Waikato Is
The River

Dip in the water
as it surges at the mouth.
Waikato is the river:
At every bend there lives a chief.

Be careful lest you capsize
for the currents are strong
in the Waikato.
Fix your gaze on the distance
Where Taupiri is the mountain
and Koroki the man.

Paddle your canoe to Ngaruawahia,
to Turangawaewae;
the heart of the kingdom
where Matutaera finished
his lament.
Alas, let me grieve also.

Paddle on
till you reach Cambridge,
the Okahoroi of ancestors.

Still paddle on
then rest at Karapiro.
Now cast your eyes upwards
to the peak of Ihingarangi.

Enough of paddling!
Lift your gaze even higher
to Maungatautare,
to the Ngati-Koroki,
to Arapuni—the district of eels.

Go up
to Waipapa, Maraetai, Whakamaru,
Titiraupenga—the mountain
for birds,
The territory of Ngati-Raukawa,
Oh friend.

Float on the Pohatunoa.
Look up to its summit.
There a battlefield was spread
in the days of long ago.

Follow the waterway of your
ancestor, Tia,
whose guide for his journey
was Atiamuri behind him.

Go gently on to Ohakuri,
the entrance to Orakei-Korako;
the district of hot springs
and blustering abysses.

Haul your canoe
up Tia's steep difficult ascent,
and encounter the foaming fall
where your ancestor,
Takatea pokaiwhenua, overturned.

Behold now!
As the swift bird darts
through the sky,
so enter on to the calm
waters of Taupo-nui-a-Tia.