Yasodara Kaviyaki Umba Budunge Lyrics by Sanjeew Lonlies

As I passed near the beautiful house,
it was a rain from the cloud that stirred the dewdrops loose
it was because of that rain I came ashore at an odd hour
rain again tomorrow too, o gentle drizzle, at just this time

Our elder brother went off leaving the door ajar
a gift could be won easily, catching coconuts well
bearing her shyness, she leaned against the fence
why do you swing so high, so far, on the swing?

I am the one from over yonder who cleared the jungle’s edge,
the one who, content, sang folk verses in a loud, high voice
marking the signs of her coming-of-age on the red hopalu tree,
shall I come tomorrow, my darling, to take you home as my own?

Washing the sapumal flowers, gathering their dew,
sit and make your verses, speaking no unkind words
make ready for the rainy day to sway and flutter,
put up the frame, set out the flowers, come to the house

Not every woman binds herself in wrongdoing;
you are a poem of the Buddha’s, Yashodhara
would anyone look to see if the petals of an unbloomed flower are wet?
hold back your heat, o sun-god, and delay your journey

This is a tender, rustic courtship song, all village rain, garden swings and folk verses, that lifts its beloved to the highest praise Sinhala Buddhist culture knows. It opens in a drizzle: passing near her house, the singer says, a passing rain shook the dewdrops loose, and it was that rain that gave him his excuse to arrive at an odd hour, so he prays for the gentle domba drizzle to fall again tomorrow at the very same time, so he can come once more.

The middle is pure village flirtation. The elder brother has left the door ajar; there are coconuts to be won; and there she is, shy, leaning on the fence, swinging high on the onchillawa, the garden swing. He introduces himself in the same breath, the lad from over the way who cleared the jungle’s edge and sang folk poems in a loud, happy voice, and, noticing she has come of age, asks the real question hiding inside all the teasing: shall I come tomorrow, my darling, to take you home as my own?

The refrain turns courtship into reverence. Not every woman, he says, binds herself in wrongdoing, and then the line that names the song: you are a poem of the Buddha’s, Yashodhara, comparing her to the Buddha’s faithful wife, the very ideal of virtue and devotion. Would anyone, he asks, really check whether the petals of an unopened flower are wet, that is, doubt the purity of someone so plainly pure? He ends by begging the sun-god himself to hold back the heat and delay his journey, to make the day with her last longer. Sung by Sanjeew Lonlies to words by Sooriya Sihabahu, it is a village love song that treats an ordinary sweetheart as something sacred.