Mandari

Mandari, smiling from the window in the night
the cracks in our love wound me, O moon-fair one
amid unfamiliar footsteps, coming softly, setting down each step
my heart has never once died

Breaking through seven ramparts, from the single-pillar house
I am counting the days to carry you away
on a rainy day when black clouds gather, in the dark
I will break open the prison cell and take you away

Cradling you to sleep in my arms, in our nest
I will keep you safe like the moon
the dusk is young, I long to savour it
becoming a star in the moonlit sky

Mandari, smiling from the window in the night
the cracks in our love wound me, O moon-fair one
amid unfamiliar footsteps, coming softly, setting down each step
my heart has never once died

This is a love song with the heart of an old rescue tale. Mandari is the beloved, glimpsed “smiling from the window in the night,” and though there are “cracks” in their love that wound him, he insists on the one thing that matters: “my heart has never once died.” Whatever has come between them, his devotion is still fully alive, and he steals toward her softly, step by careful step.

The middle verse turns his love into a vow of heroic defiance. He speaks of “seven ramparts” and a “single-pillar house,” images straight out of Sinhala folklore, where a maiden is locked away in a tower guarded by walls. He counts the days to break through them and carry her off, choosing a dark, rainy night with black clouds gathering as his cover to “break open the prison cell.” Their love is forbidden or confined, and he casts himself as the one who will free her.

The last verse softens into tenderness and a dream of after. Once she is free, he will cradle her to sleep “in our nest” and keep her safe “like the moon,” and together they will savour the young dusk, “becoming a star in the moonlit sky.” What the listener is left with is that heady mix of danger and devotion, a lover ready to break down walls in the dark, not to conquer, but to bring the one he loves home to safety.