Читать книгу Unwritten Literature of Hawaii - The Sacred Songs of the Hula - Nathaniel Bright Emerson - Страница 31

Pa-ú Song

Gird on the pa-ú, garment tucked in one side,

Skirt lacelike and beauteous in staining,

That is wrapped and made fast about the oven.

Bubbly as foam of falling water it stands,

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Quintuple skirt, sheer as the cliff Kupe-hau.

One journeyed to work on it at Honokane.

Have a care the pa-ú is not filched.

Scent from the robe Manú climbs the valley walls--

Abysses profound, heights twisting the neck.

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A child is this steep thing of the cliff Kau-kini,

A swelling cloud on the peak of Auwana.

Wondrous the care and toil to make the pa-ú!

What haste to finish, when put a-soak

In the side-glancing stream of Apua!

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Caught by the rain-scud that searches the glen,

The tinted gown illumines the pali--

The sheeny steep shot with buds of lama--

Outshining the comely malua-ula.

Which one may seize and gird with a strong hand.

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Leaf of ti for his malo, Umi 121 stood covered.

Look at the oloná fibers inwrought,

Like the trickling brooklets of Wai-hilau.

The oloná, fibers knit with strength

This dainty immaculate web, the pa-ú,

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And the filmy weft of the kilo-hana.

With the small bamboo the tapa is finished.

A fire seems to bud on the pali,

When the tapa is spread out to dry,

Pressed down with stones at Wai-manu--

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Stones that are shifted about and about,

Stones that are tossed here and there,

Like work of the hail-thrower Kane.

At Wai-manu finished, 'tis cut at Wai-pi'o;

Ha'l takes the bamboo Ko-a'e-kea;

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Deftly wields the knife of small-leafed bamboo;

A bamboo choice and fit for the work.

Cut, cut through, cut off the corners;

Cut round, like crescent moon of Hoaka;

Cut in scallops this shift that makes tabu:

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A fringe is this for the pa-ú.

'Tis lifted by Ka-holo-ku-iwa,

'Tis borne by Pa-wili-wili;

A pa-ú narrow at top like a house,

That's hung on the roof-tree till morning,

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Hung on the roof-tree Ha-la'a-wili.

Make a bundle fitting the shoulder;

Lash it fast, rolled tight like a log.

The bundle falls, red shows the pali;

The children shout, they scream in derision.

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The a'o bird shrieks itself hoarse

In wonder at the pa-ú--

Pa-ú with a sheen like Hi'i-lawe falls,

Bowed like the rainbow arch

Of the rain that's now falling.

The girls of the olapa, their work in the tiring-room completed, lift their voices in a spirited song, and with a lively motion pass out into the hall to bloom before the waiting assembly in the halau in all the glory of their natural charms and adornments:

Oli

Ku ka punohu ula i ka moana;

Hele ke ehu-kai, uhi i ka aina;

Olapa ka uila, noho ï Kahiki.

Ulna, nakolo,

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Uwa, ka pihe,

Lau 122 kánaka ka hula.

E Laka, e!