කුරුළු අනියම් පෙම

පෙම්බරා
එනු මැන
කිරිල්ලිය  හා කුරුළු පැටවුන්
අතහැර
මා වෙත ...

බැඳීම් ඉරා විසිකර 
නැවතත්
බැඳෙන්නට
ඇගේ තටු සිඳ දමා
මා හා ඉගිලෙන්නට
කුරුළු පැටවුන් පෙළා
මා හා කිචි බිචි ගාන්නට

පෙම්බරා
එනු මැන විගස
මා කූඩුවක්
තනන්නට පෙර ...

By Jahooli Devi

Il pleure dans mon cœur par Paul Verlaine - Sinhala version

මගේ හදවත හඬා වැළපෙයි 

වැසි වසිනා ලෙසට නුවරට 

කිමද මේ සන්තාපය 

මසිත පසාරු කරවන ?

මහ පොලොව හා පියැසි මත 

චිචිරි චිචිරි ගා වැටෙන වැහිබිඳු 

ගීයකි ය අගනා කන්කළු 

මලානිකව ගිය හදකට

අහේතුකවම කඳුලැලි සලයි සිත 

ගිලන් කරමින් හදවත 

නමුත් නැත කිසිදු රැවටීමක්, විරහයක් 

මේ දොම්නසට හේතුවක්!

ආලයක් වෛරයක් නොමැති වත් 

මහද වැළපේනම් නිතිත් 

හේතුවක් නොදැනීම නොවෙද 

දැරිය නොහැකිම දුක මෙලොව?

Translated by Jahooli Devi

Fathima & I

Fathima & I

We were Montessori friends

She’s a Muslim, I am a Buddhist

She always had Mehendi on hands

That was the only difference,

We danced 

for a concert

She was the Flower, I was the Butterfly.

That was quite a show!

"රන්වන් පාටයි සමනළයා 

රෝස මලේ පැණි බීල ගියා 

ආයිත් ඒවිද ඒ සමනළයා 

මල්වල පැණි බොන්ටා "

I did not meet her after Montessori days

I met her suddenly one day

We were 24 years old.

She was an English teacher, I was still at University

She was worried about her marriage:

“You know the girls in my age, all married 

& having children,

I am too late for everything”

She talked about Quran, I talked about Feminism

I said I wanted to travel more,

She laughed sighed & left.

I heard she got married when I studied for Masters,

She decided to wear Burqua

I knew she would because

Studying Quran was her favorite hobby

I had a fascination for her spiritual

Stories, 

I felt like a sinner.

She had two children, while I had two Masters

She wore all black, covered from head to foot

I had courage to wear a Bikini

Who won? Was there a contest between us?

Shame on us.

Recently, I was waiting in a queue

To get my driving license,

Lady in Burqua was standing behind me

A driving license?

I looked at her

She smiled at me

From her eyes,

That was all I could see

She smiled again

there was a sparkle in her eyes

But, there was no mouth

No nose, No face, No body

Not even Mehendi

All covered in black clothes,

She was still beautiful.

How can I know whether it’s Fathima,

My friend, The Flower?

By Jahooli Devi

උත්තර නෑ

පූසට කොච්චර කන්න දුන්නත් 
මීයෝ පස්සෙන් පන්නන්නේ ඇයි?

මී මැස්සෝ හැමදාම පැණි බිව්වත් 
සීනි වැඩි නැත්තේ ඇයි ?   

සලඹයා කොච්චර ලස්සන උනත්
සමනළයා විතරක් ජනප්‍රිය ඇයි ? 

කුරුල්ලෝ ත්  සින්දු කියනවනම් 
සුපර් ස්ටාර් යන්නේ නැත්තේ ඇයි ?


By Jahooli Devi

Un Paradis Oublié Forgotten Paradise

Aimer mon pays
un amour tardé un devoir manqué, Possédé 

par des fantômes blancs désillusionné par les mirages luxes On a abandonné notre patrie au milieu de
l'Océan Indien
pour pleurer 

de sa forme... On l'a blessée torturée dévorée 

par la honte de sa pauvreté... Quand on a faim et soif on a cherché 

les terres lointaines Inconnus pour mendier... On revient après des années

des années d'ignorance demandant pardon... Mon cher pays ! On t'a oublié poussant les voiles de fer pour te fuir à travers le ciel... On est revenu 

chercher nos racines parmi ses arbres gigantesques, la douceur parmi ces rivières chevaleresques, la fierté, sur ces montagnes pittoresques, pour Vivre, respirant sa pureté... Aimer, toi ta gentillesse ton courage malgré la misère battue par les moussons, tes sourires éclatants venant d'un cœur plus chaud qu'un soleil éternel, tes hommes, femmes, enfants 

partageant leur riz au curry épicé sous l'ombre des cocotiers, tes prières spirituelles plus fortes que les vagues bleues qui te frappent, cet enchevêtrement envahissant, cette simplicité de la vie, cet amour tardé le devoir manqué

c'est pour toi,

On te porte comme un collier pierres 

précieuses dans nos âmes criantes Vive le Sri Lanka...

Par Jahooli Devi

Photo 1 : La Baie de Trincomalee, Sri Lanka

Photo 2 : Adam's peak, Sri Lanka ©Sébastien Javelle

Embrace her to your home

The whirlwind
shattered 
the lovely nest
in the mountains

to bits & pieces

Petite darling birdie
lost her home ,

wandered aimlessly

for many years

till she came in search of you

Over the mountains 
across the sky
just to be with you... 

Embrace her to your home

Where else she could go?

The whirlwind
shattered 
the lovely nest
in the mountains

to bits & pieces

Orphan, Alone

gazing at the deserted horizon

She has only tears

to keep herself warm everyday...

You are a solo bird king,

My dear friend, 

Let her make a home

in your cozy nest..

Translated by Jahooli Devi

සුළං කපොල්ලේ තැනූ කැදැල්ලේ...
කෑලි කැඩී බිඳී වැටේ නිල් කඳු රැල්ලේ...

කූඩු කැඩී තැන තැන ගිය පුංචි කිරිල්ලී...
දැන් ඔබ ලඟ සිටී රුවක් විලස නොසෙල්ලී...
යොදුන් ගණන් ඔබමැ සොයා ආ සියුමැල්ලී...
පිලිගනු ඈ කොහි යන්ටද නැවත ඉගිල්ලී...

ඇයට මවක් පියෙක් නොමැත ක්සිතිජ වළල්ලේ...
කඳුළ පමණි ඇයට උරුම දවස මුළුල්ලේ...
ඔබ තනිකඩ කුරුලු රජෙකි වෙසෙන නිදැල්ලේ...
ඇයට ළැගුම් දෙන්න සබඳ ඔබේ කැදැල්ලේ...

Song by Nanda Malini
Lyrics: Prof. Sunil Ariyarathne

L'amour

L'amour si douce
comme la peau 
d'un nouveau -né
qui donne du désir 
de caresser
encore et encore...
L'amour innocente
si naïve
qui n'espère que
d’être aimé
parmi les bras d'un amant...
L'amour qui attend
tous les jours
que l'aimé revient
que la vie 
sera en rose...
L'amour qui espère
sans espoir
que tout sera mieux
Un jour
quand les amoureux 
se croisent...


Par Jahooli Devi

Une terre en vie

Où est-il, l’éléphant d’Asie ?

Oublié déjà

Sous un soleil désespéré

Où est-elle, la baleine bleue ?

Oublié déjà

Dans un océan désolé

Où est-il, le tigre du Bengale 

Oublié déjà

Sous une terre assoupie

Où est-elle, la tortue blanche ?

Oubliée déjà

Dans un univers ennemi

Savez-vous mes amis, savez-vous ?

L’arc en ciel à l’horizon

Souffle couleur à nos vies ?

Un champignon palpitant

Chouchoute des secrets

Aux fourmis sous les pierres?

N’est-il pas tout fier le paon

avec sa queue chatoyante ?

J’attends, j’attends

Chaque souffle 

dans ce monde battant

Ne me quittez pas

Venez pour fêter

souriants , dansez tango

Et plantez notre jardin mosaïque

Savez-vous mes amis, savez-vous ?

L’arc en ciel à l’horizon

Souffle couleur à nos vies ?

By Jahooli Devi

Over the valleys

Over the valleys 

& the mountains

He took

untrodden paths

in search of

Inconnu

Aventure...

I shed tears

on the maps

fatigued myself

holding the Memory

close to the heart

in the name of 

Him

Love...

By Jahooli Devi

Entre Narahenpita et Borella ( 3km )

Femmes, dehors de boutiques choisissent des okras
Hommes, sans bras ni jambes mendient ici et là
Président collé sur les murs demande la troisième fois
Mudalali prie le bouddha et les dieux pensant chacun pour soi

Paquets de riz de poissons séchés et de navets blancs,
Le porridge de l’herbe pourrissent près de canal sale
Uncle vend des pois chiches au goût kérosène
Bus de village vers Colombo en leur excursion de rêve

Femmes enceintes avançant vers l’hôpital;
Conducteur demande si on veut des tickets, sans blague?
Bureaux fleurissent de Wathu Sudda Wada Rosa tous les jours
Morgues VIP arrosent l’eau curcuma pour sauver l’âme

Analphabètes lissent les journaux avec leurs gangs
Voitures klaxonnent comme s'ils ont avalé leurs langues
Merdes des chiens décorent les rues sans laisser un coin
Et moi, je cours en souriant - pleurant à tous les sens



Par Jahooli Devi

I am so fainthearted!

I am so fainthearted! 

Every time I pass the butcher's shop in Kottawa,

I look away to avoid the unpleasant view of mutton & chicken,

hanging on the hooks,

cursing devil like butchers 

carrying large knives who chop chop chop

their path to hell! 

At the super market in Aix,

I don't touch fish with eyes because they frown at me

"Don't you dare touch me"

I get scared 

such a weak soul I am!

But,

I choose frozen square shaped fish 

with no eyes

sighing & thinking about mother's Ambul Thiyal curry,

At KFC, 

I am the first to stand in the queue 

looking at the big board full of mouth watering crusty chicken,

Why do I find the young boys at that cashier 

so attractive, 

not the butchers covered in blood?

By Jahooli Devi

Self - reflection

There is a child in me

Stubborn,

wearing the Kos Kola crown

wanting to be the King

never the Queen

in every game I play

There is a child in me

Uncontrollable,

Like the kites I used to fly

with the village Kollo

though with strings attached

On square paddy fields

In a sweaty heyday

There is a child in me

Wild,

Burning the Habarala Yams

Under the Rambutan tree

waiting to be the woman

of Robin Hood or of that kind

In a Kompittu play day.

There is a semi- precious child

Babek

Within me & in you

Among apparent Blue sapphires

refusing the requests

to be polished, dragged from the pits

just to bring joy

to a digger's day !

By Jahooli Devi

1. Kos Kola : Jack fruit Tree Leaves

2. Kollo : Boys

3. Habarala : Wild long Yam 

4. Rambutan : hairy looking asian fruit tree

5. Kompittu : Child play with sand blocks made by coconut shells

6. Babek : Baby

For fake is not just a word

For Fake is not just a word

But a red lipstick

On a lady’s lip

Kiss!

Black mascara on her eyes,

Bit of powder on the cheeks

To cover her griefs.

For Fake is not just written

But seen from far

Fully rounded

Like the belly of 

Mr. President

Touch! 

Before it explodes.

Fake is also felt

In a One Million scented lover

Smell!

Faker than

the plastic flowers

He brings.

By Jahooli Devi

මදුරුවෝ

 

උරා බොති, කති, 

විකති
උන්
රීරි
මාංස,
හිරු දියව ගොස්
කලුවර
වෙලනවිට
අප හිත්,
තලති, පෙලති, 

දුම් ගසති,
අප අත්
ආවේශයෙන්,
පලවා හරින්නට
මේ යකුන්...

By Jahooli Devi

 

Painting : The mosquito net 

Artist : John Singer Sargent (1856 -1925)

Simple Theory

The bigger the pudding she craves for

The smaller the penis of her lover is

The deeper the vagina she's got

The lesser the chance of her marriage is....

By Jahooli Devi