Papatūanuku, my mother, is eating me alive,
Nibbling at my organs,
As if my suffering were a delicacy
That must be savoured ever so slowly.
Oh, Rūaimoko why are you shaking my bones.
Until Tangaroa, the sea, takes my soul.
Is it the scent of fear you want?
Take it now!
This wairua that once was mine.
It was always yours.
But why not let me pass gently
Into Pō’s good night.
Why must all human sins
Become my grief this night?
But before I die,
Your last wish is that I,
Bow down to you,
Oh Papatūanuku.