68
Pele and Hiiaka—A Myth
The traveler came in your absence;
Both of you gone, no one at home—
No lodge for the traveler within,
No hospitality within!
Both of you gone, no one at home—
No lodge for the traveler within,
No hospitality within!
Here is another version of this mele by Hiiaka (furnished by Pelei-oholani). As the version previously given is confessedly imperfect, in part conjectural, there having been several hiatuses in the text, I think it well to give an authorized version, though very different:
TRANSLATION
A hala bunch, snatched by the wind
That blows from the medicine man,
Pushing the rain to Pua-lehei:
Cold is the traveler and soaking wet,
No friend to give welcome and cheer;
House empty—gone to the seashore;
No one to heed my entreaty.
That blows from the medicine man,
Pushing the rain to Pua-lehei:
Cold is the traveler and soaking wet,
No friend to give welcome and cheer;
House empty—gone to the seashore;
No one to heed my entreaty.
As Hiiaka passed along the cliff that overlooks the wave-swept beach at Hono-lua, a pitiful sight met her eye, the figure of a woman crippled from birth—without hands. Yet, in spite of her maimed condition, the brave spirit busied herself gathering shell-fish; and when a tumbling wave rolled across the beach she made herself a partner in its sport and gleefully retreated, skipping and dancing to the words of a song:
- ↑ Makani. The reference is to the halitus, spirit, or influence that was supposed to rest upon and take possession of one obsessed, even as the tongues of fire rested upon the multitude in Pentecostal times. Kapo herself had this power.
- ↑ Ua, literally, rain, is by a much employed figure of speech used to mean the guests or people of a house. Thus, if one sees a great number of guests arriving to share the hospitality of a house, he might say, "kuaua ua nui ho'i keia e hele mai nei."
- ↑ Pua-lehei, a pali mauka of Wai-he'e.