Mawak Wagemai

May a fragrance come, one that cools the fever of the heart,
my moon-doe, who lit up my eyes like a lamp,
you are just like a flower,
just like the full moon,
to me you are not a daughter, you are like a mother

I still remember how you learned to form your words,
now you are taller than me, right up high,
a face where dew-flowers have bloomed,
the way the time has passed is a wonder

you are just like a flower,
just like the full moon,
to me you are not a daughter, you are like a mother

I cannot bring myself to close my eyes and rest,
when you break down in tears, I cannot bear it,
until that heart of yours settles somewhere,
stay just a few more days

you are just like a flower,
just like the full moon,
to me you are not a daughter, you are like a mother

A tender, deeply moving song from a father to his growing daughter, sung by the veteran Sunil Edirisinghe. He calls her his moon-doe who lit up his eyes like a lamp, and reaches for the highest praise he can find: you are like a flower, like the full moon, and, tellingly, to me you are not a daughter, you are like a mother. A father sees in his child the same nurturing tenderness a mother gives.

The middle is pure parental wonder at time passing. He still remembers her learning to form her first words, and now she is taller than him, fully grown, her face like one where dew-flowers have bloomed. The way the years slipped by, he says, is simply a wonder, the quiet astonishment every parent feels watching a child become an adult.

The last verse turns to the ache of letting go, most likely of a daughter about to marry and leave. He cannot rest, cannot bear to see her cry, and makes a small, heartbreaking plea: until your heart finally settles somewhere, stay just a few more days. Beneath the pride is a father not quite ready to part with his child. Sung by Sunil Edirisinghe, it is a beloved, tear-bringing song about a father’s boundless love for his daughter and the sweetness and sorrow of watching her grow up and away.