ජීවිතයම කතන්දර ගොඩක්!
This is a Sinahla blog written for five years from July 2009. It contains stories - Kathandara - from authors life.
කතන්දරකාරයා ගේ දශක කිහිපයක ජීවන අත්දැකීම් අළලා 2009 ජූලි 11 දින සිට පුරා වසර පහක් තිස්සේ ලියවුණු කතන්දර එකතුවකි. kathandara@gmail.com
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Showing posts with label සන්ඩේ ස්පැෂල් ඇක්ස්ට්රා. Show all posts
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: rajini jayasinghe
Date: 2013/1/26
Subject: [BOONDI " L i v e "] මිනිසුනේ ගංගාරාමයේ ගංගාට පිහිටවෙනු Please share this email
To: boondi-live@googlegroups.com
Weavers, weaving at break of day,
Why do you weave a garment so gay? . . .
Blue as the wing of a halcyon wild,
We weave the robes of a new-born child.
Weavers, weaving at fall of night,
Why do you weave a garment so bright? . . .
Like the plumes of a peacock, purple and green,
We weave the marriage-veils of a queen.
Weavers, weaving solemn and still,
What do you weave in the moonlight chill? . . .
White as a feather and white as a cloud,
We weave a dead man's funeral shroud.
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not!
I fear lest it droop and drop into the dust.
I may not find a place in thy garland,
but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it.
I fear lest the day end before I am aware,
and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint,
use this flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
Chah Nahin Mai SurBala Ke Gehnon Mein Guntha Jaaon.
Chah Nahin Premi Mala Mein Bindh, Pyari Ko Lalchaon.
Chah Nahin Samraton Ke Shav Par, He Hari Dala Jaaon.
Chah Nahin Devon Ke Sar Par Chadhon, Bhagya Par Itraoon.
Mujhey Tod Lena Banmali, Us Path Par Tum Dena Phaink,
Matra Bhoomi Per Sheesh Chadhaney, Jis Path Jaayen Veer Anek.
I don't want to be a part of the necklace of the beautiful girl,
I don't want to woo the lady love,
I don't want to be spread over dead bodies,
I don't want to act snob, after someone offers me to the Gods
Just pluck me Gardner and throw me on the road,
which is taken by the brave soldiers to give away their lives for the Motherland !
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action-
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake
