'Ohana. Against my breast, the warmth of your smile spreads through me like freshly-born magma, the child of Pele.
Aloha, you whisper back, your eyes glowing with the edges of the moon.
Aloha, and my hands clasp yours.
We dance, in the speed born of our ancestors, our hips swinging with the rhythm of the ocean. Puka shells scatter into the depths of time, buried in the overflowing sand. Your hand spreads out in the gesture of the land, and I smile. Our land, my hands say in reply. Lani, Lani, the brush of palm leaves cry into the night. Kauhale, the stars reply, their leader shining bright, like the open sea. Hōkūleʻa.
We sing,
`Ôpae ê
`Ôpae ho`i
Ua hele mai au, ua hele mai au
Na kuahine
`Ai iâ wai
`Ai iâ puhi
Nui `o puhi, a li`ili`i au
`A`ole loa
In search for our sisters, we unite the land. Hawai'i is forever in our hearts, and will never be forgotten. The sovereign land of our ancestors. The night glows with the heat of the day and our song concludes, Kêlâ puhi. Our skirts fall silent and our hands still. The sun peaks out from behind the mountains of Ni'ihau and says, Aloha.
We reply, Aloha.
I spent three years living in Hawaii, and I never knew such content and happiness before. The song the characters sing is one of the songs I have always remembered, played on the radio of my mom's old firebird. Called `Ôpae E, the song tells of a brother calling on one of the ocean animals to help him rescue his sister from an eel. The full song and translation is found here:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.huapala.org/O/Opae_E.html