Dear Weaver, Dear weaver to whom you are weaving this cold 'saluwa' ................. ?

I thought this morning, it is so realistic to begin this cold December by selecting and analyzing a song that I like very, very much

The song ‘Sannaliyane, Sannaliyane is written by Mr. Mahagamasekara, 

Mr. Mahagamasekara

music composed and realistic voice aired, shared by Maestro W D Amaradewa.

Mastro W D Amaradewa 

I am not fully happy about the translation. I know that it is never easy to translate a song or any lyrics that are full of so much realities and a song full of poetry and millions of melodies.   

This song explores the realities of different stages of a woman the meaning and the life lessons it teaches and reminds is so close to my heart and mind  

ikakd,shfka

ikakd,shfka

fï ysñosrs Wofha

ikaf;dfika Tn yskeyS yskeyS

ldgo weªu úhkafka

ud, .srd ;gqfiau reúka hq;= ks,ajka weªu úhkafka

ud, .srd ;gq fiau reúka hq;= ks,jka weªu úhkafka

Bfha bmÿkq l=¿ÿ,a ÿghs fï fmdä we÷u úhkafka

Dear weaver,

Dear weaver,

In this early, fresh morning,

Smiling

And

Smiling happily,

To whom you are weaving this little frock

To whom you are weaving the bluish frock as beautiful as the feathers of the parrots

I am weaving this little bluish frock to the fresh little girl, born yesterday

ikakd,shfka

ikakd,shfka

fï yekaoEhdfï

yev jev ou,d

,iaik lr,d

ldgo ldgo we÷u úhkafka

yekaoE wyfia rkajka mdáka os,sfyk weªu úhkafka

yekaoE wyfia rkajka mdáka

os,sfyk we÷u úhkafka

ta l=¿ª,a ÿj oSf.l fokakhs

ux., we÷u úhkafka

Dear weaver,

Dear weaver

In this evening,

Shaping and threading so beautifully  

To whom you are weaving the wedding frock,

To whom you are weaving the shining frock shining like the golden sky

I am weaving this shining frock, for the girl who is going away to his finance’s house

ikakd,shfka

ikakd,shfka

iS;, i| t<sfha

ue,jqKq uQKska

fjõ,k oE;ska

ldgo i¿j úhkafka

lKfldla ;gqfõ iqÿ ue,s mdáka

iS;, i¿j úhkafka

lKfldla ;gqfõ iqÿue,s mdáka iS;, i¿j úhkafka

ñh .sh wehf.a

ñksh jykakhs

iS;, i¿j úhkafka

Dear weaver,

Dear weaver,

In this cold moonlit night

With paled face, Shaky hands,

Using the pale colours of the kanakoka

To whom you are weaving the cold shole?

To whom you are weaving?

I am weaving this cold piece of cloth, to cover the cold body of the woman who died yesterday

[Kanakoka is a bird. I don’t know the specific English term for that. This bird is known as a bad omen in the minds of some of the generations. There are many folklore and perhaps myths attached with the sounds of this bird, innocent, but people never hate or harm this bird not to my knowledge

Saluwa is shole ]

 Wish you all a melodious  month ahead !