Waiata 9: He mea whakamāori, nā ngā Waiata a Wiremu Hākipia
A translation into Māori of William Shakespeare’s Sonnet 9
E pau ana koe i a koe anō i tō oranga takitahi
Kei māpuna ai tētahi kanohi pouaru mōu?
Auē! Mēnā ki te mate huatea koe,
Ka tangihia noatia koe e te ao me he wahine pani;
Ko te ao anō hei pouaru mōu, hei hāpai i te tangi
Kāore hoki he āhua nāu i waiho iho mō muri,
Ehara tēnei i te pouaru noa, ka tae te mau i te
Āhua o te tāne i ngā kanohi o āna tamariki:
Arohia! Ko tā te kaimoumou moni e hoko i te ao,
He nukunuku tūranga noa iho, kei te ao tonu ngā moni,
Engari, he mutunga tō te moumou ātaahua i tēnei ao:
Ki te noho huakore, ka monemone noa.
Kāore he aroha ki tāngata kē kei taua ngākau
Kei te mahi pēnei hei whakamā rawa i a ia anō.
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye,
That thou consum’st thy self in single life?
Ah! If thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children’s eyes, her husband’s shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty’s waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd’rous shame commits.
Image: Sicyos australis [māwhai], circa 1885, by Sarah Featon. Purchased 1919. Te Papa. Catalogue entry here.