University of Phonaing - May the Lord never end the song of longing

Author's order

Starting with “Mone Ris Lay Oo,” which appeared in the Myawaddy Magazine in March 1958, I have only written novels that are related in one way or another to social, political, and philosophical issues.

Many readers have been asking me to write only love titles like "Hnin Ret Serew Saw" and "Lum".

My former student, U Aye Ko, a professor of natural sciences at Mandalay University of Arts and Sciences, urged me, “Teacher, I am not going to write about deep thoughts and harsh aspects of life. I do write when I write, but we also want to read about the truth of the heart.”

My teacher, a great teacher, Ra Zaw Gyi, advised me not to waste my time on the world's great literary heritage and to focus on delivering it to the people of Myanmar, since I had already reached the level of education, age, and position that I should have attained. His advice reached my ears. My age, experience, and work obligations also helped me and spoke to me.

In the meantime, I wrote "May the song of longing never end, Saw Thakin."

In fact, the age of 35 is the age of transition from youth to adulthood. In other words, it is the transition between winter and summer.

As I composed in the song “The End of the World Is Wide.” “The land is open to summer.” It is a place of mourning, but it is still in the shadow of winter.

I wrote this great novel, "Let the Song of Longing Never End, Saw Thakin," with the mist and snow of Shan State as the backdrop.

I have found it.

The beautiful winter that we long for is a song of community.

However, even though it was a rainy season and the leaves were falling, we could feel that the spring flowers and buds were also delightful in their own way.

Love, University Honors.

1. Blood loyalty and love

It was the end of winter and the beginning of summer in 1931, during the month of Tabaung.

The patriotic peasant rebellion that began in the Tharyarwadi area spread throughout Burma, opening a new chapter in colonial and revolutionary history with blood and sword.

At the call of the country, everyone with a strong character rose up with swords and blood, not only among the natives but also among the descendants of the Shan State people who had a long history of fighting against the British, starting from the 1885 Uprising.

However, just as the farmers who relied on their own strength and courage fell one by one to the bullets of British mercenaries, leaving behind tears and blood on the cracked fields, so too did the patriots of the Shan highlands, who fell scattered on the ground, covered in trees and willow leaves.

Thus, amidst the sounds of shouting, wailing, gunfire, and the roar of the flames, a small, inconspicuous hut stands quietly amidst the misty mountains of the northern Sinai and the yellow leaves of every forest.

It was night, and the moonlight was falling softly and peacefully. It was misty and could be more diffused on a summer night.

“The leaves are yellow... the summer is drunk... the moon is just before the season, the dark clouds are hidden, the golden leaves... will appear... I can forget, I can live.”

From inside the hut, a woman's voice, singing softly and softly, accompanied by the sound of a harp, was coming out pleasantly.

Inside the hut, a woman of about thirty, who was more graceful and dignified than the high-class bamboo floor, was playing a golden harp and singing softly. Not far away, a Shan man, about half his age, was holding a child of about the age of eight, listening to the music and singing. The young woman looked at the man and the child for a moment and asked the harpist, "What is this?"

“Are you happy, my son, Khun Moi?” Khun Moi asked at this moment…

"The baby has been asleep for a long time. I was so surprised by the sound of your voice that I didn't wake him up," he said respectfully.

The old woman said nothing more, but lowered her scythe and went to the nearby cradle, where the baby would sleep. Seeing the old woman's signal, the old man picked up the baby and gently placed him in the cradle.

While Khun Moi was swinging the hammock to gain momentum, the young woman stood leaning against the window of the hut, looking outside.

The yellow leaves on the mountains outside could be seen faintly in the moonlight. The mountains were shrouded in mist and dark.

The young woman's beautiful face showed a hint of unhappiness. But it was not a look of weakness or weakness. It was the unhappiness of a woman who had calmly accepted whatever unpleasant event might happen.

Khun Moi looked at the sleeping child's pure face, at his mistress, and sighed softly. Then he came to a short distance from his mistress and stood there. The young woman whispered as if to herself.

"It's been over a month"

Khun Moi did not answer at all. He did not show any movement on his face. He understood what the lady meant. He knew that there was nothing to answer. He had feelings in his heart. But he was not one to show feelings, nor was he one to show them. So he stood still with a face that was completely motionless.

There was only a single hand-held kerosene lamp inside the hut, so it wasn't very bright, but the moonlight outside made it not too dark.

While Khun Moi was silent, the woman turned to Khun Moi and asked. "It's been over a month, Khun Moi, haven't you heard anything?"

Khun Moi's lips moved imperceptibly, but no words came out. His body and face remained as still as a stone.

The young woman sighed and smiled faintly, approaching Khun Mai.

"You have something to say, Khun Moi. No matter how much you keep your mouth shut, my lord knows what's inside you."

Khun Moi had not moved yet, the young woman looked at Khun Moi intently and then clapped her hands three times. Before long, a young Shan woman, about 20 years old, came in from the kitchen, looking dazed.

The woman continued.

"Even though you didn't tell me, Nanthi has ears and eyes by the fireplace, Khun Moi, do you know? Now, Nanthi."

Look at the Shan girl named Nanthita, who is a woman of middle age. Please explain the meaning.

Having said that, Nanthida glanced at the queen and then raised her eyes to look at Khun Moi again.

At this moment, Khun Moi began to move. His expression showed that he was not satisfied with Nanthida. He began to speak with a determined expression, "No more."

"I have some things to say, but I am a young servant who is afraid of displeasing my master."

"Do you need anything more unpleasant than this, Khun Moi?" Khun Moi didn't answer. "Now... try it."

"There was a battle in Sinni Ahol more than two weeks ago. The king's cavalry came to help, and the queen had to retreat, but..." Khun Moi's words were cut off.

“But what happened, Khun Thoi?”

“But the Queen’s troops were defeated by the hand of the king, and Thakin Saw Mon Fa fell.”

The young woman who couldn't finish speaking in Khun Mai...

"Oh...Mat Daw Maung has fallen," he shouted, his hands covering his ears as if he couldn't hear the words.