I ka pule aku nei, ua hana haipule makou ma ka heiau o Mailekini, aia i lalo koke o Puʻu Koholā ma Kawaihae. Ua pule mākou, a ua hana pōhaku kekahi mau kane mai Maui mai, i alakaʻi ʻia e Francis Sinenci ko lākou poʻo. He hana hoʻopaepae hou ʻana i nā pā pōhaku heiau i naka a hina i kēlā ʻōlaʻi nui i ka makahiki aku nei. Hana makou mai ke kakahiaka nui a hiki i ka auinala, a i keia me kela ahiahi, ua haalele nā kāhuna i uka i Waimea, e moe i ke anu o ka uka, ma ka hale hoʻokipa ʻo Kamuela Inn. I mua o ka puka o ko makou mau lumi, aia ka mala pua, me na kumu laʻau nui.
The other week, We did prayer duty at Mailekini heiau, just below Puʻu Koholā in Kawaihae. We prayed, and some men from Maui did the rock work, led by Francis Sinenci, their guide. This was a rebuilding of the temple stone walls that shook and fell in that great earthquake last year. We worked from the early morning until the afternoon, and every evening, the kahuna retreated upland in Waimea, to sleep in the cold of the uplands, at the Kamuela Inn. In front of the doorway of our rooms was a garden with large trees.
I kekahi ahiahi, ma kēlā mala, ua kāhoa ʻia mai luna mai i kahi manu nūnū niniu loa e ka ʻio, a ma hope, ua lele malie ʻo ua manu ʻio nei i nā lālā o ke kumu lāʻau e hoʻomākaukau i kona mea ʻaina.
One evening, at that garden, an unfortunate dove was struck from above by a Hawaiian hawk, and afterward, this hawk flew calmly into the branches of the tree to prepare its meal.
Aia mākou ma lalo, ke kilo i luna i kēlā manu hanohano no, he ʻio uli, ʻeleʻele kona nuku a me kona mau maka, a me kona kino a pau, a koe ka umauma ʻano halakea. Ua pēpē ʻia a make ka manu nūnū e nā maiʻao weliweli o ka ʻio, i lomilomi loa ai a pau nā kaʻahili o ka nūnū i ka make. A laila, ua unuunu keia ʻio i na hulu hinahina o ka manu nūnū. Lalana i ke aheahe keia mau hulu kāpae ʻia e ka nuku ʻio, a pae i ka mauʻu i mua o mākou.
There we were below, gazing above at that majestic bird, a dark hawk, black were its beak and eyes, and its whole body, except the chest, somewhat pale. The dove was crushed to death by the terrible talons of the hawk, that kept crushing until the dove's struggles were ended in death. Then, the hawk plucked the grey feathers of the dove. These feathers floated on the gentle breeze, until they landed on the grass in front of us.
Ua lohe ʻia i ka haki o na iwi nūnū, iwi haki wale i ka nuku paa o ka ʻio. Mea hoopunihei ia makou. Ua haʻi au i ka ʻio: e ʻio e! e ka manu lani e! mai hopohopo oe, he mau kanaka niele wale makou, ke nānā nei i kou ʻaina leʻaleʻa. Ua luana iki ka ʻio i ko i ala hana, a ua huli i kona maka iā mākou, me he mea i pane mai la: he mea ʻole oukou naʻu, he ʻio kau i luna nō wau.
The breaking of the bones of the dove was heard, bones easily broken in the hard beak of the hawk. It was a fascinating thing to us. I said to the hawk: O ʻIo! O grand bird! Donʻt be concerned, we are just some curious kanaka, watching you enjoy your meal. The hawk paused, and turned its face toward us, as a way to reply: you are nothing to me, I am a hawk perched above.
He mea hoʻomanaʻo loa nō ia.
Its a thing to long remember.
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