A few steps further and I am looking, For the last time to the south. My wandering spirit turns from here, To Reinga in the north. In the path of hosts, I march, Along the well-defined trail, Past rolling, roaring, western breakers, Near the homes of my lifetime. Past other cherished hilltop pa, Whose story to me is known. Where I have spent happy hours, Standing as the sentries stood, Gazing keenly about me. Ah, old friends, are you with me now? You who taught me much, and you, and you? Yes, as my life force leaves me, You are again all with me, my true companions. The lakes of Kaipara now I see. Cold lakes and very blue, Fashioned by the footprints of Kawharu. Your appearance in life, did chill me, But now at the coming of death, You seem strangely friendly. The rough and white-capped Whititoa, The crossing place of the brave, I now must face to reach the further shore. Another long and lonely strand. Moremoremonui, where my ancestors fought, And beat Ngapuhi, before the days of muskets. Maunganui, frowning bluff, Set in the domain of Ripiro. This, the first home of the toheroa, Planted here by Tua. It is no good Doctor, to feel my pulse, Shake your wise young head, look sad. I need you no more where I am going, Ask those foolish people why they weep? I am to the stream of Waipoua come, I leave the sand for the forest, Scented, green and cool, Drawn by the kehua faintly calling, From their thick ropey swings of supplejack. As one about to share their world, I answer gladly, their cries. In my nostrils now, the smell of leaves, Ah, in life, how I loved this! Decaying leaves, warm plants, damp soil, The smells of life and death. The beginning and the ending. I stoop once more to spy, The little kokopu of the bush stream. The backward moving koura, And the long, black, horned tuna. Aue! Who is that calling me? It is not my children, friends or kehua. E! It is the host of relations, Long since dead. Calling me gently, mournfully, insistently. With no further backward glance, I must press on and on, To join their ranks. What is that you say parson? Your God? He has been my light and my salvation, He may help me now, I know not. I'm thinking on the words of my grandfather, The beliefs of his father and before him, His father also. You cannot hear me? No matter. My track is alien now. I do not know this shore. This golden sand is strange, That tiny pierced island, I never saw it before. I bend to tie the sandgrass. To tie it in a knot, So that the living may see it and know, That another soul has passed this way. The hills rise high ahead. Speed on my wairua, speed on! Through ferny valley And red-soil hills. Hark, I hear the coast again. I see Reinga below. I see that sacred tree. Pohutukawa, always have I loved you, Daughter of the ocean, Mistress of the sea. Casting your crimson mantle, On many a Summer shore. I hear the sea pounding, Pounding, pounding, in my ears. My feet feel the slippery rocks, And always the voices call. Ah! There at the ancient root, Of this sea-laved tree, I see them! Their arms upstretched, I hear them shout. I come, Haeremai, Haeremai, I come!