Waren Heen Sare Lyrics (වරෙන් හීන් සැරේ) by Sunil Santha

Come, gently now,
come, gently now,
come, gently now,
O silver cloud

Oh, drift away slowly, slowly, cloud,
sipping the cool breeze, sipping the cool breeze, sailing along
in the half-sleep of the dream world,
the animals of this hour, come gently now, silver cloud

In the watch of the night, gently, come, oh,
the hares go off to their games of love (is it the night watch?) ///
kissing, dancing and leaping in the grass thickets, the hares,
oh, gently, ha ha, gently, come gently now, silver cloud

Why do you sway and sway and rustle and cry out?
on the tree the lady sleeps in her lord’s embrace,
there the great owl secretly flies in pursuit,
the bats, call out “hoyiya” to your own advantage,
and still, gently, ha ha, gently, come gently now, silver cloud

Uncle Moon churning the milk, breaking the milk-pot,
gently he comes crawling on his belly,
oh, hasn’t that white face shrunk up small?
oh dear, sneaking in, crawling on his belly, sliding along, uncle,
oh, gently, ha ha, gently, come gently now, silver cloud

This is a whimsical night-time song by the pioneering Sunil Santha, who wrote both its music and its words, and it has the feel of a lullaby spun out of a moonlit landscape. Its refrain calls softly to a silver cloud, ridee walaawa: come gently now, drift slowly along, sipping the cool breeze. It sets a hushed, half-asleep world in which even the animals are drowsing in the dreamland of the hour.

The song then wanders through that nocturnal world with a child’s delight. The hares slip off to their games in the grass, kissing and dancing and leaping in the thickets; a lady sleeps on a branch in her mate’s embrace while a great owl flies secretly in pursuit; the bats are coaxed to call out their lucky “hoyiya.” Nothing here is frightening; it is all gentle mischief, the countryside at night seen through wide, imaginative eyes.

The loveliest touch is the moon. Sunil Santha calls it handa maama, Uncle Moon, the affectionate name Sri Lankan children give it, and pictures him churning milk and breaking the milk-pot, then crawling across the sky on his belly, his white face shrunk small into a crescent. It is a playful, tender piece of early Sinhala song, closer to a bedtime fantasy than a story, and it shows the childlike wonder that made Sunil Santha’s music so beloved.