Irin Josapin Lyrics by Wallie Bastien

Irin Josapin, Rosalin, Anjalin
in and out, here and there, dancing through it all

Piano, banjo, tamarind, mandolin
violin, violin, the violin the world can never lose
Violin that soothes me, violin, violin
you rest here in my hands
to your sweet sound, gently
I rock the little child in a golden cradle
Violin, I have never left you
princess of the art of music
you are the delight of the heavenly maidens

Irin Josapin, Rosalin, Anjalin
in and out, here and there, dancing through it all

Piano, banjo, tamarind, mandolin
violin, violin, the violin the world can never lose
The gods and heavenly maidens came down to hear your sound,
back then, gathering around the master Guttila
kings, queens and learned men
came from far away to hear you play
Sweet are the songs of the heavenly maidens
princes sat spellbound, their hearts caught in the music
even when the playing was old, it was beyond price

Irin Josapin, Rosalin, Anjalin
in and out, here and there, dancing through it all

Piano, banjo, tamarind, mandolin
violin, violin, the violin the world can never lose
I have loved you so deeply
from those early days my heart has never let you go
the sorrows and troubles that fill my mind
you carry away with a single one of your beats
And in my very last moment
why play the cradle song of sleep
let the two of us meet again in heaven

This is a love song to an instrument. The voice belongs to a musician, and the one he is singing to is his violin. He never names a sweetheart; instead he treats the violin itself as his beloved, talking to it the way you would talk to someone you have loved your whole life. The bright opening line, “Irin Josapin, Rosalin, Anjalin,” is playful nonsense music, syllables strung together to sound like a fiddle dancing up and down the strings, “in and out, here and there.” Then he runs through the family of instruments, piano, banjo, mandolin, before landing on the one that holds his heart, “the violin the world can never lose.”

What makes the song tender is how he keeps slipping between the violin and a person. He says it rests in his hands, that its sweet sound rocks a baby to sleep in a golden cradle, that he has never once left it. He calls it the princess of music and the delight of the heavenly maidens. The violin becomes a living companion, a partner who has been beside him since he was young.

The middle verse reaches into Sri Lankan tradition for its proof of how powerful this music is. It calls up the story of Guttila, the master musician of the Guttila Jataka, one of the Buddha’s birth tales that every Sri Lankan grows up hearing. In that story Guttila’s playing is so beautiful that the gods themselves and the heavenly maidens come down from the heavens to listen. By placing his violin in that story, the singer is saying its sound belongs in the same world as the greatest music ever played, the kind that draws kings, queens and learned people from far away, the kind that leaves princes sitting spellbound. Even old, worn playing, he says, is beyond any price.

The last verse turns quiet and moving. He admits how deeply he has loved this instrument, how from his earliest days his heart has never let go of it, and how a single stroke of the bow can lift away all the sorrow weighing on him. Then he reaches the thought that gives the whole song its ache. At his very last moment, he asks, why play the lullaby that puts a person to sleep for good. Better that the two of them, the musician and his violin, meet again in heaven and keep on playing. It is a way of saying that the love between a player and his music does not end with a life, and that is the feeling the listener is left holding.