Kumulipo, Sixth Age
Translated by Queen Liliuokalani
in 1897

  A sacred emblem is the kahili of Kuakamano
That sends out its stiff branches as a sacred frill,
Which fills the faint-hearted with awe,
But brings such ones to claim friendship.
Those are beings who eat by gushing waters,
Who eat also by the dashing sea,
They live in nests inside ditches,
There in hollow places the parent rats dwell,
There huddle together the little mice.
It is they who keep the changes of the month.

The mites of the land,
The mites of the water,
íTis Mehe the reddish seaweed
Whose lashes stand,
That hides and peeps.
There are rats inland, there are rats at sea.
There are also rabbits
That were born in the night of the crash--
They were born in the night that moved away.
The tiniest mice move by crawling;
The tiny mice spring as they move.
They run over the pebbles,
The propagating pebbles where no inland ohia bear.
A puny child born in the night of the crash.
They gave birth to beings that leaped in the night, that moved away
The child of Uli-a-kama last night.
                          íTis night.


The Kumulipo, Seventh Age

  Over the mountains silence reigns--
The silence of night that has moved away,
And the silence of night that cometh,
The silence of night filled with people,
And the silence of night of dispersing.
íTis fearful the steps and narrow trails--
íTis fearful the amount eaten and left--
íTis fearful the night past and gone, p. 22
The awful stillness of the night that came--
The night that went by and brought forth an offspring,
That offspring a dog,
A yellow dog, a tiny dog,
A dog without hair, sent by the gods,
A dog sent for sacrifice.
A speckled bird was first sacrificed,
Else he'd repent for having no hair,
Else he'd repent for having no covering,
And go naked on the road to Malama,
The easiest path for children,
From great to small,
From tall to short,
He is equal to the blowing breeze,
The younger brother of the god
From which sprang the gods of the bats--
The hairy bats. Sprang the bat with many claws--
Sprang the bat and moved away,
That the rising surf might give it birth.
                           íTis night.
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