Chapter IV
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sky, the straggling line of trees which are called Aromaiterai’s drove of pigs -- his Tiaapuaa, on the Mouarahi, the great mountain. Long white threads, hundreds of feet in perpendicular descent, mark the cascades on the green wall -- the Pari -- of the mountain. The dews or showers gather in the morning on the mountain-tops and spread the cloud -- Aromaiterai’s cloak -- that shut them out from his sight.
According to the tradition, the unknown stranger who had taken his abode at Mataoae, when he came out of his house in the early morning, looked across the bay to the distant mountains behind Papara, and repeated his lament until the people divined his secret.
Ei Mataoae au hio atu ai i tau fenua ite Tianina.
Ite moua ra o Tearatapu te peho i Temaite
Terara ua e. e ore oe e iriti ae
Ia hio atu au ite moua rahi ra
Aue le pare i mapuhi e tau fenua iti e
Te pahu taimai o nia o Fareura
E iriti hia mai te matai o te toa
Ei tahirihiri no te arii no Aromaiterai.
"From Mataoae I look toward my land Tetianina, the mount Tearatapu, the valley Temaite, my drove of pigs on Mouarahi, the great mountain. Mist hides the mountain. My cloak is spread. Oh that the rain clear away, that I may see the great mountain! Aue! alas! the wall of Mapuhi, dear land of mine!
"The drums that sound above Fareura draw to me the winds of the south for a fan to fan the chief Aromaiterai. [I long for] the sight of my home."
Nothing could well be simpler, and if perfect simplicity is a beauty or homesickness is poetic, even a foreigner who never has seen or
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Indigenous Histories |  |
© Derived from the revised Paris edition of 1901 page 35, 2004
Published by kind permission of the Library
To cite this page use: https://paulturnbull.org/project/southseas/journals/-marua-035.html