Fiyona

Fiyona, today is the highest day of the story,
in a meditation of eyebrows and red lips,
I remember how you sat there,
the sweet war that raises the hair on the skin,
it was you who kindled it,
Fiyona, today in the story I am, as it were, without a crown

A conversation met by chance,
an unexpressed ache,
how did it die and leave that behind?
even in dreams, it burns the heart

Though it was you who became the love-messenger,
the wonder is that I was not the messenger,
still, within this letter of tidings,
I keep searching for who I am

A poetic, faintly enigmatic love song addressed throughout to a woman named Fiyona. Today, the singer says, is the highest day of the story, a peak, a turning point, and he remembers her sitting in a meditation of eyebrows and red lips, her face itself a kind of trance. She was the one who kindled the sweet war that raises the hair on the skin, the thrill of desire, and yet today, in the story, he feels as if without a crown, dethroned and undone.

The middle names the wound. Theirs was a conversation met by chance that left behind an unexpressed ache; how, he wonders, did it die and leave that pain behind, a pain that burns his heart even in dreams. Something real began and was never spoken, and its unfinishedness haunts him.

The close is quietly philosophical. Though Fiyona became the love-messenger, the strange thing, he says, is that he was not the messenger in return; and still, inside this letter of tidings, this sandesha, he keeps searching for who he even is. Sung by Pramod Kalhara, composed by Tharindu Damsara to words by Nimesh Sukumal Jayawardhane, it is a dreamy, literary love song about a chance-met love, its unspoken ache, and a lover left searching for himself inside the story.