Yanna Rata Wate Lyrics by Desmond De Silva

(Travel around the country, come with me, my love, through beautiful Sri Lanka,
to Sigiriya’s mirror wall, the land of the three Sinhala kingdoms,
the up-country hills and the Dumbara valley below, with the pearl-string sea all around,
to Anuradhapura, like moonlight in the bloom of youth)…//

La la-la-la la la la la la la, moonlight on the Kala Wewa tank,
la la la-la la, the three Sinhala kingdoms,
la la-la-la la la la la la la, around the bund of the Tissa Wewa tank,
la la la-la la, the three Sinhala kingdoms…

The village, the temple, the tank and the dagaba, this Sinhala soil of mine,
in beautiful Sri Lanka, this golden island,
where the ringing of bells spreads from the shrine and the Kataragama kovil,
in beautiful Sri Lanka, this golden island…

(La la-la-la la la la la la la, moonlight on the Kala Wewa tank,
la la la-la la, the three Sinhala kingdoms,
la la-la-la la la la la la la, around the bund of the Tissa Wewa tank,
la la la-la la, the three Sinhala kingdoms)…//

This is a love song for the whole country, dressed up as an invitation to travel. The singer calls out to his “priye,” his love, and asks her to come with him on a journey right around Sri Lanka, and as they go he points out one famous place after another. It plays like a tour of the island set to music, the kind of song you hum on a long drive home, proud of where you come from.

The places he names are the landmarks every Sri Lankan grows up knowing. Sigiriya’s “katapath pawura” is the ancient mirror wall of the rock fortress, polished so smooth that visitors once saw their faces in it. He calls the heart of the country the “thun Sinhalaye,” the three old Sinhala kingdoms, then sweeps from the cool up-country hills of Kandy down to the green Dumbara valley, with the sea ringed around the whole island like a string of pearls. When he reaches Anuradhapura, the old sacred capital, he compares it to “sandapana wage” in the bloom of youth, soft moonlight at its most beautiful, the way you would describe a young face you cannot stop looking at. That is the tenderness running underneath the geography: he loves this land the way you love a person.

The middle verse turns to the things that make a Sinhala home. “Gamai, pansalai, wewai, dagabai,” the village, the temple, the irrigation tank and the dagaba (the white Buddhist stupa), are listed together because for centuries they belonged together, a village built around its tank that watered the fields and its temple that held the community. The Kala Wewa and Tissa Wewa he sings about are real ancient reservoirs, engineering marvels still in use, and to picture moonlight on their water and a walk along the bund is to picture the quiet beauty of the old dry-zone kingdoms. Then the bells of the “deva mandire” and the Kataragama kovil ring out, a Hindu shrine sitting comfortably in the same breath as the Buddhist temple, a small picture of the island’s mixed faith.

By the end you understand why people have loved this song for so long. It does not argue or preach. It simply walks you through “this golden island,” the “ran diwaina,” and lets the names of the places do the work, so that anyone who has stood at Sigiriya or watched the sun set over a village tank feels a tug of home. For a listener far from Sri Lanka, it is a way to travel back in four minutes.