Soyaganeema Lyrics by Tharindu Damsara

You cannot hide the film of tears,
behind that eye stilled with a sorrowing smile,
your fingers, trembling like your very heart,
as they stroke my hair,
I understood, the long waves of sighs
breaking against your brow

If only I could kiss him once, our son, held in my arms,
if only I could go and linger a little by the home hearth,
when you come to see me in the evening,
could you bring our little daughter?
to place in her small hands
the little chain, and the pair of bangles
the doctor who came here this morning,
calling you close and telling you in secret,
the words he said, I lay and heard them,
lying still, as if fallen asleep

The weeping you could not hide from me,
I heard it then,
the love that, though asked for so long, went unspoken,
was there in that voice

White the bedsheets, white the ceiling,
white the curtains, white every single thing,
for one moment, freeing myself from all this white, embracing your dark chest,
my heart forces me to weep

One of the most quietly devastating songs imaginable, sung from a hospital deathbed by a dying wife and mother to the husband at her side. It opens with unbearable tenderness and clear sight: she can see he cannot hide the film of tears behind his sorrowing smile, and feels his fingers, trembling like his heart, stroking her hair, and the long waves of held-back sighs breaking against his brow. She knows, even as she comforts him.

The middle is a list of small, heartbreaking last wishes. If only she could kiss their little son once more, held in her arms; linger a moment by the home hearth; and, when he visits in the evening, would he bring their little daughter, so she can place in the child’s small hands a chain and a pair of bangles, a mother’s last gifts. Then the quiet horror: she overheard the doctor that morning, called aside and told in secret, while she lay still, pretending to be asleep.

The last verses hold the whole grief. The weeping he tried to hide from her, she heard; and the love that, though longed for over the years, was so rarely spoken, she finally heard in that broken voice. And the closing image is unforgettable: everything around her is white, the sheets, the ceiling, the curtains, every single thing, and for one moment she longs only to break free of all that hospital white and bury herself in the warm dark of his chest and weep. Composed by Tharindu Damsara to words by Lakshantha Athukorala, it is a shattering song about a dying woman’s tenderness, her small last requests, and a love spoken fully only at the very end.