drenched in the sprays
of Tangaloa
you are born
fragile silence falls
gently from the eyes
of the sky
of Tangaloa
you are born
fragile silence falls
gently from the eyes
of the sky
My longing is told to the wind;
Is it a thing in which one may joy,
That in this land we abide?
Fair beckons the strand of Keitahi,1
And the wave-beat of Tausisivatvaki1—
Who is there content to stay here?