Ran Wan Palasin Lyrics

On a golden carpet, with a calm and easy gait, the sun goes down in the west
amid many wonders, a flock of swallows takes flight through it all
the shape of a startled boat’s sail frets in a single spot
from a sea washed in colour, the “ho, ho, ho” comes on in an unbroken chain

In the middle of a paddy field, a farmer gazes in contentment at his crop’s beauty
with a “ho, ho” call a village boy comes driving his cattle home
from far, far away a folk-verse song comes echoing on
a flock of waterfowl, in a hurry, go off in search of their roost

Vegetables and fruits weigh down the trees and vines, the home gardens brim over
young and grown and old, all together, pour out their sweat
someone, softly, softly, whispers a secret
in a jasmine flower a honeybee washes its little mouth

How lovely and serene it is, the village grows fair and fine
prosperity, the field of merit, spreads goodwill, brimming over like boiling milk
into village life a whole new life comes rolling in
this good dream I have seen, right here beside me, is coming exactly true

This is a pastoral idyll, a loving painting of a Sinhala village at the close of day. It opens with one of the loveliest images in the tradition: the setting sun moving “on a golden carpet, with a calm and easy gait,” down into the west. Around it swallows take flight, a boat’s sail hangs on the colour-washed sea, and the unbroken “ho, ho, ho” of distant voices drifts across the water. The whole scene is unhurried, golden and at peace.

The middle verses fill the village with its evening life. A farmer stands contentedly admiring his crop; a boy drives the cattle home with the familiar “ho, ho” call; a folk verse echoes from far off; waterfowl hurry to their roosts. The home gardens are heavy with fruit and vegetables, and everyone, “young and grown and old,” works together, pouring out honest sweat. There is even a tiny, tender close-up, a honeybee “washing its little mouth” in a jasmine flower, the kind of small perfect detail that makes the whole picture feel alive.

The last verse names the feeling the song has been building. The village is “lovely and serene,” and prosperity spreads “like boiling milk,” kiri uthuraa, the classic Sinhala image of overflowing good fortune, the milk boiled until it brims over at New Year and every blessing. Calling prosperity a “field of merit” (pin ketha) adds a Buddhist warmth: this abundance is also goodness. And the singer admits the truth of it all in the final line: “this good dream I have seen, right here beside me, is coming exactly true.” What the listener is left with is a serene, hopeful vision of rural life in harmony, work, plenty and peace, an idealized village that feels like a dream, and a wish that the dream be real.