Kavadi music, Kavadi dance, born in Kataragama’s land,
As soon as you cross the Manik River, that rhythm calls the soul.
I do not plan to dance—yet my body moves on its own.
What shall I do, my friend? I dance, I dance unbidden.
Shall we journey to holy Sella-Kataragama,
And listen to the tale of Goddess Valli?
Shall we seek whether Ratnamali once climbed the “Telambu Tree”,
Where the Dagoba of Swarnamali now rises?
King Gamini Aba of Jambudweep kept his vow,
Raising the shining dagoba for Mahasen of Kataragama.
He said, “I will offer one share,” but gave twice in Chandangrama.
I do not plan to dance—yet my heart bursts into song.
What shall I do, my friend? I dance, I dance unbidden.
I behold Revatha Khadiravaniya Thero,
Walking in silence through Kataragama’s sacred grounds.
Shall we ask if the Chitrapatali flowers are blooming today?
The great kings of Lankadeepa gifted monasteries to the Sangha.
Since those days, city streets have shone with light,
And grand processions flow like rivers of devotion.
Even now, as one nation, we dance in gratitude.
I do not plan to dance—yet the music moves me still.
What shall I do, my friend? I dance, I dance unbidden.
Kavadi music, Kavadi dance, born in Kataragama’s land,
As soon as you cross the Manik River, that rhythm calls the soul.
I do not plan to dance—yet my body sways like flame.
What shall I do, my friend? I dance, I dance unbidden.
