Jeewithema Nawathila Lyrics

Life itself has stopped,
the whole of life has stopped,
life itself has stopped,
the whole of life has stopped

The dreams I chased, one after another,
laid out right before the eyes,
scattered like a little heap of ash,
gone into a cave in utter solitude,
the whole of life has stopped

The wind blows as it did back then, over a hand that thought to ease its weariness,
the flock of birds, as back then, drunk and free on the sound of song,
holding and embracing one another tightly,
tangled up in self-desire, they sit,
that great crowd of people is trapped,
that great crowd of people is trapped

The sun rises as before, waking flowers in the valley,
the river flows as before, moonbeams streaming in the far sky,
their blood-tears have run dry,
walking the daylight like ghosts,
that great crowd of people is trapped,
that great crowd of people is trapped

Life itself has stopped,
the whole of life has stopped

The dreams I chased, one after another,
laid out right before the eyes,
scattered like a little heap of ash,
gone into a cave in utter solitude,
the whole of life has stopped,
the whole of life has stopped…

A stark, existential song about a life that has come to a standstill. Its refrain, the whole of life has stopped, repeats like a heartbeat gone still. The dreams the singer chased one after another, laid out right before his eyes, have scattered like a little heap of ash; and he has gone into a cave in utter solitude. Ambition has burned down to nothing, and he has withdrawn from the world entirely.

The middle widens from the self to society, and the verdict is bleak. The wind still blows, the birds are still drunk and free on the sound of song, nature carries on exactly as before; but the people, holding and embracing one another tightly, tangled up in self-desire (aatma raga), are trapped. The natural world stays free while humanity is caged by its own craving.

The last verse sharpens the contrast to a chill. The sun still wakes flowers, the river still runs under streaming moonbeams, but the people’s blood-tears have run dry and they walk the daylight like ghosts, alive in body, dead in spirit, that great crowd still trapped. Sung by Mihindu Ariyaratne to words by Chaaminda Rathnasuriya, it is a haunting, philosophical song about a life, and a whole society, brought to a halt by craving and solitude, moving through a still-beautiful world like the walking dead.