The feelings that strive,
As these tears, to rush out—
I can not repress them!
Pele did not know this name-song of Lohiau until she heard it recited by Hiiaka. This it was that led Hiiaka to come back within easy hearing distance:
Ke kahe ia mai la e ka wai:
Na lehua i Wai-a'ama, la, lilo,
Lilo a'u opala lehua
I kai o Pi'i-honua, la;
Mai Po'i-honua no a Pi'i-lani.
TRANSLATION
It moans in the rushing tide.
Gone is my grove of lehuas—
My rubbish grove, that stood
By the pilfering waters—flown,
He has flown, like its smoke, to heaven.
'Tis there I must seek him!
"How absurd of you," said Pele; "you were not sent on an expedition to heaven, but to bring a man who is here on earth. If you fly up to heaven, you will pass him by and leave him here below."
Hiiaka and her faithful companion—Pau-o-pala'e—had gotten well away from the vast pit of Kilauea, with its fringe of steam-cracks and fumaroles that radiate from it like the stays of a spider-web, and they were nearing the borders of Pana-ewa, when Hiiaka's quick ear caught the sound of a squealing pig. Her ready intuition furnished the right interpretation to this seemingly insignificant occurrence:
Halawai me ka pua'a
A Wahine-oma'o,
Me ku'u maka lehua i uka.
