Sanda Haadu Didi Lyrics by Chandana Liyanarachchi

The moon kisses the clouds, on a bed of silk,
in the love-realm of the blue star princesses.
Are you still asleep,
are you still asleep, my kadupul flower goddess?

The jasmine vine bower sits with its eyes closed,
the soft heart of the flower gives its sheltering bed to the bees,
not even the faintest smile at the corner of her lips, the goddess sleeps on.

The moon kisses the clouds, on a bed of silk…

On the face of the lake silver ripples rise and break into a dance,
with a soft gentle smile the lovely white water lily will open,
I’m so alone, my heart feels empty, and still you sleep.

The moon kisses the clouds, on a bed of silk…

A young man sits awake in the dead of night, watching over the girl he loves while she sleeps, and the whole song is him gazing at her and at the quiet world around her. He doesn’t name her plainly. He calls her a kadupul flower goddess, and that one image carries the heart of the song. The kadupul is the night-blooming cereus, a flower that opens only after dark and only for a few hours before it fades. To call her that is to say she is rare, delicate, and most beautiful in this still nighttime hour, something you are lucky just to be near while it lasts.

He paints the sky like a soft, sleepy kingdom so she fits inside it. The moon leans in and kisses the clouds as if resting on a bed of silk, and the blue stars become princesses with their own little realm of love. Against all that gentleness he keeps asking the same tender question, are you still asleep? Even the jasmine vines around her have closed their eyes for the night, the flowers have folded the bees into their soft centers like a bed, and not the smallest smile crosses her lips. Everything is hushed and folded inward, and she is the deepest asleep of all.

Then he looks to the lake. Silver ripples lift and shimmer across the water like a quiet dance, and he imagines the white water lily, the kaumudi, opening with a soft smile of its own. In Sinhala song the water lily that blooms at night is the moon’s own flower, a picture of calm, pure beauty waking gently in the dark. He is surrounding her with these blooming, smiling things on purpose, hoping she might stir and smile too.

But she sleeps on, and the last line is where the longing finally shows. For all the beauty he has been describing, he admits he is lonely and his heart feels empty, because the one person he wants awake beside him is still lost in sleep. That is the ache underneath the soft imagery. He could wake her, but instead he watches and waits, content to keep this fragile, lovely night a little longer even as it leaves him alone in it.