Waiata 30: He mea whakamāori, nā ngā Waiata a Wiremu Hākipia
A translation into Māori of William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30
Muri ahiahi noho rawa ki te whakaaro puku,
Toko ake he mahara ki ngā mea kua hipa,
Mapu kau au ki ngā wawata matekiri,
Tangi-houtia taku moumou tupu ki ngā aitua o mua,
Nā, tōremi nei taku karu maroke hangehange
Mō ngā hoa aroha ngaro ki te pō tē kautea,
Hei rutu hou mō te pōuri tawhito o te aroha,
Hei aurere i te paunga o ngā tini pae ngaro:
Nā, tangi ai au i ngā hara nō mua atu rā,
Ka kaute, ka whakarapopoto i ia hara i ia hara,
Te kaute taumaha i ngā mapu mapu-mua-tia,
Kia pei anō au, ānō kāore anō kia peia.
Heoi anō, mēnā whakaaro ki a koe, e kare,
Ka parematatia aku ruihi, mutu ai taku pōuri.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many things I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,
And weep afresh love’s long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor’d and sorrows end.
Image: Night sky, Waimamaku, 1950s, by Eric Lee-Johnson. Purchased 1997. Te Papa. Catalogue entry here.