I whakakoia ai kia nui, ai te parekura: i orohia ai kia uira ai. Kia koa koia tatou? ko te tokotoko ia o taku tama e whakahawea ana ki nga rakau katoa.
it is sharpened that it may make a slaughter; it is furbished that it may be as lightning: shall we then make mirth? the rod of my son, it condemns every tree.
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