The Song of Lankadeepa the Great Serendip

A Chapter by Sawan

The Beautiful Pure Delightful Bliss of God

Greatest Song

The Divine Song of the Beautiful Pure Delightful Bliss of God

Purest Song

The Song of Lankadeepa

When the Trees blossom in the Rose Apple Isle,

Pure Land of the Pure,

The Land of Rose Apple Wood!

The Trees fragrant blossoms do bear fruit upon the

Wafted Air of Virtue

Singing the Song of Salvation Found!

The Song of Salvation, the Greatest Song of the Pure!

Oh, What Happiness!

The sky unclouded, and the sun falling upon the green leaves

In the Untouched Timeless Forest!

It’s clean youth of appearance unblemished

And sorrow absent from the world!

The Song of Lankadeepa, profound is deep,

Yet what is Greater?

Salvation found!

Salvation found! For Happy is the one that doth good,

And pained are the sinner that wept, and doth weep!

Yet is it salvation found? Is it Heaven? Nibbana Supreme?

No!

Is pain the answer to life? Is mortification the purification of soul?

It is not, I know not that pain that follow the cart of the ox, that wept for sin He had commit.

Then is the answer to life, pain?

It is not, for happiness does beat a happy soul.

Then weep yet, suffer?

Not now, not ever!

Its bright beams do touch upon the breezing leaves,

And its happiness, is Great! For leaves do sing upon the air

Wafting that bliss supreme!

Casting light upon the shadows that doth forest dance to and fro

Shedding wisdom upon the Earth.

The Earth that browns the land, the forest that does not grow,

It dances upon the ground, in shades of sand and brown!

The Forests of Lankadeepa!

The Forests of Lanka Isle!

That Bliss Supreme!

Its youth speaks the Earth into stone, and its stone does shake

Upon the Earth, The Earth does pine, for glory!

The Holy Kingdom!

Lanka!

Is that clear as the fragrant blossom does spring?

As the bird that takes flight!

If a piner does sorrow, then what carries Him up, and drops Him Down?

His Heart, for He speaks love to His Kin!

If One crazed does sorrow, then what His heart says to Him?

To take or to weep?

To take or to taste?

To taste or to cry?

Lankadeepa that bliss supreme!

That Perfect Isle of the Rose Wood, That Rose Wood Sublime!

Oh, If I had no home, then, what is that pain to my heart?

What crying so thick in its wood, that crying banshee sublime?

There is no thicker happiness, so gladder heart!

There is no honey fatter, or fatter tree upon the air of honey Delight!

Where I not smell the roses, of the Rose Wood Sublime!

Be my heart’s desire, my tearing cry upon the Universe,

That Does Shake in Sin committed?

Shall man not repent, for cry he does, while he takes his sleep.

But shall not repent, and shall not enjoy, that pain follows the ox Cart. That ox cart be pulled, and the ox does suffer. So repent, for Joy not tastes is pained. Joy not loved, is hate, and hate fill their Heart and souls.

But pain not reap its wrath, for Buddha Sublime Preaches the Truth?

Pained they may suffer, and know not, the True Lord’s Way. Taking the fruit of passion, why not seek another?

God is the True Lord’s Way, that Buddha Supreme.

Buddha is Sublime, for He knows His Proper Way. He knoweth, And Taste that Fruit of Knowledge and Teacher’s Way, Supreme. Earned His Wrath, Earned His Power, He is Greatest Lord of Dhamma! So taught He has, and glad His Pure Heart stilled!

Oh that Land Everlasting!

Where the Pure Blossoms Blossom!

It is that Island Supreme!

Undying Lanka!

Where doth the Good and Happy dwell!

The Happy Glad Supreme!

Where the Good prosper and Taste the Isle Everlasting

That Nibbana Everlasting doth Prosper,

And Show Its Shining Way

Where the Peak Blossom Flowers doth Peak its

Everlasting Undying Fruit

It does not Stand the Greatest Happiness

That Showeth the Way

That Nibbana Sublime!

That Purest Home of the Everlasting!

That Purest Blossom Sublime

The Fruit of the Nectar youth

That Passion fruits its seed!

The clear lasting watermelon drink it shakes

Bursting from the melon’s thick crush

Splattering and dripping falling

And filled with the nectar fruit!

Honeydew Isles honeydew drops,

And the green forest do glare blind

In that Supreme Bliss!

Lighted brushes that bright true green

The leafs that shake, shimmering in the plants’ proper way

Cutting leafs shake not here,

For cutting is the cutter’s way!

Cut not, and shake not, for happiness sublime

Breaks it!

The Forest is not ridden with animals,

But sense passion burst forth from it,

And passion fills the air,

That Lankadeep, Sublime!

Subliminity know its true cause and subliminity knows it answer

For its proper breaking path.

Bursting flowers doth spring forth from the bark

Pink blossoms, of the Star!

If Eaten by a blossom, that Star brings its fruit

But if not yielding, not give, that star passion pines!

It caresses the giver, and takes not the life!

The Yard foot pink blossom, does take in the beholder,

Yet feed not its wrath, so give not back to it.

Instead compassion beats its tune, kindness everlasting

Carrying its task.

Beating its tune! Beating its tune!

Carry the task and cross the washing river, purity cleans,

Not hurt the happy!

A River burst forth in storm, as the thunder cloud darkens the Mountains! Turned blue have they, and darkest shade of day

The evening hour they take, and late, pure skies starry!

Filled with stars, there is not cosmos that might not be seen!

A galaxy, white, like milk boiled in the pot,

Its burns centering the milk drink! Swirling and Shaking

A delicious delight!

White, burned white, mixing its froth…

Yet surrounded by white chocolate specks, lots, and loads

That turn the dark sky near bright!

That yellow sun that doth smirk does place,

That blue sea that taste the gleaning sheen,

Ripples casting the waves timeless, and endless,

The ocean vast, the sea doth smile!

Grinning its deep vast grin…

Ridden in mystery supreme

Carrying 40,000 Tales Beneath the Sea!

Forty Thousand men

And Forty Thousand Tales

40,000 Stories

All of them beneath Sea!

Giving and Taking

Eating Fine Dining,

The hate that fill the sea!

Not used, and vast,

It is wrong to sing!

A wicked soul does smear its paint upon the waves

That is the ordinary sea but lo!

Clean and pure, vast green, blue

Deep blue Sea, do greet thee in invitation

Leave the Isle,

Or Stay!

Leave Isle by Flight!

Leave by wave,

It is a clean pure land that rest ‘neath

The Skies of dry blue and cotton feathers!

What depth, what deepness! It cannot be touched

By Hands alone, no less they be that of the Devas, Sublime!

Devas, Clean and Sublime, the land everlasting glory,

They sit upon the pure tufts, enjoying that Splendor Sublime!

Giving fair good to land ‘neath their Holy Presence,

The Land green with gold skies, and rolling round green hills

The good might walk upon it, yet, to fare right is to sing its song!

Oh, that Lanka Supreme!

Home of the everlasting!

It does grin to the pure hearted, its happiness,

Giving in kindness giving in lack of loathing,

It does bring us, the happiness, sublime!

The Happiness Sublime,

That Happiness Gold,

That Happiness that bring the Isle Vase,

Back unto the blossoms, three times fold!

The blossoms, blossoming that nectar and holy blossoms,

Everlasting, It is the Clean Holy Fragrance Supreme!

Taste that fine flower, with its sweetest nectar,

For it brings the Isle’s Glory, to its Fruit!

Flowering roses, flowering lily trees! Pale Pink and red!

Pale Pink flowering lily trees, that share Isle Sublime Fold Merit!

A reward upon the Earth’s Good, its purpose fulfilled!

Casting the hue of light upon the beholder, that watch the merry

Blossoms fold sway, rippling that breeze’s command!

Soft, tasting, white and pink, that flower it brings the eyes upon it,

And castes pale pink hues! Scented, perfumed, not just in smell

But in its very growth!

The tree fills with the flowers, and tied, they do sway

Offering to the Buddha Supreme!

Tied by His devotee, devoted, they rest there, in the Heaven

That cannot be breached, vanity and pain!

Blossoms, given by the Holy!

Oh, Blossoms, springing upon the Holy Tree,

Tied there, an offering for the Noble One

His Great Statue, seated, gazing into the far distance

The tree of offerings, filling with the good offered blossoms,

That might not fade, that might not pass!

Tied with strings, they Sing of His Glory!

The Buddha Supreme!

The sun does bask His glory, and the Disciples

Diligent devotion, Diligent in heart and in His Great Effort

To rise Him upon the Earth!

The Holy Buddha! And good Disciple!

Pure Bodhissatvas do dwell upon in,

That Lankadeepa Supreme!

That Lanka Sublime!

The Rose Serendip!

The Rose Isle’s Glory

It shed not vain eyes for the meek

Taking their harvest and bounties of store,

It feed the world’s Triple Body Bound!

For what Gods, and men or animals need ask for more

That wheat, that rice, cleanly raised and harvested!

The rice fields filled with purest rain water and river water,

Filling the wet grass fields with washing,

Tending the roots, filling the heart!

The forest near, and the fields nearer,

It helps feed the Earth with Holy Merit,

That Pure Hearted Soul that carries ‘neath the Feet

Beating its tune in the dust!

The dust of the Earth that flies a fog about the horses feet

The crushing wheel that break the dust

Beneath dry blue and blue sky, as

The Moon does eye the commerce

Surveying its Territories Supreme!

Shrewd, Glorious, Sublime!

Heavenly Foot upon the Earth

And its very Eye!

The White Crushing Biscuit Circle

That be delicious delight for the Gods!

Gifted by the Sacred God of Moon!

Chandima!

Overseer of the Earth and the Sil Farers

Safe Journey through the night!

He casting the pale white light upon the dark forests,

Filled Spirits and spooks that eerie, and hunger!

That Lankadeepa Supreme!

That Holy Lanka’s Foot!

Pale Deepest Yellow!

Deepest Yellow!

The Lion Paw!

It is pure footed, as the Yellow Cake Gold that is eaten

And Sold upon the market place!

Bearing ornaments, and circle bangles, soft, and thick,

To squish upon the hands, like clay,

So pure!

Fine delight for the Gods to eat!

It is eaten hard and soft, and bar by bar!

As diamonds shoved into the mouth as the

Thick Gold bar swallowed by the Frog’s God Gullet!

Purest dish delight of the Gods!

Magnifying beauty, creating radiance and clean sparkling white Shining Perfected Light!

A radiance that brings the happy state,

And place the mean sneer upon the Holy Face!

Sweetest sense delight! The sacred gems and stones!

Food! But try those sacred curry dishes, placed in Gold dish curry Bowls, big and small, and tiny… Green spinaches, of different delighting flavors deep yellow dhal, thickest supreme!

But what of a lion’s leg? A tiger’s Heart?

A rhino’s liver? A lion’s heart? A deva’s bicep?

Tasting the scrumptious fine heart’s yearning

Written upon the hand in stone!

Oh, that happiness is great! So it great!

Do ye understand? Do ye taste that sense delight!

So fine it taste, yet pain it brings, for the giver not take

Be glory, yet give thy flesh to appear vain!

Danger is not good!

Then That is the Great Holy Way!

That man gives His flesh to the God’s for food

He doth walk a Holy Way!

A Fine dish provided,

A Fine meal served and ate,

It brings fine, good delicious delight,

Knowing what be offered, be reaped as

For Shame not be in vain,

And earnest cause a proper name!

So the Great Ones feast upon their Greatest Dishes

In that Lankadeepa Holy Isle Supreme!

A Lankadeepa, that Perfected

Perfected its Heart the Lion Heart!

So the Isle, sing its glory that

Happy Lanka Supreme!

That Rose Wood Fragrant Wood!

That fragrant wooded stone carries bliss!

That fragrant wooded stone carries the heart!

That is glory!

That is pain!

That is fear of lack of death!

Pure, the Holy do dwell free from wrong shame,

For purified they do carry, the Happy Soul Sublime!

Self Realized, rightly, the Great Rulers of the Earth,

Place the True Capital of the Heart’s Splendour,

In it true and Purest Sense Delight! That Greatness!

Lanka, the The True Rosedip Isle Superb!

Among its fragrant woods, the fragrance does float above

Through the green brown thicket and pervade upon the leaves!

Filling the night sky, with jasmine wood smells and sweet isle scents galore! Galore?

Galore?

Glorious!

The skies scented with jasmine do make the jasmine nights

And scented flowers of the ocean deep!

The great flowers of the ocean,

The great blossoming earth!

The great roses of the rose flower

The Petals carrying earth’s mix

The soil turned to heart blossom

Ruby red, the shining gladness of cities

And great euphoria of the world!

The thorns do catch isle grove and do catch the

Lost deep! The thorns of the Rose Thicket do travel

Deep! Neath the Rose Thicket, the dry blue skies do

Dwell at Ease. The clouds which do Hold the Holy Deities

Gazing upon the clear pure heaven sky

That do catch the soft wind of heaven and push it through the sky!

The Skies great blossom do blossom the Water Fruit!

It burst forth and fall upon the mountain

Making Clear Water Earth pot!

That water cascade forth from the Baker Falls

That do rain down upon the Holy Pools of

Mountain High Land Loft!

That Mountain High Land Supreme!

That Land carry the Holy Water, and it rain upon the

Earth

High Loft above the World, that Sacred Rose Forest in the Sky!

Not World’s End the World’s Height and Glory!

Peaked Cliffs High above the Holy Rose Serendip!

Splendour lavish the senses!

And Death’s fall pains the painful High Sacred Peak!

For deep down the gully, the lover doth fall

Taking Noble Dhamma with Him,

He survives, and the High Heavens does Reap!

For what splendor gives gallantry and fame

Takes and spoils! Ridden with pain the Furious with

Enemy do groan! Dashed upon the Rocks,

Dashed upon the forest limbs, and lost among the

High Woods, they do not prosper

In Decline they reap their hate!

In Glory!

Not in Vain

In Glory

Not in Vain!

The Holy Sacred Forests it carry an ocean of pain!

The Holy Sacred Forests, it burden that pain,

For what dashed might walk, a bad piner of the easy way!

That is the pain! That is the hate!

They carry the burden of pain and hate!

The Ocean Lake Supreme in Heights of the mountains,

It cannot carry Earth’s Weight!

Supported by Stilts some say, it Floats Caressed by Soft

Cold Mud!

Cold it does shiver, and shiver every day and night

It does!

In the Cold! In the rain! In the snow!

The rain carries its pain!

Hard to bathe, it does freeze it!

Cold it is, and hard to bear!

Water, it pains the body! It carries it’s cold in gold!

If Sacred Silver were frozen ice, then the Sacred Lake of Height Water would be it!

The Rose Serendip!

Enchanted, glorious, glamourous it speak’s the Holy name

And carries the Holiness!

That Treasure Isle, Supreme, it does carry beautiful treasure bound!

Treasure bound, and it is boundless!

Gazing upon the Harbor, it does give Home!

Washing away the wash but not the stone!

Not the sand, nay for it, for it pearls the harbor delights!

The Green Isle does glean, and it does slumber on the cloudy Day…

It shimmers, the water upon the Rose Isle, it does Shimmer in the

Glare, it does harken the boatsman out on the shore

And Traveler of the Beach. It doth carry the Rose Isle’s Roses

To its sun basked home upon the roses! That Rose Apple Isle!

Rose Apple Isle, taste those rose blossoms! Touch not the Thorn!

Doth prick the finger of pain! Pricking it brings the hope of home

That Lasts the Long Way!

The Thicket of Rose Isle Serendip!

The That Gladness of the dry burned thin wood!

Branches and scores of the long growth wood!

In the shade and in the Rose Wood!

The sun bathes its branches and the sun gives upon its glare!

For what speaks of the unknown be it the thicket, That Rosen

Cheek!

The stream beating its heart, it does breathe!

Dripping the life sustenance onto pure water puddle hearth!

That doth live!

That doth breathe!

That doth that free from sin!

That doth give!

That is the Song

That is the Rhythm of Serendip!

Serendip, that Purest Land

Of the Good and Brave!

That Lanka, that is Lanka!

That singing, supreme!

That glad and whole to the heart!

Heart’s Desire and Heart’s Need!

Oh, it is to be eaten, that delicious heart!

A Greedy and Superb dish it is, fine!

Offer it well, and offer it right!

Offer it to God, for his meal time sense delight!

For He will eat it right!

Good dishes taste good!

But Sri Lankan Food is Sublime!

The Crass Rolls do fill the Chest with

Oil! Thick it like hair on man,

And fills a girl with fat!

The rolls are scalded in oil!

Then they are taken out, scalded hot with the burning frying oil!

Darkened, and hardened!

Bread crumbs roast! Fish soaked in its Holy Pious Flavor! Vegetables wetly cooked, seared fried wet!

They are drenched! They are dripping! They are dripping! They

Are dripping! Cold and raw eggs juices shredded by the gashing

Oil and Flame!

Sing its Glory!

Oh sing its Glory!

That wet oil fried and foaming from the pot that soak through the

Soft wet cloth!

Sing its Glory!

Happiness is its name, and Happiness it does make and bring

To the Rose Isle Heart!

The Cleanest Taste! Crushing greatest shred! That crunches deep And wet! Slurping licks splatter the mouth drenched in oil hard

Bread crumbs! That doth taste that Clear Joy, and crunches again in supreme delight! Greater bites rapidness brings on the next!

Like a Nectar pouring and the plant honey pours upon the plant do bring it Growing Salvation, and staves off death! A Holy Respect!

Oh the Divine Isle do shed its Glory upon the Brethren!

The Whole Buddha Isle Supreme!

It is the Perfect Isle

That carry the good to Pious!

The Holy Land, it is the Sacred Cities by the Sea

The Pure and Whole,

The Wholesome

It carries the clean Hearted Soul!

That Buddha Isle Supreme!

It is the Perfect Land of the Brethren

And be it done but not in vain!

The salvaged land of the Four Great Kingdoms!

Lankadeepa Supreme

Offered to the Wise

Offered to the Brethren

That Purest Rose Isle Supreme!

It is the home of the Lankadeepa

That Lankadeep Serendip Supreme!

The Holy Kingdom!

The Lion Kingdom!

That Perfect doth walk the Perfect Way

The Hope of the Bodhissatva

The Hope of the Loved

That Holy Land Supreme!

That doth the isle walketh

Its ugly deathly way

Mara’s Horde banished

It carry Death’s flag away!

The Gold sun brightens the dusted land,

And shrub hearth of the everlasting freed

The perfections of the immortal,

Sway ‘neath the love trees!

The breeze bellows in the distance

The clear skies supreme!

Doth that supremacy not dot in vain

Among the Pious and the Good Brave!

Doth that Perfection not sully the tainted,

For among the Perfected they have no sway!

The glad to enjoy the happiness everlasting!

The way perfect in its Holy Kingdom!

The Lion Kingdom doth shake its power at the world!

The Greater Power of the Good, the valour of the Supreme

They do curse the ox foot, and take the shadow tuck neath its

Bosum. The Heart of Divinity thus flourished, it shoves the

Merry maker away. Not tending to parties, but the gold tender,

He walks upon the air, and does taste the Isle’s Glory!

The serpent of old does sleep in shadow, enormous cobra of

Power and might. His happy way does look past the Brethren,

Who sway not in the parties’ way!

What joy and bliss does the happy bring upon the hopeless

Who carry not the absence of death’s mark

To shake them away from the shadows and

Bring them to the Clear Bright Loft!

Oh the Holy Devas, are bright!

Oh how their Holy Divinity does Shine upon the Sacred Crown!

The Sacred Crowns of Glory do shake that wrath of heaven!

Their benevolence given to the destitute man and animal,

Their compassion withering their pains.

The Holy Devas, High aloft, do experience the Solemn

Bliss of the High Heaven of Lankadeepa!

Mara’s Horde is vast upon the Earth, it does carry the whole

Weight of the Soul, It does carry it and gives it mighty power,

Yet it youngs not the heart’s peak!

Taken in sacrificial glory, it is tasted well by the Divine

What withers, withers well, and what is disrupted

Earthen in the mud and dust!

The Deeper the Isle Flourishes, then Mara’s Horde Shall Attack

For not repent than suffer that bliss!

So said higher, so said hurt!

The Wheel of Life revolving not,

As the beings that revolve within,

They do vanquish their enemy foes, as does the Wheel not Turn!

Seated upon the Tiger skin, that sleep, hoofed in laziness and

Sleep, good as dead, and sure not alive, he carry Death’s Heavy

Wrath. The Lord of Death Sleep not in that watch, instead awake,

Does look upon thee! Carry Him up you must not,

Lest be fooled, and beaten sore!

Carrying the merry pink feet of the bear cub,

He holds in the hands, Yama’s Wrath unleashed!

The Rose Serendip!

The Rose Isle Splendour Unshaken Aloft!

The Rose Bud Stem of the Great Offering Flowers,

It bears the gifts of fragrances delights!

King Sakka does protect it! Gifted with Life Sacred of Devas

The Serendip Rose Flourishes!

The Isle Serendip!

Carrying water out of the bucket and tossing it onto

The Sand, the clear hearted maiden hands the bucket

To the next maiden in good heart!

The beautiful Rose Isle carrying that water sublime

The Sacred Manik Gange does carry its Holy Pious Water

To its pure river end!

What cleanliness does not weep, as the river spreads its bliss

Weeping Tears of Rose Isle, It does leave the Serendip!

Pure Valley Golden Green of the Himalayas, only compare to its

Sense bliss!

That lasting Rose Isle! That Home Serendip!

That True Isle, That Rose Serendip!

That Pure Eternal Bliss uncontained, it pour forth Heaven’s Spring!

The seizing hand doth tremble, as the steady hand does work

That is the purity of the Rose Isle, that Rose Apple Isle Serendip!

Take a river isle, it does give its river mouth!

Take that wooden grass tree blossom, it does besmirch

The wood of cheer! Cheering sense delight of passion

It sings its ugly song! It carries not the Heart Deep of the

Rose Serendip!

Lions do giveth glory, and lions do take their lot. The Feasting Lion enjoys splendor here, without grinning pots!

In celestial glory He reigns a Supreme Leader of the Isle,

Not bastioned but free to prey, upon the folly of Serendip!

For folly sings of its bravery, in its poor hearted districts of

Work, and they cost the lives of the pure hearted,

Where else would they work?

So Sing praises of the Lion, for hair raising is His might

That Buddha of the Rose Isle, He rule His Lion Paw with Might!

Oh Praise the Buddha of Glory!

Oh, Praise, the Buddha of Might!

Oh, Praise, the Buddha of Fame and Splendour!

Oh, Praise, the Buddha who Cleaves Death’s Horde!

Oh, Praise the Lord Buddha, who Shed His sorrow and pain!

Oh Praises to the Lord Buddha, who is Undefeated, and never in Pain! He teaches the Bliss Sublime, and the Happiness, Everlasting!

Pure Souled, Pure Hearted, He shares the Wisdom Wrath’s Might! A Teacher of True Dhamma, He has seen His Height!

Need not further go, need not further try, the Deathless, it is the Unexcelled Unaging in Sight!

For this is the Happy Land, for this the Happy Destination. What more can be said, for mighty Is Serendip.

What more can be done? What more can be said? That is a Short Song of the Rose Isle, That Holy Serendip.

I am Pure Hearted!

Sadhu Sadhu! This Pious Song of Prayer is complete.

May you practice the Traditional method of Theravada Buddhist Practices, taught by the Holy Noble Disciples, Great Brethren, Rahatan Wahanses, Swaminwahanses and Venerable Sirs, and recite and study the discourses, may these Great People be Protected by the deities and the Great Deities, and Brahma the Great Brahma,

The Father of All that Are and Shall Become.

May they be safe!

And may you in no long time achieve prosperity,

and reach the Sublime Happiness, that Golden Peace called Supreme Bliss of Nibbana!

End of the Book