Words for the Sri Lanka Tourist Office

The King Cobra slides through our jungles, and tucked in bushes by the riverbanks the grand Kabaragoya holds court among lizards— but if you want to swim at Mount Lavinia, or fly kites on Galle Face Green, or ride horse carts in the Jaffna peninsula of your ancestors, or bear a child in Colombo General Hospital, or sleep in Cinnamon Gardens under a mango tree, or beg in the Borella Market, or ride for historical reasons on patrol boats in the Bay, or stilt-fish off Matara down South, just remember here everywhere there is only man burning and woman burning here everywhere in shallow graves in deep graves floating out of salt water washing down the sands the dead have tongues the dead have ears tongues are speaking to ears What are they saying? What are they saying? Tell us, brown bear bolting out of your cave. Tell us, leopard leaning on your branch. Tell us, flamingos. Bend your necks and pour wine pour wine Hoopoes, kingfishers, cranes, have you got your messages on the bill, are you ready to sing? Are you going to sing? Monsoon. Are you going to sing? Monsoon. Are you going to sing? Monsoon. Monsoon.