As Rama journeyed through the vast forest, its depths echoed with the cries of koyashtika, arjunaka, shatapatra, kiraka, and many other birds. His heart, burning with longing, took in the sight of diverse trees and shimmering lakes as he made his way toward the great pool. From afar, he finally reached the water-laden lake known as Matanga’s pool and entered it, accompanied by Lakshmana. The two sons of Raghu, composed and undisturbed outwardly, walked together, but Rama, son of Dasharatha, was inwardly overcome by grief. He stepped into the lovely lotus-pond, its surface crowded with blooming lotuses and bordered by tilaka, ashoka, punnaga, bakula, and udalaka trees. The pond was dense with beautiful groves, its crystal-clear waters spread over smooth sand, offering delight to the senses. Fish and turtles swam in its depths, and the banks were adorned with trees entwined by creepers, as though surrounded by companions. This enchanting pond was frequented by Kinnaras, serpents, Gandharvas, Yakshas, and Rakshasas, and covered with a profusion of trees and vines. Its cool water was a reservoir of beauty, red with lotuses and fragrant water-lilies, white with clusters of kumuda flowers, and blue with blooming lilies, creating a tapestry of colors. Lotuses and blue water-lilies filled the waters, their fragrance wafting through the air, while blossoming mango groves lined the banks and peacocks called out in joy. Upon seeing the sacred Pampa, Rama, along with Saumitri, the radiant son of Dasaratha, lamented. The banks were adorned with tilaka, bījapūra, banyan, and white trees, blooming oleanders, and fully flowered punnaga trees. Jasmine, kundas, clumps of bandīra, and niculas grew alongside ashoka, saptaparna, kataka, and atimukta trees, along with countless other diverse trees, making the landscape as beautiful as a beloved woman. On the bank stood the mountain previously mentioned, adorned with minerals and known as Rishyamuka, its trees blooming in many colors. There resided the son of the great soul Riksharaja, the mighty Sugriva, renowned by name. Rama was urged to approach Sugriva, king of the monkeys, for help. Yet, Rama, tormented by love and his mind fixed only on Sita, spoke again to Lakshmana: “How can I live, Lakshmana, without Sita?” Overcome by sorrow, he entered the delightful lotus-filled Pampa with Lakshmana, uttering his supreme grief. As they proceeded, Rama observed the forest, seeing how Pampa’s groves were beautiful, teeming with many kinds of birds. He entered it with Lakshmana, and his senses trembled with joy upon seeing her beauty. Overcome by desire, he spoke to Saumitri: “Behold, Saumitri, Pampa with waters clear as beryl, adorned with blooming lotuses and blue water-lilies, beautified by many trees. Look at the forest of Pampa, delightful to see, where mountains shine and trees stand tall like peaks.” Yet grief still oppressed Rama, tormented by sorrow for Bharata and the abduction of Vaidehī. Even so, Pampa, adorned with the Citrakuta forest, shone beautifully—scattered with many kinds of flowers, cool-watered, and auspicious. Covered with lotuses and exceedingly pleasing, it was frequented by serpents and wild beasts, filled with deer and birds. The blue and yellow grasslands appeared radiant, as if adorned with clusters of flowers from the trees. Mountain peaks, abundant with blossoms, were embraced everywhere by creepers with flowering tips. Rama pointed out to Saumitri: “This gentle breeze is delightful; the season is filled with passion, fragrant and sweet, as trees bear fresh flowers and fruit. See the forms of these flower-laden forests, as they pour down showers of blossoms like clouds releasing rain. On these lovely plateaus, the forest trees, stirred by the wind, scatter their flowers upon the earth. See how the wind plays with flowers that have fallen, are falling, or remain on the trees.” The wind shook the blossoming branches, accompanied by bees humming among the swaying flowers. With the calls of intoxicated cuckoos, the wind seemed to make the trees dance, emerging from the mountain caves as if singing. Shaken intensely, the trees’ branch-tips entwined, appearing woven together. This same wind, cool as sandalwood and pleasant to the touch, carried a sacred fragrance and relieved fatigue. The trees, shaken by the wind, seemed to cry out as bees hummed in harmony within the honey-scented forests. On the beautiful mountain slopes, adorned with delightful blossoms, the peaks entwined with great trees stood out splendidly. The trees, their crowns covered with flowers and swaying in the wind, adorned with bees as ornaments, seemed to be sung about. Rama pointed out the fully blossomed karṇikāra trees everywhere, shining like men clad in yellow garments, covered with gold. Thus, amid the beauty and splendor of Pampa’s forests and mountains, Rama wandered, his heart torn by longing for Sita, yet surrounded by nature’s bounty, and his faithful brother Lakshmana by his side.