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Taheia, the pit of the night crawls with treacherous things, Spirits of ultimate air and the evil souls of things; The souls 66 ata drive hard the dead, the stranglers, that perch in the trees of the wood, Waiters for all things human, haters of evil and good. Rua, behold me, kiss me, look in my eyes and read; Are these the eyes of a maid that would leave her lover in need. Brave in the eye of day, my father ruled in the fight; The child of his loins, Taheia, will play the man in the night. So it was spoken, and so agreed, and Taheia arose And smiled in the stars and was gone, swift as the swallow goes; And Rua stood on the hill, and sighed, and followed her flight, And there were the lodges below, each with its door alight; From folk that sat on the terrace and drew out the even long Sudden crowings of laughter, monotonous drone of song; The quiet passage of souls over his head in the trees; 66 ata drive hard And from all around the haven the crumbling thunder of seas. Farewell, my home, said Rua.
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