As the season shifted, the clouds—dark as blue lotus petals—spread duskiness across all ten directions, their force spent like elephants freed from rut. The rainstorms, once swift and fragrant with the scent of kutaja and arjuna blossoms, had now passed, leaving the air gentle and calm. Lakshmana, all around, the thunder of clouds, the trumpeting of elephants, the cries of peacocks, and the roar of waterfalls had suddenly fallen silent. The mountains, their slopes washed clean by the heavy rains, now gleamed as if freshly anointed, shining in the gentle rays of the moon. Autumn had arrived, distributing its beauty among the branches of saptacchada trees, the radiant light of stars, sun, and moon, and the playful movements of noble elephants. Fortune herself, adorned with the many qualities of autumn, shone forth in wondrous variety—her splendor especially radiant in lotus ponds awakened by the sun’s touch. On the sandbanks of the great rivers, swans with lovely, broad wings—dear to the god of love and dusted with lotus pollen—played together with chakravāka birds. Splendor appeared in many forms: in elephants emboldened by rut, in herds of proud cattle, and in the clear waters of flowing rivers. The sky, now free from clouds, stretched above forests where peacocks had shed their jeweled feathers; peahens, their voices stilled and their former beauty faded, sat in quiet meditation, having abandoned their festivities. The forest groves glowed with golden-yellow trees, their branches bowed under the weight of abundant blossoms, exuding charming and gentle fragrances. The finest elephants, surrounded by their beloved mates and fond of lotus ponds, moved slowly through the forest, their bodies fragrant with flowers, intoxicated and eager for pleasure. The sky was brilliantly clear, its color washed clean as if by weapons; the rivers, now shallow, flowed with scant water; cool breezes, fragrant with blue lotuses, drifted through luminous directions freed from darkness. The earth, its mud dried by the sun and its thick dust settled, was now ready for the endeavors of rival kings—this was the time for their activity. Bulls, emboldened by autumn, delighted and covered in dust, stood among the cows, intoxicated and eager for battle, their bellows echoing through the air. A female elephant, filled with longing and deep affection, moved slowly with her companions, surrounding her intoxicated mate as he wandered through the forest. The peacocks, having left behind their splendid, self-adorned feathers, moved sadly along the riverbanks, as if scolded by flocks of cranes. Lordly elephants, their tusks broken and voices mighty, frightened the ducks and chakravāka birds, disturbing the waters of lotus-adorned lakes again and again as they drank deeply. The rivers, now free from mud, sandy and clear, filled with herds of cattle and resounding with the cries of cranes and waterfowl, became a joyful descent for swans. Now, the sounds of rivers, waterfalls, wind, peacocks, and monkeys—whose festivities had ended—were stilled. Many-colored snakes, their bodies emaciated and long hidden in their holes, emerged hungry and filled with dreadful venom, for the new clouds had disappeared. Evening, adorned with the trembling touch of moonbeams and the delighted opening of stars, slipped away from the sky like a beloved woman. Night revealed her gentle face by the rising moon, her lovely eyes opened by the host of stars, and shone, draped in a garment of moonlight, like a woman clothed in white. Having eaten the ripened grains of rice, the delighted line of cranes swiftly ascended into the sky, tossed by the wind like a garland strung together. The water in the great lake, adorned with lotuses and a single sleeping swan, shone like the night sky filled with stars, with the full moon unobscured by clouds. The splendid ponds, encircled by banks crowded with swans and garlanded with blooming lotuses and water-lilies, appeared as if richly adorned, like noble women decked in ornaments. At dawn, as the wind stirred, the mingled sounds of flutes and other instruments, joined by the lowing of bulls and the bellowing of oxen, filled the air with resonant music. The riverbanks, bright with new white kāśa grass shining like freshly washed linen, were beautified by the gentle breeze scattering the blossoming flowers of the rivers. In the forests, bees intoxicated with honey, accompanied by their mates, joyfully wandered, their bodies dusted with pollen from lotus seats, following the wind in delight. The clear water, blooming with flowers, the cries of cranes, the ripened rice fields, the gentle breeze, and the pure moon—all proclaimed that the season of rains had passed. Now, the movements of the river maidens, their banks revealed by the gathering of fish, were slow, like those of women in the morning after a night spent with their beloved. The mouths of the rivers, covered with kāśa grass like fine garments, filled with chakravāka birds and sheathed in water plants, resembled the faces of brides adorned with lines of leaves. In the forests, where blossoming arrow-wood trees were painted with flowers and the bees joyfully hummed, the powerful god of love now wielded his mighty bow, having seized it and drawn his fierce staff. Having satisfied the world with abundant rain, filled the rivers and lakes, and made the earth yield its crops, the clouds had now departed, leaving the sky clear of water-bearers. The autumn rivers slowly revealed their sandbanks, like bashful women showing their hips after a new union. The waters, clear and resonant with the calls of curlews, crowded with flocks of chakravāka birds, shone beautifully as they rested in the lakes. O gentle one, the time for preparation had come for the kings, rivals eager for victory over one another. O prince, this is the first campaign of the kings, yet I do not see Sugrīva making such preparations. The seven-leaved asana trees, blooming kovidāra trees, bandhujīva flowers, and dark-hued śyāmā plants were seen on the mountain slopes. Look, Lakṣmaṇa, the riverbanks are scattered everywhere with swans, cranes, chakravāka birds, and curlews. Four months of the rainy season, which seemed like a hundred years, have passed for me, tormented by grief and deprived of seeing Sītā.