Budun Wadim Lyrics (බුදුන් වඳිම්) by Sunil Santha

I worship the Buddha, today is Vesak Poya
with incense and flowers I make offering and worship in devotion
the fragrance of lotus drifts by
the air fills with scented smoke, today is the festival day

Worshipping the Buddha, worshipping the Dhamma, worshipping the Sangha
our great festival day

The whiteness of the moon flows through my daylight
drifting slowly, gliding toward the temple
it is seen on every side
my great heart too is white, today is the festival day

Worshipping the Buddha, worshipping the Dhamma, worshipping the Sangha
our great festival day

The sound of hewisi drums and horns is heard
and the bell rings out in the midst of it
“Sadhu, Sadhu” the people cry
a line of the Dhamma is heard, today is the festival day

Worshipping the Buddha, worshipping the Dhamma, worshipping the Sangha
our great festival day

Bathed in milk, the stupa gleams in the night
the Bo-tree courtyard shines with rows of lamps
nearby, the Dhamma is being preached
a soft “sil, sil” is felt in the air, today is the festival day
and within the heart, sil grows
Worshipping the Buddha, worshipping the Dhamma, worshipping the Sangha
our great festival day

This is a Vesak devotional, and it moves through the sights and sounds of the sacred full-moon day the way a worshipper actually experiences them at the temple. It begins simply and personally: “I worship the Buddha, today is Vesak Poya,” offering incense and flowers “in devotion,” with the fragrance of lotus and scented smoke filling the air. The refrain names the three refuges the whole day honours, the Buddha, the Dhamma and the Sangha, on “our great festival day.”

The imagery keeps returning to whiteness, which in Buddhism is the colour of purity. The white moonlight “flows through the daylight” and drifts toward the temple, and in a lovely turn the singer says his own “great heart too is white,” the outer purity of Vesak mirrored by an inner one. Then the temple comes alive with sound: the hewisi drums and horns, the ringing bell, and the crowd’s cry of “Sadhu, Sadhu,” the blessing that greets every act of merit.

The final verse is pure Vesak night. The stupa is “bathed in milk” and gleams, the Bo-tree courtyard shines “with rows of lamps,” the pahan-pandal lights every Sri Lankan knows, and a sermon is heard nearby, the soft murmur of “sil, sil” drifting through the air. The song ends on its quiet point: even as all this beauty surrounds him, “within the heart, sil grows.” What the listener is left with is Vesak as both spectacle and inner practice, the lamps, milk-white stupa and drums on the outside, and the steady deepening of virtue within.