Hush now, little one, hear the dark earth sing,

Across ancient lava fields cooled by spring.

Black rock turned to pathways, rough edges made wise, Teaching how endings can open new skies.

 

Hāmau nō, kuʻu pēpē, lohe i ka honua ʻeleʻele e mele nei, Ma luna o nā pāhoehoe kahiko i anu i ka wai puna.

Ua lilo ka pōhaku ʻeleʻele i ala hele, ua akamai nā kihi ʻoi, Ke aʻo mai nei, hiki i nā hopena ke wehe i nā lani hou.

 

Sleep now, little soul, hear the waterfall’s tune,

Silver threads falling beneath the moon.

It teaches surrender, release and flow,

How letting things leave helps new gardens grow.

 

E hiamoe nō, kuʻu ʻuhane liʻiliʻi, lohe i ke mele a ka wailele, Nā kaula kālā e hāʻule ana ma lalo o ka mahina.

Ke aʻo mai nei ia i ka hoʻokuʻu, ka waiho, ka kahe mālie,

Ke haʻalele nā mea kahiko, ulu hou nā māla hou.

 

So sleep, little heart, all of it true—

The river, the fire, the storm, the blue.

Teachers and mirrors, each path you trod,

Guiding you gently back home to God.

 

No laila e hiamoe, kuʻu puʻuwai liʻiliʻi, he ʻoiaʻiʻo kēia a pau,

Ka muliwai, ke ahi, ka ʻino, ka lani uliuli.

He poʻe kumu, he mau aniani, kēlā ala āu i hele ai,

Ke alakaʻi mālie nei iā ʻoe i ka home i ke Akua.

 

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E hoʻi mālie ʻoe i ka home,

E hoʻi mālie ʻoe i ka mālamalama,

E hoʻi mālie ʻoe i ke aloha mau loa.