दत्तमासनमालभ्य भोजनेन निमन्त्रितः। मातरं राघवः किंचित् प्रसार्याञ्जलिमब्रवीत्
Having accepted the seat offered and being invited to dine, Rāghava, with hands joined, spoke a little to his mother.
स स्वभावविनीतश्च गौरवाच्च तथानतः। प्रस्थितो दण्डकारण्यमाप्रष्टुमुपचक्रमे
He, naturally humble and bowed with respect, then began to take leave, preparing to depart for the Daṇḍaka forest.
देवि नूनं न जानीषे महद् भयमुपस्थितम्। इदं तव च दुःखाय वैदेह्या लक्ष्मणस्य च
O Queen, surely you do not know the great danger that has come; this is for your sorrow, and for that of Vaidehī and Lakṣmaṇa as well.
गमिष्ये दण्डकारण्यं किमनेनासनेन मे। विष्टरासनयोग्यो हि कालोऽयं मामुपस्थितः
I will go to the Daṇḍaka forest—what use have I for this seat? The time suited for the seat of the forest has now come upon me.
चतुर्दश हि वर्षाणि वत्स्याम विजने वने। कन्दमूलफलैर्जीवन् हित्वा मुनिवदामिषम्
For fourteen years I shall dwell in the lonely forest, living on roots, fruits, and bulbs, giving up meat like a sage.
भरताय महाराजो यौवराज्यं प्रयच्छति। मां पुनर्दण्डकारण्यं विवासयति तापसम्
The great king grants the heirship to Bharata, but sends me, like an ascetic, into exile in the Daṇḍaka forest.
स षट् चाष्टौ च वर्षाणि वत्स्यामि विजने वने। आसेवमानो वन्यानि फलमूलैश्च वर्तयन्
For six and eight years I shall dwell in the lonely forest, sustaining myself on wild fruits and roots.
सा निकृत्तेव सालस्य यष्टिः परशुना वने। पपात सहसा देवी देवतेव दिवश्च्युता
She, like a branch of a felled śāla tree cut by an axe in the forest, suddenly collapsed, like a goddess fallen from heaven.
तामदुःखोचितां दृष्ट्वा पतितां कदलीमिव। रामस्तूत्थापयामास मातरं गतचेतसम्
Seeing his mother, unaccustomed to sorrow, fallen like a plantain stalk, Rāma began to raise her up, her senses gone.
उपावृत्योत्थितां दीनां वडवामिव वाहिताम्। पांसुगुण्ठितसर्वाङ्गीं विममर्श च पाणिना
He touched with his hand her whole body, covered in dust, as she, miserable and faint, rose up like a mare swept away by the current.
सा राघवमुपासीनमसुखार्ता सुखोचिता। उवाच पुरुषव्याघ्रमुपशृण्वति लक्ष्मणे
She, accustomed to happiness but now afflicted by grief, spoke to Rāghava, the tiger among men, as he sat nearby, with Lakṣmaṇa listening.
यदि पुत्र न जायेथा मम शोकाय राघव। न स्म दुःखमतो भूयः पश्येयमहमप्रजाः
If you had not been born to me, O Rāghava, for my sorrow, I, being childless, would not have seen such greater misery.
एक एव हि वन्ध्यायाः शोको भवति मानसः। अप्रजास्मीति संतापो न ह्यन्यः पुत्र विद्यते
For a barren woman, there is only one mental grief—the pain of being childless; there is no other, O son.
न दृष्टपूर्वं कल्याणं सुखं वा पतिपौरुषे। अपि पुत्रे विपश्येयमिति रामास्थितं मया
I have never before seen any happiness or good fortune from my husband's prowess; I had hoped to see it in my son, O Rāma.
सा बहून्यमनोज्ञानि वाक्यानि हृदयच्छिदाम्। अहं श्रोष्ये सपत्नीनामवराणां परा सती
I, though superior, will have to hear many unpleasant, heart-piercing words from my co-wives, who are inferior.
अतो दुःखतरं किं नु प्रमदानां भविष्यति। मम शोको विलापश्च यादृशोऽयमनन्तकः
What could be more painful for women than this endless grief and lamentation that has come upon me?
त्वयि संनिहितेऽप्येवमहमासं निराकृता। किं पुनः प्रोषिते तात ध्रुवं मरणमेव हि
Even when you were present, I was disregarded in this way; what then, dear one, when you are gone? Surely, death alone is certain for me.
अत्यन्तं निगृहीतास्मि भर्तुर्नित्यमसम्मता। परिवारेण कैकेय्याः समा वाप्यथवावरा
I have always been deeply restrained, ever disfavored by my husband, and among Kaikeyi’s household, I am at best equal, or perhaps even inferior.
यो हि मां सेवते कश्चिदपि वाप्यनुवर्तते। कैकेय्याः पुत्रमन्वीक्ष्य स जनो नाभिभाषते
For anyone who serves me or follows me, upon seeing Kaikeyi’s son, that person does not even speak to me.
नित्यक्रोधतया तस्याः कथं नु खरवादि तत्। कैकेय्या वदनं द्रष्टुं पुत्र शक्ष्यामि दुर्गता
Because of her constant anger, how could I, so unfortunate, endure to see Kaikeyi’s harsh-speaking face, my son?
दश सप्त च वर्षाणि जातस्य तव राघव। अतीतानि प्रकांक्षन्त्या मया दुःखपरिक्षयम्
Seventeen years have passed since you were born, Rāghava, as I have longed for the end of my suffering.
तदक्षयं महद्दुःखं नोत्सहे सहितुं चिरात्। विप्रकारं सपत्नीनामेवं जीर्णापि राघव
I can no longer bear this great and unending sorrow, the mistreatment from my co-wives, even though I have grown old, Rāghava.
अपश्यन्ती तव मुखं परिपूर्णशशिप्रभम्। कृपणा वर्तयिष्यामि कथं कृपणजीविका
How will I, wretched and pitiable, live on, deprived of seeing your face, radiant as the full moon?
उपवासैश्च योगैश्च बहुभिश्च परिश्रमैः। दुःखसंवर्धितो मोघं त्वं हि दुर्गतया मया
Through fasts, disciplines, and many hardships, I raised you in sorrow, yet all my efforts have been in vain, for I am now destitute.
स्थिरं नु हृदयं मन्ये ममेदं यन्न दीर्यते। प्रावृषीव महानद्याः स्पृष्टं कूलं नवाम्भसा
Surely my heart is steadfast, for it does not break or shatter on earth, just as a great river’s bank withstands the fresh flood of rain.
ममैव नूनं मरणं न विद्यते न चावकाशोऽस्ति यमक्षये मम। यदन्तकोऽद्यैव न मां जिहीर्षति प्रसह्य सिंहो रुदतीं मृगीमिव
Surely, death does not exist for me, nor is there any place for me in Yama’s realm, since Death does not seize me today by force, as a lion seizes a weeping doe.
स्थिरं हि नूनं हृदयं ममायसं न भिद्यते यद् भुवि नो विदीर्यते। अनेन दुःखेन च देहमर्पितं ध्रुवं ह्यकाले मरणं न विद्यते
Truly, my heart must be made of iron, for it does not break or shatter on earth, though it is given over to such sorrow; surely, untimely death does not exist.
इदं तु दुःखं यदनर्थकानि मे व्रतानि दानानि च संयमाश्च हि। तपश्च तप्तं यदपत्यकाम्यया सुनिष्फलं बीजमिवोप्तमूषरे
But this is my sorrow: that my vows, gifts, self-restraint, and the austerities I performed for the sake of a child, have all become fruitless, like seed sown on barren ground.
यदि ह्यकाले मरणं यदृच्छया लभेत कश्चिद् गुरुदुःखकर्शितः। गताहमद्यैव परेतसंसदं विना त्वया धेनुरिवात्मजेन वै
If, by chance, one tormented by great sorrow could obtain death before its time, I would go today to the assembly of the departed, without you, like a cow bereft of her calf.
अथापि किं जीवितमद्य मे वृथा त्वया विना चन्द्रनिभाननप्रभ। अनुव्रजिष्यामि वनं त्वयैव गौः सुदुर्बला वत्समिवाभिकांक्षया
But what is the use of my life now, in vain, without you, whose face shines like the moon? I will follow you to the forest, weak as I am, longing for my calf, like a cow.