Baana Samanale Indapan

Come and watch the boats on the Kelani river,
come down, dragonfly,
wade into the cold stream and walk,
come dive into the river water,
worshipping the summit of Samanala peak,
coming with the protection of god Saman,
share out the plank-houses
along the riverbank, and stay

The great ocean is not far off now,
the depth is not what it used to be either,
a good way before the river mouth,
there is no shortage of the taste of salt,
now there is no merit left in tasting it,
do not even think of touching your tongue to it,
the big hospital beds
are filled up, with no room to spare

If you are waiting, thinking
to drink a cupped handful of water, because it is cold,
go back again to Sri Pada,
where the water still has its goodness,
in how many days will it become like this here?,
we, for our part, do not know now,
just stay up on the dragonfly-rock,
there are no boats on the Kelani anymore

A gentle but pointed environmental song about the pollution of the Kelani, one of Sri Lanka’s great rivers, addressed to a dragonfly invited to come and play in it. It opens like an innocent invitation: come watch the boats, wade in the cold stream, dive into the water, come down with the protection of god Saman from Samanala peak, and settle along the riverbank. It sounds, at first, like a hymn to a living river.

The second verse turns dark and ironic. Near the sea now, the river has changed, the depth is not what it used to be, and long before the river mouth there is no shortage of the taste of salt. Then the warning sharpens: there is no merit left in tasting the water, do not even touch your tongue to it, because the big hospital beds are filled up, with no room to spare. The poisoned river has become a source of sickness.

The close is quietly devastating advice. If the dragonfly wants clean, cold water to drink, it should go back again to Sri Pada, to the mountain source where the water still has its goodness, because down here, no one knows how many days are left before that, too, is ruined. And the last line lands the loss: just stay up on the rock, there are no boats on the Kelani anymore. Sung by Kethaki Suraweera, composed by Tharindu Damsara to words by Sahampathi Weerasuriya, it is a tender, sorrowful environmental song that mourns a beloved river poisoned from mouth to source, warning even a dragonfly to stay away.