|| Maori Literature
Seeing as the culture of the Maori people was so heavily oratory, there was very little in the way of written Maori literature until much later. But as Europeans became more prominent on Aotearoa, there was more of a movement towards writing down the Maori language and the poems and stories which were normally spoken or performed.
One of the major players involved in the beginning of Maori literature was a man by the name of Sir George Grey. He became the governor of New Zealand in the 1850s and spearheaded a movement to document the Maori oral tradition. He feared that the language would eventually go extinct, which is what prompted him to try and save all he could of the beautiful and unique language of the Maori. He was responsible for the production of the first books of Maori oral tradition, which became an important starting point for future Maori literature.
Gradually, more Maori writers began to appear. When the most began to appear after World War II, they wrote poems and stories in English--the most notable of them knew little or nothing of the Maori traditional language. However, Maori poets gradually rediscovered, partly through academics and study, the more classic forms of Maori poetry and began returning to the Maori language. Present day, there are very few who still speak fluent Maori--perhaps only a few thousand.
There has also been a movement to collect Maori stories and poems into books for children. These would be read to or by Maori children in order for them to know their legends and mythologies. Since oral tradition is not as big as it used to be among the Maori community, this is a way for them to still pass on their culture and oral tradition. In this way, literature has helped save some of the important cultural and mythical aspects of the Maori people.
One of the major players involved in the beginning of Maori literature was a man by the name of Sir George Grey. He became the governor of New Zealand in the 1850s and spearheaded a movement to document the Maori oral tradition. He feared that the language would eventually go extinct, which is what prompted him to try and save all he could of the beautiful and unique language of the Maori. He was responsible for the production of the first books of Maori oral tradition, which became an important starting point for future Maori literature.
Gradually, more Maori writers began to appear. When the most began to appear after World War II, they wrote poems and stories in English--the most notable of them knew little or nothing of the Maori traditional language. However, Maori poets gradually rediscovered, partly through academics and study, the more classic forms of Maori poetry and began returning to the Maori language. Present day, there are very few who still speak fluent Maori--perhaps only a few thousand.
There has also been a movement to collect Maori stories and poems into books for children. These would be read to or by Maori children in order for them to know their legends and mythologies. Since oral tradition is not as big as it used to be among the Maori community, this is a way for them to still pass on their culture and oral tradition. In this way, literature has helped save some of the important cultural and mythical aspects of the Maori people.
|| Maori Song and Poetry
Below are some examples of Maori poetry, both in native Maori language and in English translation.
"Pokarekare Ana" - Maori love song
Pōkarekare ana
ngā wai o Waiapu, Whiti atu koe hine marino ana e. E hine e hoki mai ra. Ka mate ahau I te aroha e. Tuhituhi taku reta tuku atu taku rīngi, Kia kite tō iwi raru raru ana e. Whati whati taku pene ka pau aku pepa, Ko taku aroha mau tonu ana e. E kore te aroha e maroke i te rā, Mākūkū tonu i aku roimata e. |
They are agitated
the waters of Waiapu, But when you cross over girl they will be calm. Oh girl return to me, I could die of love for you. I have written my letter I have sent my ring, so that your people can see that I am troubled. My pen is shattered, I have no more paper But my love is still steadfast. My love will never be dried by the sun, It will be forever moistened by my tears. |
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"He Tangi Mō Mokowera" by Te Ati Awa
Taku hou kōtuku
Ka whati i te rā, Moenga rangatira Ki runga o Puhara’! ’A kai atu au I te tangata toro. Arā taku kai, ko Rewa, Nāna koe, e hoa, I mate ai. Ka kai Tu’, Ka kai Rangi’, Ka kai Uenuku, ē ī. |
My waving heron head-plume,
Alas, hath fallen this day On the sleeping-place of chiefs Up there on Puhara’! I now crave, as food, That man of the roving band. Over there is my food, Rewa; ’Twas he, O friend, Who caused your death. Food-offering for Tu’, Food-offering for Rangi’, Food-offering for Uenuku, (thou art) alas. |
"My Law" by Tieme Ranapiri
The sun may be clouded, yet ever the sun
Will sweep on its course till the Cycle
is run. And when into chaos the system is hurled
Again shall the Builder reshape a new world.
Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal:
Move on for your orbit is fixed to your soul.
And though it may lead into darkness of night
The torch of the Builder shall give it new light.
You were. You will be! Know this while you are:
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar.
It came from the Source, to the Source it returns
The Spark which was lighted eternally burns.
It slept in a jewel. It leapt in a wave.
It roamed in the forest. It rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years
And now in the soul of yourself It appears.
From body to body your spirit speeds on
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone
And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
On the loom of the Mind from the fibre of Thought.
As dew is drawn upwards, in rain to descend
Your thoughts drift away and in Destiny blend.
You cannot escape them, for petty or great,
Or evil or noble, they fashion your Fate.
Somewhere on some planet, sometime and somehow
Your life will reflect your thoughts of your Now.
My Law is unerring, no blood can atone
The structure you built you will live in alone.
From cycle to cycle, through time and through space
Your lives with your longings will ever keep pace
And all that you ask for, and all you desire
Must come at your bidding, as flame out of fire.
Once list’ to that Voice and all tumuIt is done
Your life is the Life of the Infinite One.
In the hurrying race you are conscious of pause
With love for the purpose, and love for the Cause.
You are your own Devil, you are your own God
You fashioned the paths your footsteps have trod.
And no one can save you from Error or Sin
Until you have hark’d to the Spirit within.
Will sweep on its course till the Cycle
is run. And when into chaos the system is hurled
Again shall the Builder reshape a new world.
Your path may be clouded, uncertain your goal:
Move on for your orbit is fixed to your soul.
And though it may lead into darkness of night
The torch of the Builder shall give it new light.
You were. You will be! Know this while you are:
Your spirit has travelled both long and afar.
It came from the Source, to the Source it returns
The Spark which was lighted eternally burns.
It slept in a jewel. It leapt in a wave.
It roamed in the forest. It rose from the grave.
It took on strange garbs for long aeons of years
And now in the soul of yourself It appears.
From body to body your spirit speeds on
It seeks a new form when the old one has gone
And the form that it finds is the fabric you wrought
On the loom of the Mind from the fibre of Thought.
As dew is drawn upwards, in rain to descend
Your thoughts drift away and in Destiny blend.
You cannot escape them, for petty or great,
Or evil or noble, they fashion your Fate.
Somewhere on some planet, sometime and somehow
Your life will reflect your thoughts of your Now.
My Law is unerring, no blood can atone
The structure you built you will live in alone.
From cycle to cycle, through time and through space
Your lives with your longings will ever keep pace
And all that you ask for, and all you desire
Must come at your bidding, as flame out of fire.
Once list’ to that Voice and all tumuIt is done
Your life is the Life of the Infinite One.
In the hurrying race you are conscious of pause
With love for the purpose, and love for the Cause.
You are your own Devil, you are your own God
You fashioned the paths your footsteps have trod.
And no one can save you from Error or Sin
Until you have hark’d to the Spirit within.