Sili Sili Seethala Alle Lyrics by Raj Seneviratne

By the cool, trickling waterfall…
the water slips and sways down, gently rocking…
let us bathe here in the blue of these mountains…
let us swing, oh swing, on our swing…//

Wrapped and lulled in a shawl of mist,
among the tender young tea shoots…
in the cold of the misty mountains at first light,
let us meet, the two of us…

By the cool, trickling waterfall…/

On the carpet of green grass the dewdrops glitter,
spread out like a sheet of pearls…
in this royal hall of bewitching, dreamed-up love,
let us meet, the two of us…

By the cool, trickling waterfall…/

A young man is calling out to the girl he loves, asking her to meet him up in the cold tea country, away from everyone else. The whole song is one tender invitation. Come away with me, he is saying, to where the water runs cold over the rocks and the mountains are blue and green, and let us be alone together.

The arc here is not heartbreak or longing for someone far away. It is a daydream of being together, and the lyricist builds it out of the high-country landscape that any Sri Lankan would picture at once. The “sili sili” of the waterfall is the soft, shivering sound of cold water trickling down, and he wants the two of them to bathe in it and to swing on the “onchillawa,” the rope swing that village children play on, which here turns the meeting into something light and playful and innocent. He is not only describing a place, he is describing the kind of carefree happiness he wants to share with her.

The images are all drawn from the misty hills where the tea grows. The mist is not just weather, he calls it a “saluwa,” a shawl that wraps and cradles them, so the cold itself becomes something gentle and protective. The “laa dalu,” the pale new tea shoots, place the lovers among the tea estates at dawn, the hour of first light when the hills are quietest. In the last verse the green grass becomes a carpet and the dewdrops scattered across it become a spread of pearls, the kind of finery you would lay out for royalty. That is why he calls their meeting place a “raja dahana,” a king’s court or throne hall. There is no real palace here. The whole grand setting is built from grass and dew and mist, and the point is that for two people in love, an ordinary morning on a cold hillside feels like a kingdom of their own.

What the listener is left with is the sweetness of an imagined meeting, the wish to slip away with someone and let the cold mountains and the mist hold the two of you. It is love at its gentlest, more about closeness and calm than passion, and the country itself, its waterfalls and tea and dawn dew, is what carries the feeling.