intro volcano report: Pele, mother

Ho! mountain of vapor-puffs,
Now groans the mountain-apple tree.
Alas! I burn in this deathless flame,
That is fed by the woman who snores
On a lava plate, now hot, now cold;
Now ’tis a canoe full-rigged for sea:
There are seats at the bow, amidships, abaft;
Baggage and men--all is aboard.

Alas, there's no stay to the smoke:
I must die mid the quenchless flame--
Deed of the hag who snores in her sleep,
Bedded on lava plate oven-hot.
Now it takes the shape of canoe;

Seats at the bow and amidships,
And the steersman sitting astern;
Their stroke stirs the ocean to foam--
The myth-craft, Kau-meli-eli!
Now look, the white gleam of an eye--
It is Nihéu, the turbulent one--
An eye like the white sandy shore.
Amen, possess me!