The Canal

The well-dressed canal
walks through the paddy-fields

That an insomniac reservoir
had these clothes stitched
the canal has not
to a single rice stalk whispered
as yet

[translation of "ඇළ" from the collection "මීළඟ මීවිත" by Ruwan Bandujeewa]

The Gardner

The princess 

to the rose garden came

and sought the gardner out

Pull out the weeds

burn them all

ordered she

Upon the small weed flowers

unnoticed 

but to an up-close gaze

The gardner stood

and saw

and heaved a heavy sigh. 

[translation of "උයන්පල්ලා" from the collection "මීළඟ මීවිත" by Ruwan Bandujeewa]

Dear Grackle, how happy you must be!

“The Devi Ulakudaya
to a boy has given birth
Dear Grackle
how happy you must be!

The king will no doubt reward you now
and shower veneration on the author-bikkhu
for seven full days from now in Kotte
all manner of celebration there will be”

“The journey was nothing like the poem
no food, nothing to drink, no place to sleep
of what was described nothing did I see
I could not an order disobey
and to the God Vibheeshana passed the note

Listen, friend! While I was away
a rat-snake of formidable size destroyed my home
my daughter’s feathers were all over the place
and my love, of grief and a broken heart did die

The Devi Ulakudaya, the king and the haamuduruwo
they send three messages of condolence, this is true
but did not visit, said not one small word
at the funeral my sorrow to ease…”

[translation of "සැළලිහිණියෝ උඹට කොහොම සතුටක් ඇත්ද?" from the collection "මීළඟ මීවිත" by Ruwan Bandujeewa]

*The reference is to the Salalihini Sandeshaya (or 'The Grackle Letter') and epic poem written by Ven Thotagamuwe Sri Rahula Thera in the 15th Century during what is often referred to as the Golden Age of Sinhala Literature at the time King Parakramabahu VI reigned in Kotte.

Retrospection

What was it?

What was that thing

that danced all over keyboards

leaving paw prints in rainbow colours,

what was it that spoke 

of a heretic being stoned

and roses so soft

they cut glass?

What did rasakinda extract

in an absurd wrapping of heart?

What was that time

which passed as fragrance and syllable

in a cosmic synethesia —

a strain unnamed 

on account of rarity

and dismissed

as the mere ramblings 

of a lunatic

miseducated and lost

in territories too barren to map?  

The tree and the vine

[a love story]

To the vine, the tree said thus:

Look at you, poor thing!

Can’t stand straight,

condemned to crawl!

Come, dear one,

use me, climb

and survey

the vastness of the earth

rise!

To the tree, the vine replied:

Look at you, poor thing!

Rooted and immobile

denied exploration

and so, so very naked!

But fear not, love

conquests shall I forego 

and encounters that delight,

I shall spin a yarn

clothe and decorate

and from embarrassment liberate!

Night Scoops

Silhouettes: 

sentinels 

stationed and alert

the decree of reflected light

penumbral tenderness 

I scoop from the edges of night

and like holy ash anoint --

fingertips 

on forehead

and whisper

a timeless mantra

"Go, go to heart edge

seek laceration,

heal!"


[Pic, courtesy www.videezy.com]

Amaradeva

Silence is a product 
of all the songs

the high notes and low

the impossible mix

of birth and death

the concert of pauper and king

blend of unvanquished yesterdays

and impossible tomorrows;

silence is voice

cutting across memory 

navigating disbelief 

the marriage of the inevitable

with the fervent belief of immortality;

he’s gone

and in going

turned a country into a song

lined with the most transparent

of tears

music that drips

from life-edge and heart

so delicate

it’s called ‘silence’

for lack of better word

to describe 

a voice that’s gone

but stays

and stays. 

[Pic, Sandra Mack]