Makarandaya

To see you on an evening wrapped in nectar,
this love that longs, taking you somewhere else,
loves in a different way

The moon weeps too, the rain wets the earth,
the sun rises, and in the evening it looks for us,
she laughs and looks at me,
I laugh and look at her

Never mind tomorrow, my dear, even today it aches,
I became the sun to the sky, and you became the moon,
I look at her, full of sorrow,
and she is still laughing

A brief, bittersweet love song wrapped in soft, sweet imagery, its title, makarandaya, meaning nectar. The singer longs to see the beloved on an evening wrapped in nectar, and admits that this love, taking you somewhere else, loves in a different way, a love that is not quite ordinary, that carries the beloved off into its own separate world.

The middle sets their love against a whole responsive sky. The moon weeps too, the rain wets the earth, and the sun, rising, looks for us in the evening. Against that backdrop is the tender, mutual image at the song’s centre: she laughs and looks at me, I laugh and look at her, love as simple, shared delight.

But the close turns quietly sad. Never mind tomorrow, he says, even today it aches; he became the sun to the sky and she became the moon, two lights that can never share the same sky at once. And so the final contrast: I look at her full of sorrow, and she is still laughing. One of them already senses the parting the other has not. Sung by Tharindu Damsara, composed by Thiyunuwan, it is a short, tender song about a sweet, different kind of love shadowed by the sense of two people who, like sun and moon, cannot finally stay together.