Premiya

I see it, I don’t see it, I seek out love,
I see her, I don’t see her, I seek out the lover,
I thought I’d sing a whole chorus of love,
I too am ready, but you are not here yet,
o my lover…

You are wholly you, and I am wholly me,
on the sleepless night that we met,
I remember spreading out, for you to nestle into,
a single drop of my breath
on an evening wound round with nectar,
on the day the birds sing their songs,
we meet, just between the two of us,
o love…

She was born for me, like a Yashodhara,
the best part of my life is spent with you,
on an evening wound round with nectar,
on the day the birds sing their songs,
we meet, just between the two of us,
o my lover…

A tender, playful love song, a duet by Yash Weerasinghe and Yomal Samarakoon that keeps circling the word premaya, love, and premiya, the lover. It opens in sweet uncertainty, I see it, I don’t see it, I seek out love, and admits a lover’s impatience: I’m ready to sing a whole chorus of love, but you are not here yet.

The middle celebrates two people who are fully themselves and still perfectly matched, you are wholly you and I am wholly me. It remembers the sleepless night they met, when he spread out even a single drop of his breath for her to nestle into, and sets their meeting in a lovely recurring image, an evening wound round with nectar, on the day the birds sing, we meet, just between ourselves.

The tenderest line reaches, as Sinhala love songs often do, for the ideal of devotion: she was born for me like a Yashodhara, the Buddha’s faithful wife, and the best part of my life, he says, is spent with you. Composed by Tharindu Damsara to words by Tharuka Gayashan, it is a warm, gently romantic song about two people who feel made for each other.