Nuba Daka Mage Sitha Baduna Kisi Dina Lyrics by Lakshman Hilmi

Seeing you, my heart was caught and will never come loose,
held fast so it can never slip away, my pearl, my jewel.
You are enough for me, my own life is enough,
nothing has changed at all, my jewel.

What use is a king’s comfort if you are not by my side?
You are a queen to me, my fair one.
Watching for the lucky hour in the month of Navam,
I made up my mind to marry you.

Plucking flowers and weaving them into garlands,
I will fasten them around your head.
Taking a chintz cloth scattered with red flowers,
I will wrap it about your waist.
For that graceful, swaying walk of yours
I wrote my verses.
O gentle one, O tender one,
I wrote my verses.

The millet has ripened to a golden shade,
swaying there in the breeze.

Thinking of the days you will come carrying the harvest,
my heart opens and softens.
I will build a little hut out in the chena field
and settle you there.
You will become the queen of my plot of land,
and bring its good fortune in with you.

A young farmer is in love, and this is his promise to the girl he wants to marry. From the moment he saw her, he says, his heart was caught and will never come loose. He calls her his pearl and his jewel, the two words a village man reaches for when a woman is precious to him, and he tells her plainly that she alone is enough. He does not want riches or a king’s comfort. Without her, none of it would mean anything, and with her, he already feels like a man with a queen beside him.

The song lives in the world of the paddy and the chena, the rural Sri Lanka of farming and the seasons, and that is the key to its tenderness. When he says he is watching for the lucky hour in the month of Navam (around February, a time tied to auspicious dates), he is doing what couples have always done before a wedding, choosing the right moment by the old reckoning. His gifts are not gold or money but the things a farmer can actually give: garlands he plucks and weaves himself, a printed chintz cloth dotted with red flowers to tie at her waist, and verses written just for the gentle sway of her walk. This is courtship the village way, made of flowers, cloth, and song rather than wealth.

Then he points to the field itself. The kurakkan (finger millet) has ripened to gold and bends in the wind, and that ripe, golden crop is his quiet way of saying the harvest is good and he can provide, that he is ready to start a life. He pictures the days she will come carrying the gathered grain, and his heart softens at the thought. He will put up a small watch hut in the chena and keep her there with him, and she will be the queen of his little patch of land.

The last line carries the warmest meaning of all. He says she will bring in Sirikatha, the prosperity tied to the goddess of fortune and the abundance of the home. In village belief a good wife brings luck and plenty to the household, so when he calls her the queen of his field and says she brings its fortune with her, he is telling her she is not just someone he loves but the very thing that will make his land and his life flourish. It is a humble, hopeful song, a poor man offering everything he has, which is the field, the harvest, and his whole heart.