Horen Bala Kiyapana Deta Wada Lyrics by Jude Rogans

La la la……

You looked at me on the sly and said it with your eyes
The feelings that filled your eyes were hidden away
With teasing little glances, you kept looking at me
When the moon rose, I remembered you

White snow falling soft and fine
My mind drifts off in the cold dew….

White snow falling soft and fine
My mind drifts off in the cold dew….
Sighs grow deeper, feelings rise up
I won my dream, my moon-flower

In the dew, a soft, innocent smile..
It floated far away like sand ha…

In the dew, a soft, innocent smile..
It floated far away like sand ha…
Never ending, still wishing my wishes
I won my dream, my moon-flower

A young man is turning over a memory of the girl he loves, the kind of memory that comes back to you on a quiet night. It starts with a look she gave him, one of those sidelong glances you steal when you don’t dare say anything out loud. She never put the feeling into words, but her eyes carried it, even as she tried to hide it behind a few teasing looks. He noticed all of it, and now, every time the moon comes up, the whole thing returns to him.

The middle of the song moves into something dreamier and softer. He pictures fine white snow drifting down and his mind floating off in the cool morning dew. Sri Lanka has no snow, so the image isn’t literal, it stands for something pure, gentle and quiet, a calm settling over him as the memory takes hold. In that dreamy space his sighs grow deeper and his feelings rise, and he says he won his “sandamali,” his moon-flower. That word does double work here, it is both the soft name a Sinhala lover gives his beloved and the picture of her as something delicate and lovely lit by moonlight. In our songs the moon is the standing image for a calm, cooling beauty, a face that soothes rather than dazzles, so calling her his moon-flower says she is the gentle, settling presence in his heart.

Then the ache slips in. He remembers her shy, milk-sweet smile, the kind of innocent smile that melts you, and in the same breath he says it floated away like sand. Sand is the perfect picture for something you can’t hold on to, it slips right through your fingers no matter how tight you close your hand. So the smile he loved is also the thing he has lost, or fears he is losing, drifting just out of reach.

What the listener is left holding is that tender ache of a love kept mostly in glances and dreams. He keeps wishing, with no end to it, and he keeps telling himself he won her, his moon-flower, even as her smile drifts away like sand. It is the sweet, sad feeling of holding someone close in memory while she stays just beyond your grasp.