This shell has pockmarks and barnacle bumps
on its rough elephant hide back,
protecting the abalone that once lived
there. The roof inside is smooth,
shining, with running rivers of violet,
green and blue: as spectacular as the Sistine chapel.
Maori priests placed polished paua slivers
for eyes on effigies of their dead
to help them see in spirit lands.
Cool colours soothe burning fires.
Now, tourists wear paua in their ear
and strange sea shanties hear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem