The bloom of the rata is shed, its leaves withered and its trunk dry and lifeless; its lifeblood has drained away through the root to the body of Mother Earth from which it sprang.
Depart, Tipene, pass on to that Other World to be with your ancestors and those of our people who have gone before, along the path that chiefs, kings and leaders all must tread. Farewell, farewell.
The branches of the sheltering totara of the Great Forest of Tane are broken. The lofty mountains that were, are levelled to the dust.
Depart, dear friend, from the strivings and the labours for your people that you shared with Sir Eruera Tirikatene. Pass on to the Po. the Great Unknown of our ancestors, the long the unseen Po, and on to the dark Po, the Po of intense blackness, the ever-changing Po. and so to the ultimate Po, there to find deep sleep and rest. Farewell, farewell, farewell.
My sympathy goes out to your wife and family.
Our sympathy goes out to you, his wife, and to your children. Today, the mantle of responsibility rests upon your shoulders.
‘From nature's storms one may find shelter; from the storms of life there is no shelter.’