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I met a man
who had never lived in a big city.

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His mind was still in harmony
with the valley of the spirit.

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He not only wrote songs
in the Hawaiian language,

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he thought in Hawaiian.

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For Sam, a song was a poem
made of words and earth.

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It was never written to be sold.

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It was written to celebrate a moment,
that was why he gave all his songs away,

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in the old Hawaiian manner.

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He was never famous,
and he had no desire to be.

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He was a man of an older time,
an older place.

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A man whose music and whose life
was filled with the spirit of Hawaiʻi,

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a man of aloha.