Kimada Sumihiriye Lyrics by CT Fernando

What is this wonder, my sweet one,
that wakes up my whole heart?
The glow that rises in your eyes,
I don’t know its secret…//

The way you come to me, like a shadow,
I feel it always, in secret.
Your soft lips trembling, saying nothing,
why do you slip away so quickly?
Every morning, alone, like this,
every morning, alone, like this,
dear girl, I meet you.
The loving thought, the smile full of grace,
they bring my heart such comfort….

What is this wonder, my sweet one…/

A curl of hair falls across your forehead,
cool against your innocent face.
The wildflowers have bloomed, grown heavy and bowed down,
my jewel comes near to me.
When I see your heart,
when I see your heart,
the sorrow dies and joy comes alive.
You left, while I sat watching.
Should I treasure you, tell me, my darling…..

What is this wonder, my sweet one…//

A young man wakes each morning to the same gentle ache. There is a girl he is taken with, and just the glow in her eyes is enough to stir his whole heart awake. He cannot quite name what is happening to him, so the song opens with a question to her: what is this wonder, sweet one, that does this to me? That puzzled, happy feeling, not knowing the secret behind her look but wanting to, is the heart of the whole song.

She comes to him quietly, and he likens it to a shadow, something that arrives soft and close without a sound. Each morning he meets her in that same private way, her soft lips trembling as if she means to speak, then she slips off before a word comes. He is left alone again, but not unhappy, because even the memory of her, the loving thought and that smile he calls full of grace, is enough to comfort him through the day.

Then come the small, exact details a Sri Lankan listener pictures at once. A curl of hair falling across her forehead, cool against an innocent young face. The image of the wildflowers is the loveliest touch: flowers that have bloomed so fully they grow heavy and bend low on the stem, and in the same breath he says his jewel leans in close to him. The bowing, blossom-laden branch becomes the girl drawing near, ripe and shy and tender, beauty so full it tips toward him. Calling her his jewel, his manike, is the old Sinhala endearment for someone precious and rare.

By the end the feeling has settled. One look at her heart and his sorrow lifts and turns to joy. Yet she has gone again, leaving him sitting and watching her go, and so he closes with the question the whole song has been circling: should I hold you dear, my darling, tell me. It is the sweetness of early love, the kind that visits every morning, asks for nothing certain, and is content just to wonder.