Te Rā e Tākiri ana: He mea whakamāori nā John Donne i tito
A translation into Māori of John Donne’s ‘The Sun Rising’
Tērā te rā e hāpaia ana mai…
Auē, Tamanui, he aha hoki tāu?He aha koe e karanga mai ai ki a māua neiMā te matapihi me te ārai? Tō ihu e…Me tuohu rānei ngā ipo ki ō takahuri?Kātahi taru te whawhewhawhe!Pī-owha! Ko wē! Kowhete ai iNgā tamariki e takaroa ana ki te kura.Haere atu ki te karanga i ngā kaipāmuKi ā rātou mahi hauhake. Kore rawa te aroha e mōhio ki ngā kaupeka,Ki ngā wāhi, ngā hāora, ngā rangi, ngā marama rānei —Ko ēnei ngā kanukanu kau o te wā.He mārama taiahoaho ōu hihi?Te puku koe!Kua wetohia noatia koe e tēnei kamo kotahi,Mei kore ake taku tirohanga atu ki taku ipo.Mēnā kāore anō kia whakamatapōhia koeE ōna karu, kimihia atu ngā Īnia e rua, Hei āpōpō, kīia mai ai ki ahau,Ka tū tonu rānei rāua kei ō rāua tūranga tūturu,Kei te takoto tahi rānei i taku moenga nei.Tonoa atu ērā kīngi kua kitea nōnanahi, ka rongo koe:Kei te moe katoa i te moenga kotahi nei. Ko taku ipo, ko ngā whenua, ko ngā pirinihi katoa,Korekau rawa he mea atu. Ko tā ngā pirinihi, he whakatau noa iho i a māua;Kāore he mea hei whakarite i a māua,Ko te hōnore he tāwhai, ko te moni he parau. Heoi, e Tama, he hāwhe noa tō harikoa i tō māua, Kua tāroitia pēneitia hoki te ao nei. E tauheke haere koe, e Tama, kua ngenge koroua.Ko tāu he whakamahana i te ao, ā, Ka riro māu e whakamahana i a māua.Aho mai rā ki a māua,Ka toro koe ki te ao katoa. Ko te moenga nei Hei poupoutanga mōu,Ko te rūma nei tōu rangi. Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school boys and sour prentice,
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride,
Call country ants to harvest offices,
Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Thy beams, so reverend and strong
Why shouldst thou think?
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,
But that I would not lose her sight so long;
If her eyes have not blinded thine,
Look and tomorrow late, tell me,
Whether both th’Indias of spice and mine
Be where thou leftest them, or lie here with me.
Ask for those kings whom thou saw’s yesterday,
And thou shalt hear, All here in one bed lay.
She’s all states, and all princes, I,
Nothing else is.
Princes do but play us; compared to this,
All honour’s mimic, all wealth alchemy.
Thou, sun, art half as happy as we,
In that the world’s contracted thus.
Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be
to warm the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.
Image: Newspaper graphic captioned ‘Various Parts of Globe in which Paradise has been Located’, printed with ‘The Situation of Eden’, The Auckland Star, 20 December 1902, p.1.
Accessible here.