Fire Dragon

^{for Linus Chao}

Lao Ye sits at the edge of hala trees
where rolls of brown and yellow 
seas eat thorns of dried lauhala. 
He seeks Tai Nainai, finds 
a fishing canoe instead. 

Ma ke kai pōlena o Waimanu
aia ka manu kiko ʻeleʻele
e lele aʻe i ka lewa nuʻu
e lele ana i Kapō‘ula
Aloha aku, aloha mai ē

There are the kiʻi, ready and wet 
from the Qi of a horsehair brush.

Kū ka pae uli huli aku nei
kū ka pali uli huʻi ka makani
aniani ka lehua onaona
kū ka ʻōhiʻa a e ola ka honua
Aloha aku, aloha mai ē

Nā ‘aumakua steer him 
into the breeze that curls
through spines of bamboo trees.

‘O ke ao kea lohe iā ‘oe
hoʻolono kou nānea i ka wao akua
Hao mai ka ua ‘Awa o nā kama ē
Ua lele ‘oe i Kapō‘ula
a ua noa, a ua noa ē.

Lao Ye sits on the back of the fire dragon, 
smokes incense from Shandong to Hawaiʻi.
He stretches from cloud to ka nahele,
paints around the white of sky,
with blue, purple, and red.

Aloha aku, aloha mai ē
Aloha aku, aloha mai ē
No nā kupuna, he inoa.