Volume 1

Rangi Nui's End is my hometown, And whenever I recall my ancestral lands, The
morning sun shines over Rangi Nui, Looking out over Waiata, the spring of
flowing song, Looking down upon Te Pahau, the wind-whiskered valley, Looking
across Poheka, the land of abundance, Such are the lands of my grandparents,
Such is Rangi Nui's End.

I will journey to visit my ancestral home, On the twenty-fifth night, when the
eels begin their dance, From Ohauiti shall I set forth, where the wind is gentle
on the plains, To the waterfall where sharks do leap, to the shallow shoals, To
Titiwha, those dazzling radiant depths, Where I shall climb the mountain bathed
in sunlight, To visit the long-slumbering master of mountain and stream, To
explore the ancient dwelling place of the long-forgotten pygmies, Before
descending, descending into the valley's deepest depths, Down to Te Tahutama,
where luminescent fish congregate, Down to Aka-aka, where plants grow small and
strange. Down to Mahinini, where the dark currents flow soft yet sharp, Then
down to dark Uropi, the depths of the forest...

Wo-ho! Wo-ho! These distant, far-off lands, the hometown of my grandparents,
They were thrown down, destroyed by disaster and violence, like collapsing
mountains and raging wildfires... My ancestors once lived in prosperity and
peace, yet were plunged into famine and exile, My heart cries out for them, I
mourn their tragic fate, Like unquenchable flame roiling beneath spring waters,
so profound a resentment, so deep a sorrow! Ever shall I wander along that
never-ending wellspring of sighs, And I shall come to fields of mottled green —
that my ancestors called Kahotea. And like the ancient dragons, soar
effortlessly to the mountains where chants abound... The lost envoys of the
heavens built there a city of gold and stone, But it was destroyed when raging
flame fell from the heavens, the fury of the ancient sovereign. Wo-ho! Wo-ho!

And so I wander on, to Poheka, the land of abundance, There Rangi Nui once stood
upright between heaven and earth, so the ancestors say, For he was both a sage
who spoke to the heavens, and a hero of the land, Whose soul returned to the
rising sun, whereupon the sky itself became Rangi Nui. Then, I shall head from
the land of abundance to the distant shore, And on a shore overgrown with
tendrils, conclude my final journey.

I once climbed the lonely, desolate volcano, I have seen countless hot springs
with my own eyes, And I shall head to the other side of the dark currents, To
seek the ferryman, who rows a dugout canoe and wears a gold-feathered crown, And
when at last I see that circlet, glimmering in gold, Then shall I again reunite
with my kin in the garden of Hairinei, The birthplace of the forgotten sovereign
of humans, And I shall gather my tribespeople and friends, and we shall go there
together.