei to'u taria
Mata ataata tei hiti ia'u
E heiva teie
No te mau tupuna

Culture and Identity

When the waves of the long sleep
break on the shores of life,
when the wind of oblivion erases
pride and knowledge,
when appearances vanish,
once the body is naked,
once the spirit is bare,
then, what is left?
Tell me, what is left?

The culture and the original identity
which bind us together,
the culture and original identity
coming from the afterbirth,
the afterbirth of our country,
our mother

When the waves crash and break,
when the wind comes racing down.
think about your culture,
think about your identity.

The Holy Ritual

Now is the moment when the corpses ascend.
The spirits of the dead depart for a new temple.
Heaven is crying tears of sadness
for these begging souls
who scream their distress
before the wandering moon.

Here carelessness dies for suffering to spread
and on the altar of agony,
love and compassion are growing weary.
Cynicism must be vanquished to soothe the anger
of this god as jealous as all exclusive gods are.

May this magic ritual open a way for their despair.
May the one who holds the power
offer them a shelter.
May the tormented spirits
finally find the deserved peace. [Begin Page 95]

The Awakening of the Country

Waves of forgotten words
are yelling to the rocks
of my ignorance.
The voice of the god TANE
echoes
to the third heaven
of my conscience.
How delicious is the shiver of my country!
The sacred cord of knowledge appears
above the darkness
of my eyes.
The shadow of ROO ATUA
takes...