Dura Penena Thani Thala Lyrics by Kanthi WakwellaVivian Boralessa

The plains stretching far in the distance,
out toward Anuradhapura,
on the full-moon poya day,
it grows radiant,
as voices call out “Sadhu, Sadhu.”

The plains stretching far in the distance,
out toward Anuradhapura,
on the full-moon poya day,
it grows radiant,
as voices call out “Sadhu, Sadhu.”

In the distance, milk-white, across the fertile fields,
the stupa shimmers, the stupa shimmers,
and the rising sound of silver bells fills the sky with light,
and the rising sound of silver bells fills the sky with light,
and the rising sound of silver bells fills the sky with light,
fills the sky with light…

The plains stretching far in the distance,
out toward Anuradhapura,
on the full-moon poya day,
it grows radiant,
as voices call out “Sadhu, Sadhu.”

Jetavanarama, the Abhayagiri temple,
calling out “Sadhu,” let us make our offerings.
Come, let us walk along the bund, around Tisa Wewa (the Tissa tank),
come, let us walk along the bund, around Tisa Wewa,
come, let us walk along the bund, around Tisa Wewa,
around Tisa Wewa…

The plains stretching far in the distance,
out toward Anuradhapura,
on the full-moon poya day,
it grows radiant,
as voices call out “Sadhu, Sadhu.”

The plains stretching far in the distance,
out toward Anuradhapura,
on the full-moon poya day,
it grows radiant,
as voices call out “Sadhu, Sadhu.”

This is a devotional pilgrimage song, sung in praise of Anuradhapura, the ancient sacred capital of Sri Lanka and one of the most revered Buddhist sites in the country. It is not a love song or a personal lament. It is the voice of pilgrims looking out over the dry-zone plains toward the old city on a full-moon poya day, the most sacred day of the Buddhist month, when people travel to temples to worship. You can almost hear the crowd in it, the steady call of “Sadhu,” the word the faithful cry out together as an expression of joy and blessing when they worship.

The picture it draws is very specific to Anuradhapura. The flat plains “stretching far in the distance” are the open country you cross to reach the ancient city. The stupa that shows “milk-white across the fertile fields” is one of the great dagabas of Anuradhapura, painted white and rising above the paddy land so that you see it from far off. When the song says it “shimmers,” it captures how the whitewashed dome seems to tremble and glow in the heat and light of the open landscape, a sight that lifts the heart of anyone coming to worship.

The silver bells that “fill the sky with light” are the temple bells of the sacred precinct. The song blends sound and light together on purpose, the ringing of the bells and the brightness of the poya-day sky become one feeling of holiness, so that the whole sky seems to glow with the sound. Then the names arrive: Jetavanarama and Abhayagiri, two of the oldest and largest monastery complexes in Anuradhapura, their massive brick stupas among the tallest ancient structures in the world. To name them is to invite the listener to come and make offerings there.

The song closes with a tender invitation, “come, let us walk along the bund, around Tisa Wewa.” Tisa Wewa is the great man-made tank, an ancient reservoir built by King Devanampiya Tissa, and walking its long earthen bund is part of the unhurried pleasure of a pilgrimage to Anuradhapura. What the listener is left holding is that quiet, shared devotion, the feeling of arriving at a holy place with others, worshipping at the old stupas, and ending the day by strolling the edge of the ancient water as the poya moon rises.