Strange lines we read now
Of strange lands north of Vavuniya.
I remember how, in class, I read of
Columbus landed in the ‘New World’. Now, those
Northern shores — being liberated for the South —
Are all Mediterranean for a four day trip.
The sun shines again along the coastal strip.
Relaxation. O’ becalmed island’s reconciliatory pleasure!
What strange charms this island holds! I say, Shhhhh:
Listen — hark! Listen to that sweet sound that kinda makes the hearers strong
And their bosoms leak. Is that mighty Prospero speak?
A tourist’s paradise without a doubt.
From the time the War Reporters did their stints on cam,
The troops unearthed hidden bunkers, weapons, granades
Vanished bodies (of tankers); from the time it was sworn
To fight civilized wars; from the time it was done,
To this day they go madly beating the madly beaten monotonous drum
And if you’re a dancer you can dance. And if you don’t know to
But wanna pass — Join the patriotic All National Swinging Class.
A national paradise, of all but of a cultural history dead.
The impudence of a terrorist — well his dick’s been duly paid
And so, now it’s over — now it’s OUR own Motherland.
Come walk along, bruised Tamil Citizen, we’ll drag you by the hand.
Be Helots, which is better, than being black tigers trained to gun
The innocent and the feeble. Come, now, be a part of the fun.
The fun’s begun, life returns to normal: patriotic Sinhala wits
Feed on foolish ignorant Sinhala meat. Drinks water, Burps. Shits.
Feed on — foolish, ignorant Sinhala tourists, Mahavamsa rests your case.
But for those who cannot do dancing, sweet Hell is a safer place.