In the air at night,                                                  

A child flying with his father,

Observing the aurora, the northern lights.        

Sprouting through the light,

These avenging clouds, swirling, sucking, consuming,in swarming masses,

Beneath rising its ugly head clear of purpose yet cruelty in its form,

Descends small droplets and silent ever-present Moon,  And sighing at hand, only just a little to the side,

Dances the soft Hawai'i hula.

From the soft sand on the beach the child holding the hand of his father,                                                

Those fetching-clouds that raise fists to grab all,        

Watching, blindly weeps.

I give you something son more immortal than lights, even then the stars enduring longer than ever...

I give you myself.