Hear me, Ajjuna… hear me, Pajjuna,
When you journey toward Thiriya, seek news of my eldest son.
The spies have whispered—he prays by the river’s edge.
Anuradhapura burns beneath the hand of our foes,
so our kin in Kaduruwela know nothing of his fate.
Do not let him know my heart still searches.
Discover his needs in silence, and ease them unseen.
Hear me, Ajjuna… hear me, Pajjuna.
In Ichchilama’s hills, caves lie waiting,
untouched by sages, empty and still.
If he desires, I will restore them,
and place them at his feet as gifts of devotion.
Ask if he hungers, yet keep my knowing hidden.
Hear me, Ajjuna… hear me, Pajjuna.
Should he forsake his vows and return to the palace,
let him send word upon the winds.
Then shall I ready a shining welcome,
in the city of Athugala, glorious and bright.
Hear me, Ajjuna… hear me, Pajjuna.
