Kiriana - Heaven of words (Aborigines Maori Type) (Offizielles Musikvideo)

Heaven of words

The air above the red sand was still shivering from the heat of the day as Kiri scribbled the last lines in her notebook. In front of her lay the vast land, colored red by the evening sun, behind her the sound of the Tasman Sea. Two hearts were beating in her.

Her grandfather, a Māori sage from Aotearoa, had taught her the *whakapapa*, the unbreakable bond of ancestors that ran through every breath. Her grandmother, an elder of the Warlpiri, had led her to the *tjurkurang*, the dream path where every song was a map and every word a footprint.

Kiri was the living hub of these two ropes. In her childhood, the languages had flowed through her like two separate streams – one full of wave-tossing vowels, the other a harsh, earthy sound. But in recent years, especially since both grandparents had entered the land of Spirits, they had begun to merge in it. It was not a mess, but a fusion, like two rivers meeting in the ocean.

The inspiration for the song had come in a dream. She had seen her grandfather singing a *waiata* (song), while her grandmother was drawing patterns in the sand with a stick that resembled the paths of star formation. The lines and the melody had connected, had become a network of sound and meaning, a *heaven of words*.

She began to sing softly, her voice an instrument that embraced both worlds.

"*Ko te rangi e whakapiri ana...*"

(The heavens that embrace each other...)

She sang about the winds that whispered in ancient Kauri trees and at the same time carried the stories about the red desert plains – *Ngā kupu o ngā tupuna*. She saw the shadows of the dreamtime dancing with the clear light of the New Zealand dawn, a country where spirits did not fight, but united.

The refrain did not originate as a pure Māori or pure Warlpiri phrase. It was a secret third language that only her heart knew. "*Waiata-tjina*," she whispered - song-secret. "*Korero tjurkurang*" - Speak dream path. It was the sound of the connection itself, an echo on the sacred ground, where old and new were inextricably intertwined.

She got up and walked slowly towards the cliff. Every step left an invisible *Tjina*, a footprint of memory in the earth. Her *Manawa puku*, her deepest breath, was the place where all the stories began. At that moment she heard the songs of the Waikato River and the crying of Uluru in the same breath under an immeasurable, star-speckled sky.

The bridge of the song was not a question, but a statement. "*Whakapapa meets tjurkurang.*" Ahnenlinie meets Traumpfad. It was a fusion that was stronger than any anger, a bond that linked Aotearoa to the red plains in rhythmic chains of love and heritage.

As she sang the last, combined chorus, she felt a burden come off her shoulders. "*Waiata-tjina, tjurkurang-waiata.*" Lied-Geheimnis, Traumpfad-Lied. It was not a farewell, but a passing on. She carried this fused voice now over the sea of time. It was a mingled tongue, freed from the expectation of belonging to only one truth, forever free.

The sun sank into the sea. Kiri took a deep breath. In the stillness of the dawning evening she heard the whispering.

*E hika, e hika...* Oh child, oh child…
*Tjina remains...* The footprint remains…
*Marama shines...* The light shines…
*Whakapapa is growing...* The ancestral line is growing…
*In each line…*

She closed her notebook. The sky of words was not above. He was here, in her bosom, a living, breathing legacy that shone on in every syllable of her being.

Lyrics written Kai-Dominik Bertha (ELAG ERFURT)

Copyright by Radio PTR

Radio PTR Inc. Slowakei
Most SNP, 851 01 Bratislava

#aborigines #maorí #australien #newzealand

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• Zverejnené: 29.5.2026 20:48
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