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no comparison, no comparison
                                                impossible
o could I say no I could not say you're like
the crooked naio, bastard sandalwood
or the thick garland of the motherless ahihi flower
white-fringed in Nuuanu
you're not the deep pool trodden by swimmers, not
the fine, the silvergray leafed hinahina, silver-sword, bending
to lean and then to fall
in the wind
No, Ku, you're not like any of these
or maybe like the great ohia forest woods
these islands' lehua forest wood alone in the ninth
remoteness of the jungle
No, Ku, these are not like you
not the ekaha fern, strange whole-leafed that lies
under my bed-mat for warmth, not
the fragrant ekaha, not the changing olapa leaf
which gives us a blue dye, the olapa bark,
which gives us a blue dye
No, Ku, you're not like any of these
not the rain, kehau, great
vessel of water poured out, bringing
morning land breeze. not the cold Kumomoku
mountain breeze, the cold Leleiwe land breeze
haven't you known, do you know
the mountain breezes that double up your back
that make you sit crooked and cramped at Kaimohala
No, Ku, you're not like any of these, not
the fragrant lipoa sea weed lovely tasting
not the red fresh-water crab
within the pond
upon the top
                   of Mt. Kaala, not
like the kukui trees of Lihue
whose rough bark the sun splits
as the Awa-root liquor cracks our skin
you're not like any of these, Ku
not like the fine aalii tree whose leaves cure us
not the maile tree who gives us twinings
both glossy and fragrant
for our happy times together, not like the kokio
whose solitary flowers drop wilted, not
like these, you're not like any of these Ku,
                                                                not porpoise
of the sea-cutting snout at home in the shark's water
or the oo, Kaiona bird, ablaze
with yellow shock of feathers; or the keen pig,
the chief-searcher, who sniffed out Umi the king
for the holy Kaoleoku egged on
by the rainbow dazzling him to his question;
haven't you known, do you know
that woman on Puukapolei's summit, draped
in her yellow cloth, draped in the brilliance
crushed from the mao tree flowers, you're not
like the wiliwili wood whose seeds
compose our bracelets, whose trunk glides, whose body
lithe among the breakers is surf-rider
you're not even like the tree called ti, the great
giver, its leaves around our baking supper, leaves
to carry it out, healing leaves on the pounding
brow, leaf cool for the fevered head, gift of the leaf
laced in the fishing-net, necklace of the leaves
dispelling bad spirits, and gift of the dizzying
okolehau liquor from its sweet baked root 0 Ku
you're not even like the tree called ti.

                                        from the Fornander Collection of Hawaiian Folk-lore.